The Players

by The_Players

Summary:

In one of Diavolo's many deaths, a parallel timeline emerges with new heroes, new enemies, new origins, and faces you know and love. Follow along through multiple first-person perspectives of original characters! Welcome to The Players...

Chapter 1: Prologue: Sleeping Slaves

 

[Redacted]'s perspective

Diary entry: 18, February, 2002

 

Fate is a funny thing... We like to pretend we know a single thing about it. We write stories, we worship around it, and we lie in bed at night fantasizing that we have some semblance of control over it. But we don't. We definitely don't...

If I've learned anything recently, it's that I had no idea just how vast this existence is. How truly complicated even the mundane is. How much we take for granted... Despite this, I've consoled myself through this thought process: just because I have no real control over my fate does not mean that every effort is futile. As long as I'm sentient, as long as I breathe and feel and smile and suffer, I still owe it to myself to live my life just as I had before.

Although sometimes I don't feel real...

I question a lot– my sanity included. Mostly my father's, though... I wonder how he has even coped with any of this at all. And I think about my mother a lot too. Would she be proud of me? Would she approve of the young woman I've become? Would my father be better off if she was still around? I'm not sure of any of it... I read her old diary entries a lot. I taught myself braille at a young age so that I could connect with her in any way I could.

Anyway, I've already written that down before. Excuse my tangent...

I guess I have a lot to think about, probably for the next few years. I've been second guessing everything, every move I make, every breath I draw. Am I consciously doing that by choice or is an invisible force driving me on and toying with me like a puppet? I wish I could have avoided being so existential. It's hard to think about. It makes my head hurt.

I suppose that's all for now. That crisp, zingy Italian spring breeze is calling my name right about now, and V will be showing up to my door soon.

I know I'll have to tell her eventually but I'm afraid her poor head can't handle something like that. She already loses grip with reality as is. I don't want to make it worse for my best friend. Or maybe I should just let her be oblivious like most people are... She's the only thing that feels recognizable to me right now.

I'll write some more later.

 

-- End Chapter --

 

 

Notes:

Whoever this is will be revealed in time...

Chapter 2: Chance Meeting

Summary:

We meet two curious cases- one a sad song, and the other has familiar eyes...

 

Stella's perspective

Milano, Italia- 2001

 

The only sounds that filled the alleyway were the airy rushing of nearby cars and the clicking of my own boots reverberating off the pavement and surrounding brick walls. It's not too warm today, but even if it was, it's not like I couldn't handle it. I've spent all my summers without air conditioning for the past seventeen years.

If I were smarter, I would have packed more clothing when I was forced out of Grandma's house, but I was so shaken up and confused that I just threw whatever was closest into my old school backpack and rushed out in tears. I'd do anything for a warm meal, a steamy shower, and a fresh change of clothes.

There's a lot about homelessness that the movies get wrong. I'd know now.

I also can't stop thinking about getting a nice, long sip of water. The kind that a fit actress with flawless skin would take in a commercial for mineral water.

I took a heavy, deep, self-pitying sigh and leaned against the closest brick wall. The bricks felt cool through the fabric of my outdated, champagne-colored dress. It was a bit of a relief, but my stomach still devoured at itself, and my feet still ached. I stood there for a long moment with the back of my head pressed against the wall behind me, closing my tired eyes and feeling my frizzy, dirty, dark curly hair catching on the rough texture. How the hell am I supposed to get out of this mess?

The wafting smell of fresh cooking broke me out of my spiraling thoughts, and I opened my eyes, sniffing the air. It smelled so good– no –amazing... Like heaven. What I'd do for just a bite... It's not like I'd ever been able to afford any of the restaurants in Milano anyway... Still, though, I think my weary body acted on instinct and my sore feet carried me towards the source of the smell. I sauntered my way around a corner until I saw the back door of what must have been a restaurant. If I had any luck on my side, maybe there'd be some relatively fresh food in the trash... I really hate that I have to do this but when you're hungry enough, anything feels better than your stomach gnawing at itself.

I approached the dumpster and began to muster up the courage to open the lid, glancing around for any possible witnesses. If someone I used to know from school showed up and saw me doing this, I don't think I'd be able to show my face ever again. I bit at the inside of my lip before reaching my hand towards the heavy lid and attempting to push upward, but the sound of sudden heeled footsteps approaching caught me by surprised and I dropped the lid with a loud thud.

"You don't have to be scared, carusa. I don't mind that you're looking through the garbage."

I looked up to see a tall woman with dark, piercing eyes staring down at me. She had short, white eyebrows that were held at a relaxed height and her strong features showed no sign of disdain or disgust. No, instead she seemed to even be smiling a bit, studying me with those pink eyes of hers... Pink eyes with black sclerae. How strange.

"You... You don't work for the ristorante, right?" I asked in a small, guilty voice.

"Hm, no. I definitely don't," she replied. "I'm not dressed like a capocuoca or cameriera, am I?"

She wasn't. This woman was wearing a baby blue leotard with an extremely deep V-neck and wide collar, sort of puffy but tapering sleeves, white, silky ruffled shorts and knee-high pink and blue striped socks as well as baby blue loafers.

"No, Signora..." I shook my head.

She turned her head curiously at me, the silver bells on her blue cap of bells jingling faintly. She had white strands of hair framing both side of her face that stuck out from that strange hat.

"How long have you been out here?" she asked in a distinct Sicilian accent.

I didn't want to answer this stranger, but I felt compelled to. "... Three weeks."

"You look it. Not to be rude, of course."

"I don't need reminding."

"My apologies. It's just a pitiful sight... Do you have anyone waiting up on you, or are you all alone?"

Normally I'd hesitate to answer such an invasive question, but the calm, soothing melody of this woman's voice and her charming face invited my trust.

"I'm alone... My grandmother just died, and my older brother disappeared two years ago."

Her face suddenly changed. It was subtle but that relaxed demeanor morphed into something that seemed almost shocked and hurt.

"That's... a terrible situation."

I nodded and looked down at my worn boots.

A silence fell between us before she let out a deep, loaded sigh and spoke hesitantly.

"I could offer you some refuge at my home. Though, I should warn you that I live with four other people and not all of them are welcoming to strangers."

My gray eyes widened, and my head shot up to look at her. I could hardly find my words for a moment. They got stuck in my throat. Should I really follow a complete stranger home?

Do I really even have much of a choice?

"What's your name?" I managed to say.

The woman took a step closer and nodded, offering her hand to me. "My name is Chiara Sambuco. You can simply call me Chiara."

I wiped my dirty hand on my dress before firmly shaking hers. I expected her to recoil revulsion, but she didn't. She simply returned to smiling.

"And yours, carusa? What is your name?" she asked me.

"Oh, uh... Stella. Stella Accardi."

"Well, Ms. Stella, my offer still stands. If you're comfortable with it, that is... And I'll understand if you aren't." She looked into the distance for a moment. "I was once a wayward youth like you. I offer this out of respect, not pity."

Though her gaze wasn't on me, the glint of reverence and honesty in them affected me just the same. I don't know why but I felt drawn to her. She oozed comfort.

"I accept," I finally said.

Her piercing eyes snapped back onto me, and she grinned a little. "Maravigghiusu! My home isn't that far from here."

"I apologize for being so dirty... Really, it's shameful."

"Hm-hm... Don't apologize, Carusa. It's no fault of your own."

We began to walk side by side, back towards the entrance of the alleyway. Once we were a few steps away, she halted, and her demeanor became much more serious all of the sudden.

She slowly turned to face me before speaking a warning. "Before we go, I should be explicitly clear about something: I am a mafiosa. But just because you stay at my house does not involve you in our syndicate, nor does it put you in explicit danger. You're simply a guest, and I promise you that you're under no obligation to perform anything illegal."

I felt my body freeze for a moment as I looked Chiara up and down. Was she serious? She must have been. Had I heard her correctly? A mafiosa was aiding me out of the kindness of her heart? I didn't understand it at all. The only thing I understood was that I was offered a chance for salvation, and I'd be a damn fool to pass it up.

I swallowed thickly before nodding and connecting to her gaze again.

"I understand... I'm not scared."

"Bonu. Then we'll be off."

She began walking ahead of me with a confident, springy gait. I think my mind left me because I didn't move. I just stayed in place. However, Chiara quickly stopped and looked behind her before gesturing for me to follow.

"Amunìnni!"

I came back to reality but cocked my brow in confusion. She sighed before repeating herself.

"Let's go."

I nodded and caught up with her. Her long legs carried her a lot faster than my short ones carried me.

I couldn't wait to get out of these boots.

 

-- Chapter End --

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Notes:

I promise canon characters are coming soon lol. I'm uploading all of these from Tumblr so bear with me. The chapters will get longer past chapter 20!

Chapter 3: Sambuco Mob Part 1

Summary:

Chiara brings Stella to her base of operations and two new players emerge.

 

Stella's perspective

Milano, Italia- 2001

 

I stood at the doorstep of a large, rustic-looking family-size villa that was erect on a dead-end cobblestone street. It seemed that all the other houses hugging it hadn't been lived in for years. It was an odd location for a villa. I've seen many sides of Milano, due to my always taking long trips on the Metropolitana. I wasn't extremely familiar with this side of town, though...

Chiara glanced down at me, as if she could tell that I was deep in thought, and she spoke to me in that assured voice of hers.

"I can tell what you're probably thinking: why are the other houses on this street so empty? Is it because Chiara is in the mafia?"

When I was brought out of those exact thoughts by shock and looked up at her with questions in my eyes, she flashed me a bit of a sly smile.

"Seems I was right... To answer your question: no, it's not. They're empty for a variety of natural reasons, like the owner's deaths or being unable to afford them. I had no hand in that."

"Right..." I muttered. I couldn't believe she could read me so easily.

"Now, before we enter, I should warn you that my housemates, or rather, team, is a bit of a quirky bunch... Some come off as cold or mean, but they mean well. However, I think you'll easily find a friend among them. Just don't be discouraged if you're not accepted. After all, you aren't part of the famiglia."

I nodded, listening carefully. Usually, I'm quite wary of new situations and new people. I'd be lying if I said I was at ease, but this woman... She talked with a sage quality that made her seem wiser beyond her years... She sounded almost like a mother, or a nurturing older sister. She definitely didn't come off like a criminal.

I watched her turn her key in the lock and push open the aged wooden door. I could hear some kind of rumbling in the floor above my head, and the wood below my boots creaked with each step I took inside. It was a modestly decorated home... Nothing flashy stood out, and it seemed quite cozy, overall. Like a grandmother lived here...

It reminded me a bit of home.

Chiara raised a brow and looked above her, reacting to the stomping upstairs, and I saw her mutter under her breath, saying, "What the hell...?"

Almost as if this were a corny sitcom, two people rushed down the narrow stairs, and the sparse ceramic decorations in the room shuddered, as well as the pictures on the walls. I took a cautious step back, but Chiara stood firmly still, her hands on her hips.

A tall man with tanned skin, and short, curly, dark green hair stumbled into the front room we were in. His thick brows were furrowed in frustration as a fair-skinned, strawberry blonde wearing dark sunglasses jumped onto his back. He tried to shake her off, baring his teeth, his dark painted lips pulled back in a grimace, but she only continued to laugh and hold on tight.

"Get off of me! You're a grown woman so act like it!" the man shouted with a strained voice.

"Make me!" the woman teased. She had a playful voice with a raspy quality to it.

Chiara cleared her throat loud enough for the two to hear, and they promptly stopped in their tracks and looked in her direction. None of them said a word, but the woman did slip off of the man's back.

"Hah– Chiara!" the woman cheered in a bit of an awkward tone, adjusting the collar on her pink suit jacket.

The man wasted no time, though. He immediately zeroed in on me. His dark eyes, from beneath what seemed like a metal mask over brows, narrowed. He pointed at me and didn't hold back the disapproval in his tone.

"Who the hell is that?"

The woman elbowed him in the ribs and hissed, "Be nice!"

Chiara sighed and put her hand on my shoulder.

"This is Stella. She'll be staying with us until the unforeseeable future," she clarified.

"Stella, huh?" The man took a few heavy steps towards me. "What's your problem? Chiara obviously wanted to take you in for a reason, so what's your deal?"

Chiara spoke in a stern voice I hadn't heard yet from her. "Dante! Manners..."

Dante glanced at Chiara, locking eyes with her for a moment before he huffed and turned away, storming off.

With his absence, the woman who was standing beside him before came closer to me with a beaming grin on her pinkish lips. She was absolutely gorgeous. She smelled like fresh raspberries and had a small, black heart dotted on her left cheek, just below her eye. If I had seen her at school, I'd probably be jealous of her looks or popularity.

"Ciao! My name is Elektra! It's nice to meet you..." She paused for a moment, in thought, before tittering nervously and shrugging. "Heh, I'm bad with names. What was yours again?"

"Stella."

"Right, right, Stella... Hm..." She tapped her chin for a moment before snapping. "'Stellar Stella'. How about it? When I'm remembering new names, I have to relate it to a word, y'know?"

Despite myself, I almost grinned. What a silly woman. "Yeah, sounds good..."

"So, Stellar Stella... Seems like you're stuck with us for the next little while, huh?"

I looked over to Chiara and she nodded. I then replied to her, "Seems like it."

"Elektra, could you show Stella where the shower is? And perhaps provide her a change of clothes as well..." Chiara said.

"'Course! Sure thing, Chia. Let's get going, Stellar Stella."

Chiara nodded and smiled before waving us off. "I'll get started on a fresh meal for you, Carusa. Elektra will take care of you otherwise."

I nodded, about to speak up, but before I could, Elektra took my hand and led me towards the stairs. I followed behind her as fast as I could. This woman was extremely friendly... She also wasn't put off by my status as a stranger or my disheveled appearance. Before I knew it, the pink-clad woman had brought me to an even more pink room. It was a bit small and cluttered with gaudy decorations, but it seemed just right for her.

Once we were in the room, she let go of my hand and began rummaging through some drawers full of clothing, eyeing me occasionally from behind those designer glasses... God, those things must have costed a fortune.

"So, you're another one of society's rejects, huh? Welcome to the club," Elektra began, chuckling to herself. "I've got a feeling I'm gonna be showin' you the ropes here soon."

I studied her for a moment before speaking carefully. "Showing me the ropes?"

"Yeah! Well, I mean... Chiara did tell you what we are, right?"

"Yes, but–"

"But you don't wanna be involved? Yeah, I said that too. Now lookit me."

"So, you're telling me it's like I don't have a choice?"

"What? No, no. Definitely not. But I am saying what tends to happen. You're obviously free to go whenever and do whatever you want, don't get it twisted."

I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to shut out the doubtful thoughts in my mind. I should have been more skeptical of this whole thing, really. But why pass up a perfectly good opportunity for free stuff?

Elektra smiled softly and approached me with a t-shirt in her hands, holding it up towards me.

"Yeah... I think this'll fit just fine on ya." She set it off to the side before opening a different drawer and pulling out a pair of fuzzy, pink lounge pants. "You and I seem about the same size. You're a little smaller than me, though."

She handed me the outfit, then gestured for me to follow her out into the hallway again. At the end of the hallway was a linen closet, and she retrieved a towel from one of the shelves within and passed it to me as well. There were four other doors in this hallway... Hm.

Elektra pushed one of them open, then flicked on a light switch on the wall. She then pointed inside.

"This is the restroom. You can use all the stuff that has my name on it– just don't use too much, alright?" she instructed.

"Right... Thank you." I stepped inside the small bathroom.

When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, though, I stopped in my tracks and absorbed the mess I had been reduced to. My dark hair was a rat's nest, there were mascara stains smudged across my cheeks, my dress was soiled with dirt and sweat, and my skin looked dull. I set the clothes down on the counter and brought my hand up to my cheek, preparing myself for the hot, stinging tears I felt forming on my waterline.

A hand on my shoulder startled me out of it. Elektra was standing beside me now and she lifted up my hair in order to unclasp my pearl necklace.

"How long have you been outside?" she asked in a gentle voice.

I lowered my gaze and began taking the star-shaped clips out of my hair. "Three weeks..."

"You didn't pack any extra clothes?"

"I did, but... Some guy stole my bag from me."

"Damn... What a jerk," she sighed. She then leaned against the counter and looked at my necklace. "That's really beautiful. Where'd you get it?"

"My grandmother gave it to me. It was hers."

"And she...?"

"Died. Yes."

"And that's why you were out there."

"And that's why I was out there."

There was a small, refreshing pause before the both of us sort of smiled. I didn't know much about this woman, but I knew she understood, and that's all that mattered to me.

"I'm going to head out to the store and get you some more clothes. What size are you?"

"Medium, usually."

She nodded before turning to leave, but I stopped her before she could.

"Elektra, you don't have to go out and do that for me."

She snorted a bit and shook her head. "Are you crazy? 'Course I do. Girls gotta stick together. Besides, I'd never really pass up an opportunity to go shopping."

"Are you su–"

"Hey, I said I'll do it, so I'll do it. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have offered, alright?"

I didn't know how to retort or properly thank her, so I just went quiet and nodded.

"Now, go take that shower. Relax and get comfortable. I'll be back soon."

She shut the door as she left, and for the first time in three weeks, I had some privacy... I didn't realize how precious it was until I didn't have it. I took a deep breath and sat down on the closed toilet lid, unzipping my dirty boots. It felt so nice to finally take them off, to feel like I didn't have to be on the run.

I knew the clean water would feel like a blessing.

 

*

 

As I stood in front of the mirror, now dressed and clean, I could hear a conversation happening downstairs. The house was sort of small and the walls seemed thin. There were two voices: Chiara's and Dante's. It didn't take a genius to hear the edge in Dante's voice. I guess I think kind of backwards or something, because when I hear people talking about me, even if it's not meant for me to hear, I always go to the source. If I did something wrong, I want to know. I always had... I don't want to be in trouble.

I snuck out of the bathroom and down the stairs, and the first thing that hit me was the smell of fresh food... It was divine. I could feel myself start to salivate just at the thought of eating it, and my stomach churned. But I was quickly distracted from that by the conversation going on in the kitchen.

"Bringing strangers into the house, especially civilians... What are you thinking, Chiara? We can't trust her. We don't know her. And she doesn't know us. She doesn't need to be involved. Sometimes your big heart trips you up," Dante chastised.

"I'm thinking that it's the right thing to do. I have the means to provide shelter and food for a homeless, orphaned child. I think if I ignored her, I'd earn myself a deeper place in Hell," Chiara replied.

"Yeah, like you're a woman of God."

"Watch it."

"Look, what I'm saying is: I think this is a bad decision. We don't need kids in our base and definitely not civilian ones."

"Would you give me the same advice in the scenario where I took you in as a child?"

There was a silence between the two of them, and the only sounds that could be heard were from something frying on the stove. After a long moment, Dante responded in a bit of a defeated tone.

"I guess not..."

"Then it's settled. You let me do my job and operate as I see fit, and you be nice to our guest."

"I don't want to 'be nice'. She's a stranger. And I don't want her getting too comfortable. We're criminals, Chiara."

"If you can't be nice then don't say anything at all."

"That's boring."

"Hush, Dante... You're a camurrìa."

"You should be used to it by now."

"I am. Now go back to what you were doing. I'm busy."

Heavy, booted footsteps started approaching from the kitchen and I felt frozen in place. I knew I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, and I definitely didn't want to talk to that Dante guy. My legs failed me, though, and I was eventually caught under scrutinizing eyes. I looked up at the man with a guilty expression, unable to say a word. It looked like he was about to open his mouth to speak, but he stopped and glanced back at the kitchen for a moment before turning back to me and speaking in a harsh mutter.

"You should learn to mind your own damn business, brat."

I couldn't offer him anything in response, but that didn't matter. He made his way up the stairs anyway, the tail of his long coat swaying behind him.

I could understand his reservations, but not his attitude. I don't know what I did to deserve his immediate anger, but it seemed that he was just the aggressive type.

There wasn't any time to think about that, though. The smell of food was calling my name, and I couldn't ignore it any longer.

 

-- Chapter End --

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Chapter 4: Sambuco Mob Part 2

Summary:

Stella meets the rest of the Sambuco mob and receives a very thoughtful surprise!

 

Stella's perspective

Milano, Italia- 2001

 

I sat myself down at the small dining table next to the kitchen as Chiara instructed me to, and she brought out a plate of fresh pan-seared chicken and roasted vegetables, setting it down in front of me. I was so excited and hungry that she could hardly let go of the ceramic plate before I pounced on the meal. Upon my impatience, she chuckled a bit, then sat down in a chair off to my left side with a faint smile on her face.

"I take it that you feel a little better after a shower?" she asked.

"Mhm!" I hummed with a mouth full of food, nodding.

"Bonu. I'm glad to hear that."

There was a brief silence between us that was only filled by the sound of my knife cutting the chicken.

Chiara cleared her throat before speaking again. "We'll have to figure out your sleeping arrangements... I'll talk to Abbiati."

"Who's 'Abbiati'?" I asked in a muffled voice.

"My right-hand. And she prefers to be called 'Ms. Abbiati' by most."

"Ms. Abbiati. Got it."

"You're quite the agreeable one, aren't you?"

I paused and raised a brow at her.

"I mean, you've hardly put up a fight with anything I've said. Why is that?"

"Why fight someone who's trying to help me?"

"A fair point."

"Should I have any reason to fight you?"

"I'd hope not."

"Then that's why."

She huffed in amusement before leaning back in her chair a bit. "You're a curious thing, Stella."

"Not 'curious'. Just sad..."

"I don't see what's so sad about resilience."

"You sound like you've had to talk yourself out of this same mindset before."

"Hah! You're a clever one. I think all of us here have..."

"For a mafiosa, you're pretty easy to talk to."

"Should I be harder to talk to?"

"Mm, I'm not sure. I guess I just expected mafiosi to be mean and cruel. Or they lack mercy."

"Don't worry, your assumption is right. Most are. I, however, value a little human decency."

"But you're still a criminal?"

"Sinners still go to church."

I thought over her retort for a moment before shrugging and relenting. "Touché."

"Besides, my criminal activities are none of your concern, Carusa. Unless you become a mafiosa yourself, I expect that you'll stay out of it."

I nodded, swallowing a bite of my food.

I didn't want to become a criminal. I had already dropped out of school two years ago, I'd been fired from the only two jobs I've had, I didn't get the socialization most teenagers get, I had no family... I already felt like the scum of the Earth. But these people, so far, aside from Dante, had been kind and helpful. They talked to each other like a family...

Even when my brother was here, he never treated me that way. Like a sister.

When I saw the front door open, I set my fork down. Chiara turned her head away from me and looked in that direction as well. A tall, glasses-clad, dark-haired woman in a strange looking suit with thigh-high boots walked in with a bag in each hand. A shorter woman wearing a collared, white crop top and tight dress pants followed closely behind her. This other shorter woman had brownish-red hair done up in a high ponytail and wore a red mask over the lower half of her face.

"Ah, Abbiati, Gia, welcome back." Chiara stood up and greeted them.

Abbiati nodded to her, then handed the bags to Gia, who walked quickly into the kitchen, passing me. She hardly payed me any mind. Abbiati, however, glanced over at me from behind her glasses, then whispered to Chiara.

"Is that a new recruit?" she asked.

"No," Chiara muttered back, "just someone who will be staying here for a while."

"Right, well... I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

Chiara then turned to me and introduced the two of us. "Stella, this is Ms. Abbiati. Abbiati, this is Stella."

The serious, intimidating looking woman walked towards me, then offered her gloved hand. I hesitantly shook hers, nodding.

"Pleasure to meet you, Stella. I hope you'll find your stay here comfortable. If you need anything, please feel free to ask. You're Chiara's guest, after all," she said in a monotone, business-like voice.

"R–right, thank you."

It was hard to get a read on her. Though her words seemed pleasant, she had the kind of dark eyes that monitored and assessed everything, like a machine. I was afraid I would accidentally say or do the wrong thing. She is how I imagined a mafiosa would look and act. However, she was satisfied with my response, it seemed, because she turned away and left the room.

Gia came out of the kitchen now, looking over me with her red eyes. She was expressionless. Ms. Abbiati was hard to read, but Gia more so. This time, I decided to be the one to introduce myself.

"Ciao, I'm–"

"Stella. I heard," Gia interrupted with a deep, masculine voice.

My expression dropped and my eyes widened. "You're a–"

"Man. Yes," he confirmed.

My surprise must have been palpable because I watched Gia shake his head before reaching out to take my hand.

"Don't worry. You're not the first to think that and you won't be the last."

"Mi dispiace... It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

He headed towards the stairs and nodded to Chiara as he passed.

What a strange misunderstanding... He truly had the figure of a woman. I felt stupid...

As his footsteps retreated, Chiara finally excused herself.

"I have to go figure out your sleeping arrangements. When you're finished eating, just set your plate in the sink. I'll wash it."

I nodded and watched as she left for a moment before shaking my head. I was obviously going to wash my own dish. It's not that difficult. In fact, washing dishes was the least difficult thing I'd done consistently these past two years.

 

*

 

I had been sitting on the couch, getting accustomed to my new surroundings when Elektra burst in through the door, shopping bags in hand and an air of excitement about her. She immediately rushed to me before setting the bags down on the coffee table and placing her hands on her hips, a wide grin on her face.

"Go ahead, look inside the bags!" she encouraged.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to school my expression. I was excited, of course, but I suppose I had a habit of performing stoicism. I reached inside the bag closest to me and revealed a beautiful, designer dress that looked almost identical to the one I had been wearing before. Although it lacked the same amount of ribbons as my old one, and I could notice minor differences, it still felt very familiar. I looked up at the miracle worker that Elektra was with a sparkle of awe in my eyes.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Of course! I– How... How did you do this?" I stammered.

"Hm, well, I've been interested in fashion for a while, and I have a lot of magazines. When I saw your dress, I knew it looked familiar. Although it's not the same exact dress, that brand was doing 'retro reproductions' line, so I got there as fast as I could. I figured it could be a little slice of normalcy to this new life of yours."

"I can't believe you... This is probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Hah, I knew you'd like it! Maybe sometime soon we could add some ribbons to it."

"I know how to sew! We could do it."

"Perfect!" Elektra sat down next to me and shrugged a bit. "Rest of it is some shirts, pants, underwear, socks, y'know... The boring stuff."

I nodded and put the dress back in the bag. "Thank you, really... You have no idea how much this means to me."

"No worries, Stellar Stella. Did you eat already?"

"Mhm. Chiara made me some food."

"You feeling better after a meal and a shower?"

"Definitely."

"Che bello! You deserve it."

I don't know what I was expecting, but she patted my damp head, and I felt a sensation I hadn't felt in a long time... The only way I could describe it was contentment. Acceptance. I felt like I already had a place in her life... I think I clammed up or something because she laughed a bit at me, but it wasn't in a mean way.

After that point, I started to understand why Elektra said most people who walked into this place never really left... When you've been severely lonely all your life and finally meet someone who has open arms for you, it's a feeling that is hard to imagine turning away from. Connection, real human connection, and kinship... I had a feeling I was finally headed down that road in my life, despite my reservations.

A whole new mess was coming my way...

 

-- Chapter End --

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Notes:

The gang's all here lol

Chapter 5: La Squadra Esecuzioni's New Recruit

Summary:

It's always hard being the new kid, but even harder when everyone around you is as bizarre as they come...

Althaia's Perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

I looked down at the smudged address written on the slip of crumbled paper in my hand before looking back up at the inconspicuous building in front of me.

"Seems like the place..." I muttered to myself.

I had almost no idea what I was getting into, but I was hoping that I might finally have a place in the famiglia to stay. My higher-ups had no idea what to do with me, considering my Stand's less-than-deadly skill... I didn't even want to be here in the first place, and now they can't even find a good use for me. It was disheartening, to say the least...

I picked up my suitcase again and approached the door of the building. It lacked windows, so I couldn't see inside. Honestly, if I didn't know any better, I'd assume this was just one of those random, fancy private storage units.

I carefully knocked on the door and waited for someone to open it, trying my hardest to suppress all of my nerves. I didn't want to act scared or show any weakness. I've been put on the spot before, many times in my life. I'm used to having all eyes on me. But in the famiglia, it's different. Operating under the radar is best. Falling in line was the narrative.

'Should I seem tough-talking? Should I act stoic? Should I just be my usual self? How would they react? Would they like me? How do I play this right?' These thoughts were running through my mind at a mile a minute.

However, they were cut off when a short-haired, blond man wearing a dark suit opened the door and stared me down with his blue eyes. I must have looked like an idiot, standing frozen in place with an unsure expression, but his own face showed no emotion.

"Well, who is it?!" I heard a male voice from inside call out.

"Is it the new guy?" a different voice said.

"...Not quite," the blond man replied in a monotone manner.

"Ciao. This is the headquarters of La Squadra Esecuzioni... Correct?" I asked in an embarrassingly timid voice.

"Correct," he confirmed. He paused for a moment, as if contemplating, before opening the door wider. "Come in."

I nodded and stepped inside, bringing my luggage along with me. I'm not sure what I expected, but it definitely wasn't a room full of oddly dressed men. I felt completely out of place, and I knew I stuck out like a sore thumb. The wide-eyed expression on my face must have looked so laughable.

"The 'new guy' is a chick?!" one of the men exclaimed. He had a sort of buzz cut and was wearing a rust-colored jacket.

"Hah! This is who they send us? Must be one hell of a Stand user, then..." another man chimed in, this one with long, brown hair tied into several low ponytails.

There was a purple-haired man with an odd mask over his eyes that stared me down intently, and I almost immediately subconsciously bristled up and caught his eye. There was a strange energy coming from him that my instincts were telling me to be careful of. When he spoke, it only confirmed my suspicions.

"Bellissimo! Perfect! Tell me, what is your blood type? Type A, type B, ty–"

He was cut off when the blue-haired man sitting next to him elbowed him in the ribs.

"Shut it, Melone! Is that the first impression you want to make, idiota? Do you ever think about what comes out of your mouth?!" he reprimanded in a harsh voice.

The man named Melone huffed and turned his head away, his brows furrowing a bit.

There was an oddly shaped, green-haired man sitting on the couch across from the others who hadn't said a word yet. In fact, he looked just as nervous as I felt... It was almost relieving.

I cleared my throat and waved my gloved hand after setting one of my bags down, an awkward smile upon my tanned face.

"Buongiorno," I began, "my name is Althaia. I'm, uh... Looking forward to getting to know you all."

Ugh, I sound so stupid...

"You nervous, new girl?" the blond man asked, approaching one of the couches and sitting down next to the green-haired man.

"Hmph, I guess you could say that... Not really something that should come out of a mafiosa's mouth, right?" I replied with a bit of a titter.

"Correct."

I sighed at the answer and shook my head, trying to get my bearings. "Well, I suppose it'd ease my nerves if you all introduced yourselves..."

"Right, right. Makes sense," one of the men began before standing up and approaching me, hand outstretched. "The name's Formaggio. You ever need anything, you come to me, alright?"

I shook his hand and couldn't help but grin a bit. "Is that so?"

"Sure. I mean, we were all new once."

I nodded, feeling that tightness in my chest lessen a bit... This was going okay so far.

The brown-haired man nodded towards me before saying, "I'm Illuso." He then snickered a bit before adding, "You've got a lot to prove. Hope you're up to the task."

I could only muster a half-hearted, "I am." It wasn't convincing in the slightest.

Next, Melone attempted to stand up, most likely to shake my hand, but the blue-haired man sitting next to him yanked him back down, a bit of a grimace on his face.

"Introduce yourself from a distance," he commanded.

Melone began to plead his case. "But I wasn't going to–"

The entire group uttered a firm "no" in unison, effectively shutting the man down. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted a bit.

"My name is Melone," he finally muttered.

I raised a brow at the whole ordeal but ultimately nodded.

"And I'm Ghiaccio," the blue-haired man barked out.

"Ah, n–nice to meet you," I stuttered. Dammit.

The blond-haired man nudged the anxious-looking green-haired man next to him, then gestured to me. "Go on, Pesci. Introduce yourself. Speak with your chest."

"Huh? B–but you already said my name just now, Big Bro," he protested with a whine in his voice.

"That's not the point. Introducing yourself makes an impression, it asserts your confidence and identity. So, out with it already."

The man gulped and nodded before looking me in the eye and speaking in a bit of a rushed manner. "My name is Pesci, it's nice to meet you."

I could understand his unease. I, too, was also pretty on-edge with this whole thing. In lieu of that, I offered him a bit of a smile and waved to him, trying to convey that I was not a person to fear.

"Piacere," I chirped.

The blond man sighed, then stood up and approached me, offering me his hand, which I shook. "I'm Prosciutto," he said. "Now follow me."

"Oh, a–alright!" I picked up my luggage and followed behind him.

He led me down a short hallway that only had three doors in it. We stopped at the end of the hall, and he glanced at me, pointing in the direction of the two doors behind us.

"If you were wondering: restroom, linen closet," he said.

"Oh, huh..."

Prosciutto then knocked on the door we were standing in front of, waiting for a deep voice to say, "come in", before opening it.

"The new recruit is here," Prosciutto informed the mystery man.

"Fine. Let him in."

Prosciutto nodded, then stepped back and gestured for me to go ahead. I hesitantly walked into what looked like a dimly lit office, feeling my heart racing a bit in anticipation... This must be my new boss...

As the door shut, I looked to my right and saw a white-haired man wearing dark clothes and a bell-tipped hood silently studying me with piercing, unnatural eyes. Red irises with black sclerae... How strange. He was behind a large, wooden desk that was littered with papers, all in stacks. God, this poor man... Was that all paperwork? How exhausting.

"Sit down," he commanded in a disinterested, yet rich voice, pointing to the chair in front of his desk.

I nodded and dropped my luggage, sitting down without a second thought. I had to move the three long, green braids in my hair so that I didn't accidentally sit on them.

The man opened up an unmarked folder on his desk, skimming over it in silence before beginning. "Althaia Belladonna. Twnety-five years old, born in Greece, unlisted rank..." he muttered. He then lifted his eyes towards me and raised a brow. "And a Stand user?"

"Yes," I confirmed, nodding. "All of that is true."

He closed the folder before leaning back in his chair a bit. "What is your Stand's ability?"

I hesitated for a moment... This isn't information that one gives out lightly. But, if this man was to be my new leader, then...

"It can heal wounds, Sir. All kinds of wounds. And I can transfer my blood to another person during the event of major blood loss. And, for the record, my blood type is 'O-'."

"Wait, you're... You're not even an assassin?" he asked, his expression hardening.

"No, I'm not. I'm a medic."

He opened up the folder again and flipped through some pages clipped to it. "This has to be some sort of mistake."

"How so?"

He met my gaze for a long moment, halting all movement. It was eerie. It didn't even seem like he blinked.

"I run a team of hitman. Assassins. And if you don't possess the ability to kill, then you don't belong here. I have enough to keep track of as is. I don't need dead weight to drag along."

My brows furrowed a bit, and I felt a twinge of annoyance rise in my throat. "So, you're saying that there's never been a time where your team needed medical attention, or an extra hand?"

"No. Never. We're professionals. We don't put ourselves in harm's way. Only our targets."

I looked away for a moment and held my tongue, crossing my arms over my chest. "Well, the order for my transfer was already given."

"Then it was a mistake."

"You can't know that. Not yet."

"I think I'd know what my team does and doesn't need."

I sighed and looked at him again. "What's your name?"

He leaned forward a bit, his elbow resting on the desk. "That doesn't matter, because you're not going to be here much longer."

I scoffed a bit, rolling my eyes. "Come on. Really?"

He turned his head slightly. "I didn't take you for someone who had an attitude."

"Hard not to when you're treating me like I have nothing to offer. I can do something, alright? If you're a good team captain, you'll find a use for me."

He sat up straight, his brows raised slightly in surprise, though his face was mostly deadpan. I locked eyes with him, my own expression becoming more stern.

I've spent my whole life having to prove myself and surviving off of outward validation. I guess I had a tendency to become a bit sassy and tense when I knew I rightly deserved recognition for my skills or achievements, and someone still withheld it from me.

"Why do you want to be a part of this team so badly?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.

I sighed and glanced away for a moment. "Truth is... My superiors didn't know what to do with me either. I've been bouncing around from team to team, position to position... Nothing ever worked out. I'm sick and tired of it. If I'm stuck working for Passione, I might as well make something of it."

"'Stuck'?"

My eyes widened a bit... I can't believe I just let that slip out. I shook my head and huffed. "Never mind that. Forget I said anything."

"Let me get this straight... The famiglia can't find a use for you, so they drop you off at my doorstep and expect me to stop everything and not only provide for, but make use of the defective member they already know has no use? Is that right?"

I felt the skin on my shoulders wash over with a prickly sensation, a simmering anger I hadn't felt in a long time crawling its way up my back. "I'm not 'defective'! What would you know? You haven't even given me the chance! You're only assuming things."

"My assumptions are usually right."

"Well, you're stuck with me. It was an executive order. Guess you'll have to drag around my "dead weight" anyway..." I spat out with a bitterness in my tone.

The man sighed and rubbed his face. I didn't realize it before, but he really did look so tired. I wondered for how long he had been cooped up in this office for, doing whatever it is he's been doing... Filing, paperwork, budgeting, what have you... A shame. But... perhaps it could work in my favor.

I took a deep breath and relaxed my expression before speaking again. "You look tired... What's your name?"

He rubbed his eyes before finally relenting. "Risotto Nero."

"Well, Risotto..." I began, leaning forward. "Looks like there's a lot of paperwork on your desk... In fact, this whole office could be organized better. Not to mention, all of this needs filing..." I ran my finger against the closest stack of paper. "But you must be so busy, well, with all of your missions and such. And you're probably too tired afterwards to even think about organizing." I smirked a bit, speaking in a sly manner. "It's a shame you don't have someone sitting right in front of you, willing and able to sort this paperwork and organize your office..."

There was a long pause as Risotto glanced at all the stacks of paper and miscellaneous folders on his desk. I could see the cogs turning in his mind and I had to force myself not to smile. This was too easy...

"Camurrìa..." he muttered. "Why do I even bother?" He then huffed and tossed the folder in front of him on top of one of the paper stacks. "I'm listening... But don't push your limits."

I grinned a little before remembering a question I had earlier and tapping my chin a bit. "Well, I'm afraid I may have to. I have a question..."

He made a bit of a sour face before looking away. "Out with it."

"Do you all... live here? Or is this just a headquarters?"

"Some of us live here... Most of us do. Actually, everyone but Formaggio does. But even still, he has to spend quite a bit of time here. What you'll learn about this job is that it doesn't pay nearly as much as you'd expect..."

I paused for a moment, clasping my hands over my lap and wearing a bit of an awkward look. "Huh... I see... Well, I don't have any place else to stay, so..."

Risotto groaned quietly before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just great... I suppose we'll have to adjust the sleeping arrangements... And there's another mouth to feed."

I grimaced a bit. "Is it really that bad?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

I clicked my tongue a bit and shrugged. "Well... Seems like I have more use than you think..."

His eyes widened a bit, and I could hear the anticipation in his voice, even if it was subtle. "What do you mean?

"To be frank, I'm flush with cash. I have the money in accounts Passione has no clue about. And if it's money that you and your team need for living expenses, then I'm willing to share."

There was a long pause where he didn't make eye contact with me. He just sat there, thinking. There was a smug energy growing within me as I watched the man grapple with his earlier statements and swallow his ego. He then stood up and extended his hand toward me in order to shake mine.

"Welcome to the team," he said.

I laughed a bit and stood up as well, shaking his hand. "That's more like it."

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

Again, this is an AU so don't expect everyone to act the exact same as they do in canon!

Chapter 6: La Squadra Esecuzioni's New Recruit Part 2

Summary:

Althaia tries to settle into her new home and get accustomed to her teammates.

Althaia's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

After the new sleeping arrangements were settled and I got a small room to myself, I spent the rest of the day hiding in my room and putting my belongings away. I needed time to settle, and I wasn't exactly ready to answer a million questions yet about who I was and what I could do...

And, in all honesty, I was still a bit annoyed at that Risotto guy. Sure, I understand the stress of having to keep a team afloat, but it's like he wanted to turn down free emergency care... What an idiot. I was more than qualified for that.

Still, though, my room felt so empty without anything to make it feel like home. Ever since I was forced into this new life, I had to make do with minimalism. I know things could be worse, even though everything already seems awful, but I wished that for once, for the first time in a year, I'd have a place to sleep that I could call my own.

I had been sitting on my bed, contemplating and looking around my empty room when there was a knock on my door. I perked up and decided to open it... Hopefully it wasn't that Melone guy.

When I turned the knob and slowly creaked the door open, I could see Prosciutto's blue eyes looking down at me.

"We're getting dinner. Did you want anything?" he asked in a business-like voice.

"Oh, uh..." I tapped the doorframe in thought. I wasn't expecting this. In fact, I hadn't been thinking about food at all. "Where, uh... Are you guys headed?"

"Just a family-owned place down the street. Serves all your basic dishes."

I thought for a moment before shrugging. "Something simple, I guess. Cacio e Pepe sounds good."

"Alright."

He began to walk away but I stopped him and rushed to my wallet. I slipped out about 1,700 Lira, then passed it to him through the door.

"This should be enough to cover my meal. Just keep whatever's left over."

After a slight pause, he took the money and stuck it in one of the inner pockets of his suit jacket. "We'll be back."

"Is anyone staying behind, or will I be home alone?"

"Risotto is staying behind."

I guess the look of annoyance on my face was a bit too obvious because he raised a brow at me and asked a question in response.

"I take it he went a bit hard on you during your meeting?"

"Ugh, yeah... A bit."

"Good. Get used to it. This isn't going to be an easy job, and the scrutiny starts from day one."

I searched his eyes, keeping hold of the doorframe and trying to come up with something to say, but I couldn't... I just looked down at the floor and nodded.

"I understand."

"That being said, it's not like you're the only new one."

I now looked back up at him, my interest piqued. "Huh?"

"Although he's been here for about a year, Pesci is still under my training. He doesn't even have a single kill under his belt, but he'll get there."

"Oh, I see... So, you're saying I have a chance?"

His serious expression dropped for a brief moment, and he grinned slightly. His front teeth were a bit larger than average. When he talked or smiled, you could see them peeking out from underneath his top lip. It was interesting to look at... It was subtle, but still different, in a charming way. Even better, it seemed like I was getting on his good side.

"As long as you pay attention, follow orders, use your instincts, and live by our motto, you'll do just fine," he replied.

"I assume I'll learn the motto in time?"

"In due time, yes. For now, just find someone to stick close by to and learn the ropes from them. Just... avoid Melone." He glanced back towards the stairs while cringing a bit.

"So, you've already got your hands too full for me, then?" I asked knowingly with a bit of a smile.

He sighed a bit and I could see that he was suppressing whatever unserious expression threatened to paint his face. "Quite full. Pesci is a project. You'll find someone else."

I shrugged. "Can't blame a girl for trying... I'll see you all later. Enjoy dinner."

He nodded to me before walking back towards the stairs. I then shut my door again and flopped down on my bed, taking a deep breath. That went better than I thought it would. Prosciutto is extremely serious but there's a hint of care about him... He almost radiates calm. However, he had given me a lot to think about... Who would be my mentor if not him?

 

*

 

I decided that my play would be to get on everyone's good sides as quickly as possible. I would worm my way into their lives through various methods, like making desserts, asking if they wanted anything when I went out, and cooking breakfast in the morning. Prosciutto told me to "follow my instincts", and I was taught all my life that the way to a man's heart is through food. At least, that's what my mother told me. Then again, she was a more traditional woman... I did not follow in her footsteps.

I decided, that for now, I was going to make dessert. And I'd go with a simple Greek classic: baklava. I carefully left my room and headed towards the kitchen, looking around the house as I went. Now that it was quiet and I was mostly alone, I could take a chance to acquaint myself. However, when I reached the cupboards and looked through them, I could tell from a glance that I didn't have all of the ingredients I needed to bake... much of anything, actually.

"Damn..." I muttered to myself under my breath.

I could count my losses, or, I could do something about it. And I was typically a person of action. I quickly rushed back upstairs to my room and grabbed my wallet and phone, and stuck them in the pack strapped to my hip. I then went back downstairs and left out the front door, heading towards the nearest grocery store I could find.

 

*

 

I had spent quite a long time in the store and had spent quite a lot of money on groceries, but it was fine. It needed to be done, anyway. But I only realized I didn't yet have a key to the base once I got to the doorstep. I had already lugged all of the groceries here... I had several bags hung around my wrist, one pressed to my chest, meat and produce in a crate I was holding, and a box that I was holding still with my chin. Shit... I hope the guys are home by now. Or that Risotto will hear me knocking.

I set the crate down and knocked on the door as best as I could with all of the bags around my wrist. After about 30 seconds, no one answered, and I started to get antsy. Maybe I hadn't knocked loud enough. I knocked again, this time harder, and after about another 30 seconds, Risotto answered the door with a confused expression. I took a breath of relief before picking up the crate by my feet and coming inside.

"Sorry, I don't have a key yet!" I said in a bit of a strained voice.

"Did you... go out and get groceries?" he asked in a dumbfounded manner.

I set down the crate on the counter and started slipping the bags off my wrist. "Yeah. Why?"

"It's not even your first full day and you're already shopping..."

"So? The cupboards were in a sorry state. Besides, I wanted to bake, and I couldn't since I didn't have the ingredients."

"Don't tell me that you think baking and cooking for us is going to win us over."

I rolled my eyes as I put away the groceries, turned away from him. "It's not like it'll hurt my case."

There was a pause before he spoke again, this time in much less of a condescending voice. "You're serious? You're just going to come in here and, what...? Take care of us?"

I turned around and faced him now, studying his demeanor. He seemed... confused. Maybe even a little taken aback.

"Is that a problem?" I retorted.

With that, he put on a stern, hardened expression again. "We're grown men. And hitmen, for that matter. We don't need someone to come in and... act like a mother."

I laughed a bit in a snarky manner before speaking again. "Hah! You'll turn down free healthcare and fresh-cooked meals? Somebody's negative..."

"You're getting a little too comfortable."

"That, or you're a little too uncomfortable with a woman who isn't scared of you."

I watched him stiffen up before he scowled at me, and that only made me snicker some more.

"You seemed so nervous when I first laid eyes on you, but now you're acting like you know me," he finally said.

"I think that's because you got on my nerves earlier, and now, I'm not intimidated by you."

"...And why is that?"

"Because, as it stands, you need my money. For once, I have the advantage in the situation. Now, would a less brazen person still tread lightly around a hitman? Sure. But I have nothing to lose... And if I up and leave, you can say goodbye to all of your expenses paid..."

"You're smart. I'll give you that..." he reluctantly huffed out before leaning forward on the other side of the peninsula counter. "But you're also manipulative."

"I like to think I'm resourceful. Besides, if I wasn't, I'd just be taken advantage of..." My expression darkened a bit as memories of the recent past clouded my mind. "I won't make the same mistake twice."

I could see him analyzing my every word, and I decided to switch gears. I leaned with my back against the counter, gesturing a bit as I spoke.

"Look, I spent my whole life having to prove myself and shove my way into male-dominated spaces. I'm used to getting pushback and having to fight for what I want. I'm used to trying to outperform everyone's expectations. Needless to say, if I could do all of that before, I can do it now. And I won't let you stop me from making the best of the situation I've found myself in, whether you want to dislike me or not."

After that, I took a breath I didn't know I needed and tapped the counter with my nails, then glanced back up at Risotto. I don't think he was expecting me to say something like this, but he looked less tense than before. A thoughtful silence fell between us and I swore I could see a hint of understanding in his eyes. The silence was broken, though, by the front door opening, and the six men bustling in, already involved in their own conversation. When Risotto turned around to look at them, I simply went back to putting away the groceries, a bit of a contented smirk on my face. Maybe Risoto wasn't as scary as I thought he was...

"Woah, you got groceries?" I heard Formaggio ask. He was standing in the entrance of the kitchen now.

"Yep!" I replied, holding up a box of food in my hands, as if to show it off. "Just got some basics for now... I wanted to bake while you guys were gone so that it was nearly done by the time you came back, but I didn't have any of the ingredients I needed."

"Damn! You're gonna treat us right, huh?" he teased.

"Might as well."

Prosciutto walked past Formaggio and set a brown paper bag on the counter.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Your food."

"Oh, grazie."

"Mhm."

Both Prosciutto and Formaggio left the kitchen now, and after a moment, Risotto stepped away as well. The men could clearly see me through the cut out in the wall, and I could clearly hear their conversation, but they otherwise ignored me. It was nice. It felt almost natural. I'll have a space here, whether or not they'll allow me one or if I'll have to carve one out myself.

 

*

 

In the morning, I awoke a bit suddenly to the sounds of commotion and arguing coming from downstairs. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes, my long, green hair in a complete mess. I had taken out my braids before going to bed and had forgotten to tie it up again, so it was down to the floor and knotted. I adjusted my silky sleep top and slid out of bed, my eyes squinting due to the morning light coming in through the blinds in my room.

I stumbled towards the door and opened it before shuffling down the stairs in a half-awake haze. The angry and clamoring voices only got louder the closer I got to the living room. Just what the hell was going on down there...?

As I finally stepped into the room and got a read on the situation, it went dead silent. Everyone was in their lounge clothes and had frozen in place, staring back at me. Ghiaccio was in front of Melone, nearly grasping him, and Melone had his arms outstretched in front of him, keeping him away. Prosciutto was pulling Ghiaccio away, and Formaggio, on the opposite side, had his hands on Melone's shoulders. Illuso was sitting on the floor next to Formaggio, as if he had gotten knocked over, and Pesci was standing off to the side, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Finally, Risotto was sitting on the couch eating from a bowl in his lap, seeming completely unbothered by the whole scenario unfolding before him. He hadn't even looked up at me.

"Um... Good morning..." I mumbled with a confused tone.

Formaggio was the first one to speak, shrugging a bit. "You'll get used to this."

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

If you scroll to the bottom of this chapter jumpscare warning for Althaia's back end. She was meant to be stretching but I've learned that people were startled by the art... Sorry guys *sobs*

Chapter 7: Ball and Chain

Summary:

She acts all tough but she's real sweet at heart...

Alex's perspective

Fiesole, Italia- 2001

 

The idiot said he'd be home any second now, 'nd here I was standin' in front of the mirror fussin' over my hair 'nd makeup. Why should I care at all if I 'look pretty' for him? The bloke's the one who proposed 'ta me five years ago anyway...

But I hadn't seen 'im in three weeks 'nd despite myself I missed 'im like hell... But if I said so, he'd rub it in my face. I just know it. I make myself plenty busy all by my lonesome. I'm not just somebody's wife.

Every little braid in my hair was in place, every cone-shaped bun. The magenta paint I wore 'round my eyes was in its nearly perfect diamond shape... I knew I looked damn good. I knew he was damn lucky 'ta even be with me... But, dunno, I guess deep down I'm still an insecure, lovesick lil' girl worried 'bout stupid things like how I looked in the mirror.

I'd been adjusting the collar 'a my leather jacket when I heard a key turnin' in the lock. Damn... Should I play it cool 'nd pretend I don't care that he's home, or should I rush there 'nd kiss him silly? Both sides 'a me were in a major scrap right now. My indecision ultimately led 'ta me stayin' put in the bedroom, right in fronta the chest 'a drawers.

I heard the door open 'nd his shoes hittin' the wooden floor. "Honey, I'm home," he announced in a singsong voice.

I huffed a bit 'nd rolled my eyes. Damn cornball.

"Baby? Are ya here?" I heard 'im call out again.

I sighed 'nd answered back finally. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here, 'Maggie. In the bedroom."

I waited 'ta see 'is goofy grin 'nd green eyes in the doorway, my arms crossed over my chest. When he finally appeared, 'is smile was just as wide as I expected it 'ta be.

"There you are, Princess. I've missed ya, y'know," Formaggio greeted.

"Uh huh, I betcha did," I huffed, eyein' 'im over. "Where's your ring?"

He reached 'is hand into 'is pocket 'fore retrievin' 'is wedding band 'nd slippin' onto 'is ring finger. "Right here."

"Good."

"I thought you'd be more excited to see me. Something wrong or are ya just trying to pretend ya don't care?"

I looked away, a frown on my face. He's got me figured out 'nd I know it. He's had me figured out since high school.

"Nah, I'm happy to see ya... I'm just not sappy. You know that," I assured.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Doesn't matter to me though, 'cause I know you can't get enough a' me." He came closer, a cheesy smile plastered on 'is tanned face.

"Wipe that damn smirk offa your face 'fore I do."

"Oh, quit actin' scary."

He wrapped 'is arms 'round me in a hug, 'is chin restin' on my shoulder. 'Nd despite my tough-talk, I loved the man 'ta death, so I hugged 'im back. It felt nice 'ta be held, 'ta smell 'is familiar cologne again... 'Nd when he spoke English 'round me, I'd always enjoyed 'is Italian accent. And I know he enjoyed my Cockney one but sometimes it was still a lil' hard for 'im to understand– especially when I spoke Italian.

He pulled away after a minute 'nd looked down into my eyes, then cupped my cheek with 'is hand. "You're just as gorgeous as always, amore mio bellissimo."

I could feel my cheeks flush a bit 'nd I knew I had 'ta play it off. I shoved 'is hand away 'nd looked off 'ta the side. "Shut up..."

"C'mere... Stop playin' hard to get."

He tipped my chin upward 'nd planted a gentle kiss on my lips, 'nd no matter how badly I wanted 'ta pretend I didn't care, I kissed 'im back. I always did.

After a moment, we separated, 'nd I tried to shake off the little fluttery feelings he always brought 'ta my chest.

"Where's the cat?" he asked, lookin' 'round the room.

"Probably in the closet."

"Ya feed her yet?"

"Yeah."

"How 'bout yourself?"

"Not yet..."

"Why don't you and I go to dinner, huh? Been awhile since we went out on a date. It'll be just like high school, 'cept we're less broke."

"Hah! Just barely..." I chuckled a bit as I thought it over. "Guess that'd be fine. But if you get all sappy in public, I'm deckin' you."

Even though I said that I enjoyed bein' pampered 'nd coddled, 'nd he knew that.

"Yeah, yeah, say whatever you want, woman. You're a big liar," he teased with an unbothered voice.

"Shut it. Now, where're we goin'?"

"The usual place down the street sound good?"

"Sounds just fine to me."

"Look at how agreeable you are now."

"Knock it off."

He snickered a bit 'fore playfully pokin' at my exposed hip 'nd I swatted 'is hand away.

"Do you get more childish every time you leave?" I asked, my eyes narrowin'.

"Hey, what can I say? I'm young at heart. Besides, I like watching ya squirm."

I rolled my eyes 'nd shoved past 'im, headed towards the front door. "Yeah, yeah, c'mon, let's go."

 

*

 

Dinner'd passed 'nd after a few hours, we fell back into the routine we usually had when we were together. And by now, I'd changed into an old tank top 'nd baggy pants, let my blue 'nd purple hair down, 'nd wiped off my makeup. I was lying in bed beside 'Maggie, staring up at the ceiling, holding 'is hand while he caught me up on everything he'd done for the past three weeks. He liked 'ta talk a lot. Fortunately, I didn't mind the sound 'a 'is voice, even if I lied 'nd said I did.

"Oh, yeah, and we had a new recruit come in," he began.

I raised a brow 'nd glanced over at 'im. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. I thought it'd be a guy, turns out it was a chick. She's gettin' along with everyone so far."

"A woman? In Passione? Don't hear 'a that every day..."

"Yeah, I was a bit shocked too but it ain't so bad. I mean, she's nice enough. And she cooks better than most of us. 'Cept maybe Prosciutto."

I really didn't like how jealous 'nd insecure I could be, but my mind immediately began racing with the possibilities of this woman potentially bein' prettier than me 'nd catching 'is eye... What could happen when I wasn't around... That anyone could think he was free for the takin' 'cause he don't wear 'is wedding ring at work. It was annoying, but the thoughts flew 'round my mind quicker than I could stop 'em. He musta realized that I was spiralin', though, 'cause he squeezed my hand 'nd brought my attention back to 'im.

"Why're you starin' off like that? You overthinkin' again?" he asked in a soft voice, turnin' over on 'is side 'ta face me.

I sighed 'nd rubbed my forehead, tryin' 'ta come up with a sentence that didn't sound utterly bonkers. "Guess I just feel a lil' more insecure the longer you're away, that's all. You've done nothin' 'ta make me doubt you, but I can't get those feelins' 'ta go away, innit?"

"You worried that I'd have the hots for the new girl or something?"

"Guess so..."

He laughed a bit 'nd pulled me closer, 'is arm draped over my waist. "I think you're losin' it... I'd be crazy to ever pass ya up. You're way outta my league but you're still mine. I'm not gonna throw away your trust over someone I barely know– or anyone, for that matter."

I supposed the more tired I got, the less I fought all the lovey-dovey stuff, 'cause I let 'im hold me 'nd talk all sweet 'ta me. In fact, I even closed my eyes 'nd buried my face in the crook 'a 'is neck.

"I know... I know all that. It's completely irrational... I never said it made any sense," I muttered.

"Heh, maybe you're a little crazy, but I like you that way... I wouldn't change you. You keep me on my toes. You're a little mean but it's hot–"

"Shut it."

"Fine, fine. But hey, listen to me. You and I are solid, alright? We've been here since high school. You've seen me at my worst, I've seen ya at yours. You're my best friend. Nothin's changin' that. Not anything, not any person."

A rare soft, genuine smile spread across my lips, 'nd I snuggled up closer 'ta 'im. "And you're mine, 'Maggie. But don't get used 'ta me sayin' it."

"Hah! I'd never..."

We continued a quiet conversation for a while longer 'til we both fell asleep. My home was finally complete with 'im here again. I had no reason 'ta believe our family would ever get bigger than us 'nd our cat, but I wasn't complainin'... I'd plenty enough 'ta be thankful for.

Besides, I'm not 'mother material' anyway...

*

The next mornin', I'd decided 'ta make aloo paratha for breakfast. I would've eaten it anyway, even if 'Maggie wasn't home. He was still asleep, so with the silence, I'd time 'ta think. I hadn't told 'Maggie yet but that last job I had at that fancy store down in Firenze didn't work out so well. A customer got short with me 'nd I mighta lost my cool on 'em. I got fired... I've never really had much of a 'normal' job all my life, but one could say I used 'ta have one 'a the oldest professions...

Your average Italian prick would call me a 'puttana'... But I'd kill anyone brave enough to say that word 'ta my face. It feels weak or childish to me, but even when someone orders 'spaghetti alla puttanesca' at a restaurant, I feel that twinge 'a shivers up my back 'nd a pit in my stomach. I wish it'd go away. I'm not exactly a fearful person, but it makes me feel like I am. It's to the point where 'Maggie hasn't ordered it in years.

It's been a slow process, but I've begun 'ta resort back 'ta my old tendency 'ta be a bit of a street punk. It's easy 'ta mug someone. Even scare someone into giving you their cash or swindle a naive tourist. Usually I'd boast about it, but I'm runnin' my "business" through Passione territory. If any mafiosi found out that I've been makin' money offa their turf, I'd have my ass kicked. Maybe even worse. But hesitation don't pay the bills, 'nd I had to make somethin' work while 'Maggie was gone. Besides, it's not like he's the richest man either.

Why don't I become a mafiosa myself? 'Cause I spent most 'a my life being chained to un magnaccia nearly 'nd there's no way in hell I'd ever sign my life away 'ta anyone ever again. I just barely got outta that last ordeal, 'nd I know that if I joined Passione, I'd never be able 'ta leave the syndicate.

It's 'is life 'nd all but I still think 'Maggie's a damn fool for getting caught up in this mafia nonsense. At least they hired a whack job like 'im. He makes 'is money offin' knobs, 'nd I don't ask any questions.

It makes me wonder what clicked in 'im 'ta make 'im this way... I still remember the boy he used to be. Not a whole lot has changed but there was a certain goodwill 'nd innocence in his eyes that just... isn't there anymore. The violence used 'ta be noble. At least he still smiles. Maybe something happened in 'is brief time away from me after high school that changed everything, but even if it did, he's never told me.

I still love my ball 'nd chain just the same, though.

 

-- Chapter End --

🔺🔺🔺

Notes:

If you see art of the two and think, "How did someone like him bag someone like her?", then I made the discrepancy in their designs just right lmao

Chapter 8: Sleuthing

Summary:

It's all fun and games until you're four idiots with a broken laptop...

Third-person perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

A clunky laptop with a green case over it sat half-hazardly abandoned on the coffee table of La Squadra's headquarters. It belonged to none of the hitman, and seeing as it was unfamiliar to all of them, it was obviously Althaia's. The first to come across it was Illuso, who, while curious, mostly ignored it. The next to join him on the couch was Formaggio, who was having himself a drink and watching a sports game on the TV. And finally, after bickering in the kitchen, Melone and Ghiaccio sat on the other couch opposite to them.

The first to bring it up was Illuso, mostly in a joking manner. "Heh, you guys see that?" He gestured to the laptop. "I think that's Althaia's... Doesn't look like any of ours."

Formaggio only glanced at it and spoke with his lips pressed to his can of soda, his voice muffled with a tinny quality. "Probably. Doesn't matter, though..."

"Why would she leave out something so important when she barely knows any of us? Do you think she's stupid? Maybe she has no sense of security," Ghiaccio began, interest piqued by the concept of it rather than the laptop itself.

"Or maybe that Greek goddess of ours is testing us... Perhaps she wants to see if her belongings can be trusted with us," Melone countered. "On the other hand, maybe this is actually an invitation to open it up and learn more about her... I'd love to learn about her genealogy."

With that, Melone was now convinced by this delusion and practically salivating at the thought, which the other men grimaced at.

"What is wrong with you? The world isn't out to seduce you, y'know..." Formaggio said.

"He brings up a good point, though... We hardly know a thing about her, and this is the perfect opportunity to learn." Illuso leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and zeroing in on the laptop.

"What if she can't be trusted? Or maybe there's a big conspiracy here. I mean, why was she sent here of all branches?" Ghiaccio rambled. "So, she can automatically get a higher rank than 'soldado'? And it seems like she has an in with some big names."

"You make a good point..."

"Then I say it's settled! Well snoop through her laptop," Melone declared.

"What?" Formaggio looked around at the three other men, setting his soda down. "Are you guys outta your minds? Look, we're all into some shady stuff but she's supposed to be our teammate. That's crossing a line."

"Aw, are you scared?" Illuso snarked. "You don't know a thing about her. Why are you defending her? You got a crush or something?"

"God, would you shut your mouth?!" Formaggio furrowed his brows and punched him in the arm a bit. "So, I gotta want something outta her just 'cause I'm trying to respect a woman's privacy? There's nothing in it for me; I'm just trying to be... y'know... not a total scumbag for once in my life..."

He had learned a lot of lessons from his wife and one of them was: if you violated a woman's privacy, she had the right to violate your face with her fist. Besides, if she knew he hadn't stood up for an innocent girl then he knew he'd be in the doghouse. He knew better.

"You're a hitman. That ship sailed a long time ago..." Melone muttered in response.

"'The ship has sailed'... Finally, a damn metaphor that makes some sense." Ghiaccio crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back.

"You guys are a bunch of idiotas. It's just a laptop, plain and simple. Not an invitation. You guys were raised with manners, right?" Formaggio retorted.

"Hmph," Illuso huffed in amusement. "Be a coward all you want to, but the rest of us are going to get to the bottom of this."

Melone quickly seized his opportunity and grabbed the laptop, opening it and accessing the login screen with ease. Ghiaccio looked over his shoulder and Illuso quickly moved to stand on the other side of the arm rest he was sitting against.

"Damn," Melone cursed, tapping away at the keyboard, "it's password protected."

"Obviously it would be, dumbass," Ghiaccio gruffed. "Even if she was stupid enough to leave her laptop out, she wouldn't leave it without a password."

"That's probably why she felt comfortable leaving it out," Illuso added.

"The hell are you guys doing?!" Formaggio exclaimed, standing up. "Are you seriously trying to go through it?!"

"If I could just bypass the password prompt with a back-end command, I could probably-" Melone was cut off.

Formaggio grabbed at the computer, trying to tug it away from Melone, but he wouldn't let go.

"Drop it, Melone! I'm trying to save your ass!" Formaggio grunted in effort, gritting his teeth.

"It'll be over and done with before she ever finds out!" Melone said with a strained voice, yanking back on the laptop.

The push-and-pull went on for a few more seconds before Melone's gloved hands lost grip and the laptop jolted in Formaggio's direction. Since he had been pulling so hard and the resistance was suddenly removed, the laptop went flying out of his hands and hit the floor off to the side, a loud crash emanating from it.

All four men stood there in silence with shocked expressions, bodies rigid and tense, looking at the damage they had done to it. Some keys had popped off and the top of the keyboard plate had a dent and gap in it now.

"Well, look what you've done! You dumbasses! Now she's gonna know we messed with it!" Ghiaccio yelled.

"Good going, Formaggio..." Illuso huffed.

"Me?!" Formaggio gestured to himself before pointing at Melone. "He's the one with the weak grip that let go like that!"

"None of this would have happened if you'd just have let me have five seconds with it and not ripped it out of my hands!" Melone spat out in a fit of panic.

"No, this wouldn't have happened if you guys didn't try to snoop through it, you assholes!" Formaggio shouted.

"I told you to lose the damn gloves, smartass!" Ghiaccio swatted at Melone.

Illuso went and picked up the laptop, inspecting it. He pressed the space bar, and when the screen still lit up, he grinned a bit. "Hey, it's not all bad. It still works."

Ghiaccio began to tap his foot impatiently. "Well, that's great and all, but she's still gonna know we even touched it!"

"God, we're screwed..." Formaggio groaned, covering his forehead with his hand.

The bickering went on for several more seconds, though Melone had his eyes closed, his hands clasped together in a thoughtful manner. Sure, he knew his way around a computer software wise, but this was a whole different issue. And, fortunately, he had the name and number to the best in the business when it came to the tech world.

Just at the height of the angry shouting voices from the others, Melone cleared his throat, getting their attention.

"Gentleman, settle down..." he interjected with a calm voice. "I have a solution. I just have to call someone."

*

After about 45 minutes, there was an odd knock at the door. Melone hadn't given the others much more information past the fact that he knew someone who could fix it, and the group was on edge, afraid Althaia would be home any moment.

Melone quickly answered the door and before him stood a fair-skinned woman with long, wavy wine-red hair, red eyes, crimson lipstick, and a shimmering red sort-of jumpsuit on with a dark cardigan over her shoulders. More curiously, she was wearing a dark, lace eye-mask across her eyes, and she had a pair of gold forearm crutches attached to her arms.

"What do you want, idiota?" the woman said in a smooth, aloof voice.

"Ciao, Marsala... As I said over the phone, I need you to quickly repair a laptop," Melone explained in an almost nervous manner.

Marsala rolled her eyes a bit before stepping inside. "Why am I always fixing laptops for you?"

The three other men looked this mysterious woman up and down, and now that she was standing right beside Melone, something became glaringly obvious... They looked similar. Extremely so. Even down to the way their hair was parted.

"Melone, who is this...?" Formaggio finally asked, gesturing between the two of them.

Melone rubbed the back of his neck and spoke in a voice much less confident than usual. "Ah, right... I'd like you all to meet my twin sister, Marsala..."

In almost perfect unison, the men exclaimed, "Twin sister?!"

"Yes, unfortunately..." Marsala confirmed, then carefully made her way towards the laptop, using her crutches to walk. She inspected it from afar before shrugging, her face completely expressionless. "Should be an easy enough fix... Melone," she began.

"Hm?"

"Go get my tool bag from my car. Fretta." She snapped her fingers, not even looking up at him.

Melone rushed out the door and towards Marsala's car. In the brief silence that followed, the other men studied the woman in front of them. How the hell could Melone have a twin sister? Why did she seem so... normal? How come they didn't already know about her?

"So, growing up with Melone..." Illuso trailed off.

Marsala pulled out her phone and began typing on it, disinterested in the people in front of her. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah. Right..." Illuso uttered awkwardly.

Geez... She was hard to talk to. What an ice queen...

Soon enough, Melone returned with a tool bag full of computer repair items, and without prompt, helped Marsala into a chair so that she could begin working, and even set her crutches off to the side. It's like he was a completely different person with her, and it astonished the others. He seemed... like a regular guy. Considerate, patient, cooperative, respectful. Usually, he seemed like he was compelled to act like a total creep around women, but, thankfully, he behaved as an average brother should.

The room was tense, silent, and awkward with Marsala around, and Melone could feel the many questions rising within the other men as they waited. Marsala was nimble with her gloved fingers and was wearing a magnifying glass spectacle as she expertly mended the damaged laptop.

After a cruel 30 minutes of dead air, Marsala finally spoke, and the men took a sigh of relief they didn't know they were holding.

"It seems like the case absorbed most of the shock... I'm almost done. You're lucky the screen didn't crack, or I'd have to take it back to my workshop."

"Oh, that's great news!" Melone cheered.

Formaggio closed his eyes and finally relaxed a bit. "Thank God..."

"Which one of you does this laptop belong to?" she asked.

The men looked around at each other, silently deciding what lie they should tell, but ever intuitive, Marsala caught on.

"This doesn't belong to any of you, does it?"

"Uh, no..." Melone replied.

"Then whose is it?"

"Our colleague's... But it was an accident, I swear!" Formaggio answered.

Marsala rolled her eyes before gesturing to Melone. "This one tried to play sleuth and dig around in it, didn't he?"

Illuso did a double take. "How'd you know...?"

"He's always been the sneaky type with like, zero boundaries."

Melone wore a sheepish grin while the other three glared at him.

"Wow, glad to know he's had no character development over his life..." Ghiaccio butted in.

"Whose laptop is this?" Marsala repeated, getting back on track.

"Uh, her name is Althaia..." Melone said.

"You four were trying to snoop through a woman's laptop? Tch. No wonder you don't get laid."

All the men but Formaggio bristled up and wore befuddled expressions.

"You don't... know what you're talking about, lady," Illuso murmured bitterly.

"Well, I was trying to stop them. I was pulling the laptop away. That's how it broke. Hah! Looks like I'm sittin' pretty in this whole matter..." Formaggio wore a shit-eating grin and rested his arms behind his head.

"It's the bare minimum but... at least you have some dignity," Marsala huffed.

"Hey! I have dignity! How would you even know anything about us?!" Ghiaccio roared.

Marsala held her hand up, as if to stop him, meeting his eyes with a completely calm expression. "Please, I don't have the energy, nor the care to entertain your ranting, Ghiaccio."

That took the wind out of his sails, and he blinked a few times, lowering his voice. "How do you know my name?"

"I'm logged into the Passione network," she explained. "I have access to everyone's Member files. I know your name, age, birthday, birthplace, height, incidence history, Stand logistics, spoken languages, any job you've ever botched, you name it... None of you are a mystery to me."

"Wait, you're a mafiosa?" Illuso asked, dumbfounded.

"Psh. It's not that glamorous. I'm a glorified IT worker. But I'm the best of the best. And I know everyone's dirt, so don't test me."

"Right, right, moving along..." Melone tittered. "How far off are you from fixing the laptop?"

"Almost done."

"Damn, if Althaia walks through that door, we're done for..." Formaggio glanced over at it.

"Your rambling is not helping me focus," she said, squinting a bit and holding the keyboard to the base with a pair of pliers.

"Geez, alright..."

 

-- Chapter End --

🍷🍷🍷

Notes:

Marsala my beloved...

Chapter 9: Digital Love

Summary:

The world is scary, and for Marsala, digital love is easier!

Marsala's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

I didn't enjoy leaving my server room. The real world was so bright, overwhelming, and uncontrollable. But the digital world wasn't. I had complete control over that domain, and in it, it didn't matter that I had trouble walking, or I couldn't express my emotions through my voice or face. All that mattered was how fast I could type, how much code I could remember, and who I pretended I was.

Being in this room full of other people, I no longer had that luxury. All I could be was myself, and I was aware that I was off-putting, monotone, and blunt, but... I don't know what it was... There's some kind of disconnect from emotions and my body. I can't force myself to talk cheerfully when I'm happy or even smile. That's why I like sitting behind a screen better.

"So, why are you trying to learn this woman's business anyway?" I asked, my attempt at 'small talk'.

"Oh, uh..." Melone trailed off.

"She's new and these three idiots were convinced she was here under some dumbass conspiracy," Formaggio explained, seeming completely unbothered now. Maybe it's because he knew he was in the right.

"Hm... What was her name again?"

"Althaia... Uh..." I could see Illuso's expression hardening in thought.

"Shit. We don't know her last name, do we?" Ghiaccio sat up straight now.

"I can figure it out..." I said.

All I really meant was that I could figure it out for myself. But I guess they thought I meant that I'd help them learn more about her... All four of them stared at me with eager eyes.

I glanced up at them from above my magnifying spectacles. "Are you expecting me to do something about it?" I asked.

"Well... Since you're already here, if you could tell us more about her..." Melone began.

"Psh. Why not find out yourself by, I don't know, asking her questions?"

"That'd take forever! And what if she doesn't want to answer them?" Ghiaccio countered.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, setting the fixed laptop down and looking back up at all of them. "Look, I don't have the time for games like this. I barely even decided to make it here. I was going to bail. I have a server room to get back to. Why don't you guys just act like normal people and have a regular conversation?"

This was my version of trying to be polite, but I guess my constantly drab tone rubbed people the wrong way. They thought I was talking down on them and chastising when I wasn't.

"Hmph, well, excuse us for asking..." Illuso muttered, arms crossed over his chest.

I sighed and shook my head. I hated how I talked. I never got my points across correctly. "Well, it's fixed..." I closed the laptop and began putting my tools away. "Guess we're done here."

Just as I was about to ask Melone to retrieve my crutches, the door opened, and four people poured into the house. I could recognize all but one from seeing their files. There was Risotto Nero, age 28, born in Sicilia, birth year of 1975... He was always an interesting file to read. Never failed a mission. Then that Pesci newbie, a woman who I could only assume was Althaia, and a blond guy– O Dio mio...

It was Prosciutto...

I'm sure it didn't exactly show on my face, but I felt my heart thumping in my chest... I wondered if my eyes got wider or if my face flushed, but I couldn't tell. He was... as perfect as his pictures looked.

I had read his Member file probably years ago now. That's when I learned about him. By now, I had probably reread it a hundred or more times, and I remember every little detail... I could trace every pixel of his face with my cursor by memory. I had poured over everything: his birthday, his Stand, his successful assassinations and incidence history. I could only ever imagine what his voice sounded like... To see him move. I never thought this moment would come to me. I was unprepared. My heart wasn't ready to take it.

Call me obsessed, because that's what I was... I guess those morbid curiosities ran in the family. I just hid it better.

Risotto narrowed his eyes at me and pointed in my direction. "Who is that? Why is she here?"

"You guys look super similar!" Althaia said, gesturing between us.

Melone stood up and put his hand on my shoulder, which I quickly shrugged off. "Ah, everyone, this is my twin sister, Marsala. She works in Passione's IT apartment."

"Sister?! Hah! Wow! No wonder you guys look similar," Althaia exclaimed, almost inspecting the two of us now.

Risotto, for reasons I could only assume, turned and walked away down the nearest hallway upon hearing this information, and his expression was stern, but it almost seemed... regretful.

"How come you didn't tell us before that you had a sister? And one that was in the familia, no less," Prosciutto asked, his gorgeous blue eyes landing on me.

I felt myself freeze in place. I couldn't even blink or talk. I think the air left my lungs too. This was so much more different than looking at the pictures of him plastered on my wall...

"I... suppose it never came up," Melone replied, rubbing the back of his neck in a coy manner.

"You both even wear masks too! Heh, that's funny..." Pesci remarked.

I didn't know what to do... I felt so out in the open and exposed. And Prosciutto was here. Looking at me. Not the other way around. It was all brand new and terrifying. The concept of him meeting me, touching me, speaking to me, hating me... I know my face probably came off as deadpanned as ever but inside I was panicking.

And just as I feared, Prosciutto reached down towards me, that serious, business-like expression on his pleasant, fair-skinned face.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Marsala. I suppose now I know who to call should I have any trouble with my computer," he said.

I wanted to grab my crutches and get out of there as fast as I could, but... there was a braver part of me that was ecstatic to finally have a real interaction with him. To feel his soft hand around mine, hearing him say my name...

I didn't let myself think too hard about it. I simply extended my arm out and shook his hand, nodding. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well," I replied in a tone so disinterested the rest of the room probably thought I was being rude.

Perhaps I was just making things up in my mind or my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn I saw the corner of his lips twitch upward in the beginnings of a faint smile before he walked away...

Did he... smile at me? Did my beloved Prosciutto really smile at me? This was amazing... I felt like every part of me was deliberately painted with life like a renaissance masterpiece... Like this feeling in my heart was carved into my chest cavity by the finest Ancient Roman sculptor.

I wanted to stop him and tell him that I had committed every angle of his face to memory, that I knew the hex code of his eyes, that every time it came up on my screen that he had made a successful kill, I cheered for him!

But I knew that sounded insane... He knew not a thing about me except that I was related to Melone... Ugh...

"Marsala," Melone whispered to me. "Are you ready to go?"

I was snapped out of my thoughts by this, and I looked up at him. Ugh, he was so annoying. But I could still see my face in his, almost exactly. Sure, maybe he hadn't done anything wrong at this very moment, but the things he had pestered me with in our childhood still made me bitter to this day.

"Yeah, sure..." I said with a huff.

He put one arm around my waist and grabbed one of my hands with his free one, helping me up off the couch. I hated low chairs like this, and I supposed he remembered that. He then fetched me my crutches and I attached them to my forearm again, now able to stand up just fine.

"Aw, you leaving already?" Althaia asked, her head turned a bit.

"I have matters I need to tend to back in the server room..." I replied, making my way towards the middle of the room.

"Oh, well, maybe you could come over again sometime. It'd be nice to have another girl here every once in a while."

"Yeah, I'd guess so..." I glanced at all the men in the room. There are too many people living in this damn house. "I don't envy you, let's just say that."

I could see Formaggio grin a bit, his eyes focused on the TV he just turned on. "Don't have to say that twice. Glad I got my own place."

"Well, don't rub it in!" Ghiaccio shouted.

"Melone," I said, snapping my finger, "my bag, please. Bring it out to the car."

"Sciò! Ci penso io." He picked up my bag, then rushed ahead and opened the door for me. "Do you need help getting into the car?"

"No, I'm fine."

As I was hobbling out, I could hear Althaia say, "Wow, Melone's so nice around her."

If only she knew...

 

*

 

Once we had made it to my car and Melone had put my bag in the backseat, he opened the driver's side door for me, even though I told him I didn't need any help.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"What does it look like? I'm opening the door," he said in his typical smooth, almost condescending voice.

"No, not just that... It's everything you've been doing." I leaned against my car now, looking up at him. "For the past few years, you've slowly been becoming more... considerate, I suppose... And now it's to the point where you're damn near coddling me. What is happening?"

I watched his blue eyes look down at the street and he awkwardly moved his lilac bangs out of his face. "Do I have to have a reason to be nice to my dear sister?"

"Perhaps most people wouldn't, but you do."

He fidgeted with his glove for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. "I'm... trying to make up for the way I used to be."

It was honestly surprising to hear him say it. I didn't know he was capable of self-reflection, let alone changing his ways. I raised a brow at him, crossing my arms over my chest. That was more emotion than I typically showed, and he seemed to realize that too.

"I'm not a good man by any means. Not even close. And while I couldn't care less about most of my 'disgraceful' behavior, I actually do... care about how I affected you," he went on.

"So, you're self-aware? Interesting..."

"Of course, I am. Just because I act without morals doesn't mean I'm not aware of it."

"To be honest, a part of me, to this day, is still angry with you..."

"I know that. And I want to make it better," he said with a sigh. "You were sick and vulnerable. You didn't deserve to be the subject of my... let's say, morbid curiosities. And you didn't deserve to be bothered by my ramblings and research while you could hardly care for yourself."

I looked away, tapping my forearm with my fingers. He sounded sincere and genuine. And by how his actions towards me have changed, it sounded like he was actively trying to be a better brother to me.

"I didn't enjoy being an experiment..." I muttered. "A subject for your pseudoscience, thinking you could somehow "cure" me..."

There was a heavy silence between us before he spoke again. This time, he sounded weaker and more quiet.

"I know. And I'm sorry... I didn't mean to do you harm, but I obviously did. I want to see you more often... try to make things right. If that's okay with you, of course..."

I thought it over, glancing at him periodically and observing the sullen expression on his face. How curious...

"Fine."

I watched his head shoot up and his wide eyes dart to me. "Really?"

"Yes... I don't hate you. I'm just a bit angry. I've mostly gotten over it. It's not like you did something unforgivable to me."

Oh, here it comes... I had already prepared myself.

"Di molto!" he exclaimed, suddenly pulling me into an excited hug. "Molto bene! This is very good to hear, Marsala."

I didn't hug him back; I just stood there and rolled my eyes. "Mhm."

I had told him time and time again that "di molto" doesn't mean a damn thing. But he's said it since childhood... Idiota...

He pulled away, his hands on my shoulders, a big smile on his face. "I love you dearly, sister of mine. Though, I suppose you're probably not ready to say that back to me."

I huffed and shook my head, lowering myself down into the driver's seat. "You'd be right. Now stop breaking laptops and being a creep. I have to head back."

I could see a hint of disappointment in his eyes when I didn't return the sentiment, but that didn't matter to me. I was tired of the real world, anyway. I wanted to go back to my digital one. Where I could express myself through typing and abbreviations and "sound" as enthusiastic as I felt.

He shut my door for me, and I started the car, checking my surroundings before backing out of the driveway and driving down the road.

 

*

 

Third-person perspective:

Later that night, Melone's laptop chimed as he was getting ready to charge it and set it aside. When he flipped open the screen and checked his chatroom messages, there was a new one from Marsala. They hardly talked in there, or much at all, but occasionally if one needed something from the other, they'd reach out.

This new message was something he hardly expected, though...

M: ILY2, Mel (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。A prèst...

She could express digital love better, anyway...

 

-- Chapter End --

🍷🍷🍷

Notes:

You guys are going to be VERY disappointed in me later do NOT get your hopes up (I can't reveal too much yet)

Chapter 10: Heiress of The Underground

Summary:

There's something so alienating about being an extraordinary person forced into an ordinary world...

Dia's perspective

Venezia, Italia- 2001

 

The bedside alarm clock on my nightstand went off at the same time it always did: 7 AM. I groggily slammed my hand down on it to shut it up, groaning a bit... Another day...

I sat up in bed, looking down at my pillowcase. It was stained with leftover mascara and eyeliner I didn't end up scrubbing off of my tanned, freckled face last night... I guess I had been too tired to take a second look in the mirror before passing out. All that studying...

My long hair was in a frizzy mess about my head, all in my eyes and everything, ugh... I only had like, 30 minutes til V dropped by and we walked to school together.

I stretched, rubbed my eyes that were smudged dark with makeup, pulled stray hairs out of my ear piercings, and then looked around my room. It was pretty big, but I guess that's what you got when you lived in a giant, old house. I had decorated it with lots of pink and black, like my pink fuzzy throw rug, band posters, black and pink checkerboard bedspread, and dark furniture. It felt like me... This was definitely my space.

I got up and opened my laptop, booting it up and inputting my password. Then another, then another... You could never be too careful. I had a tendency to worry for the worst... Like someone was coming for me. I guess doctors would call that 'paranoia'... I call it the 'bullshit' I inherited from my father.

After checking my emails, I shut it, then collected my clothing that was draped over the desk chair. I quickly threw on my school uniform: white collared shirt, navy blue jacket, black pleated skirt, navy blue knee-high socks, leather loafers. Most schools in Italia didn't have uniforms but my pretentious one did, unfortunately. For my own sake I wore my usual matching spiked belt and wrist bands. And, of course, my mother's old blindfold... I always tied it around my neck and wore it everywhere. It was the only piece of her I had.

I quietly opened my bedroom door. I had to fix my hair and makeup as soon as possible, but I also needed to eat... Ugh. Too many things to do in the morning, too little time to just sleep instead. I rushed down the creaky wooden steps and into the kitchen, quickly heating up my leftovers from last night. I didn't exactly want dinner for breakfast, but I didn't want to waste time either. As soon as the microwave dinged, I pulled out the container, grabbed a fork, and began eating. It was still kind of hot so I had to blow on it a lot and play the game of 'is it gonna burn me this time', but I ended up finishing it pretty quickly and tossing the empty container in the sink. After that, I quickly rushed up the stairs again and into the hallway bathroom. And I was met with the sight of my father, who was standing in front of the mirror, fixing his hair.

I sighed a bit and resigned to the fact that I'd be caught in a conversation with him, probably something about "you need to wake up earlier so you don't have to rush around"...

When I finally stood by his side and looked into the mirror at my long, pink, messy hair, my piercing, almost crazed emerald eyes looking back at me, I was reminded why I always kept my hair up in a bun.

I looked so much like him...

"Bona die, Diavella. I suppose you woke up too late again," he remarked in his usual rumbling voice.

"It's fine, Dad... I've got my schedule under control," I replied with a huff, rinsing my tooth brush under the faucet.

I don't know why I had such a weird complex about how similar I looked to my father. I had the deep-seated feeling in my gut that told me it was wrong... That I was wrong because he is who he is. But I knew it sort of hurt his feelings, even if he didn't do much about it. The compulsion was hard to resist, though, because I had let it run my life for so long... Eventually, I stopped fighting it because I always failed to.

I grabbed a hair-tie out of the medicine cabinet and tied my hair back into a ponytail in the meantime, keeping my gaze low... I was ashamed of my complex and I didn't want to look into my father's eyes when I acted on these impulses. I'd tried to even dye my hair before but no damn color took... Besides, it'd drown out the blue streaks I got from my mother.

"Hm, you're still acting on that unfounded insecurity about resembling me, aren't you?" he asked, twisting his tube of magenta lipstick and applying it.

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"If it eases that discomforting voice in the back of your mind, I can recognize a lot of your mother's traits in you as well. Of course, the one's you received from me are overwhelming, but I wouldn't consider myself an ugly man."

I splashed some water on my face and began rubbing off the smudged makeup with a wash rag. "Ugh, it's not-... It's not that, Dad... I don't know how to explain it. I-I don't want to elaborate."

"Very well," he said, relenting. "I should expect your mind to be focused on your studies at this hour of the morning anyway."

"It is..."

Now with a relatively clean face, I retrieved my emergency eyeliner from the medicine cabinet and began applying it to my eyes with a practiced motion, but due to my mind being other places at the moment, I couldn't get the damn shape right... I kept cleaning each mistake with a wetted cotton swab and trying again but the more frustrated I got, the more my hand started to shake. I growled a bit under my breath and tossed the pencil aside, a sour expression on my face. I guess you could say I had also been blessed with my father's tendency to become frustrated easily as well.

However, this ordeal only caused him to snicker a bit and shake his head. He picked up the eyeliner pencil and grasped my chin, turning my head towards me.

"Hold still, il mio piccolo diavoletta..."

I did as I was told and let him quickly apply my eyeliner. He was more practiced at it than I was. I didn't have a mother to teach me these things. I was lucky to have a father who wore about as much makeup as I did... Which, overall, wasn't too much, usually.

After about two minutes or less, he was done, and handed the pencil back to me. I looked in the mirror, inspecting what he had done... As always, it was better than mine. Damn bastard...

"Gratzias..." I called out to him as he left the bathroom.

"De nudda."

I had learned sardu from my father, since he had grown up in Sardigna. I mostly spoke it around the house with him rather than out in public. Not everyone understood it and as a child they had made fun of me for speaking the "poor people's" language... The soft-speaking Italians didn't enjoy the sounds of the more "rustic" tongue...

If only they knew that I owned their asses and every damn street in Italia.

Once I had applied my dark lipstick and put my makeup away, I went back to my room, brushed my hair, tied it up in a bun and secured it with my spiked hair-tie, then slung my guitar case across my back. I also draped my headphones over my neck, plugged them into my MP3 player, and clipped it to my jacket. I looked at my alarm clock again. It read 7:45 AM... Shit, where's V? I walked out of my bedroom, picking up my school bag as I passed since it was resting against the wall by the door.

Just as I had began to descend the stairs, I head our doorbell ring. There she was... Before I was able to answer the door, though, my father called out to me from his office.

"Dia, beni ca."

I sighed and made my way there, standing in the doorway. "Ite paret?"

"Are you leaving?"

"Eja. V's here. Why?"

"Can't a father wish to bid his daughter farewell? Or did you become "too cool" for it when you turned seventeen?"

I rolled my eyes a bit, crossing my arms over my chest. "Were you "too cool" for it at seventeen?"

He paused for a moment, his gaze lowering as he tapped on his wooden desk in thought. "I wouldn't venture to say that... I'm more inclined to believe I was too troubled and focused on women."

I made a bit of a face. "Ugh, gross. I don't wanna hear about that, old man."

"Fine, fine. But you asked." He then stood up and gestured for me to come closer. "Humor me for a moment."

I rolled by eyes again and met him where he was, trying to keep up the facade that I wasn't sentimental. When I was within reach, he pulled me against his chest and wrapped me in a hug. For that moment, my act faltered, and I hugged him back, closing my eyes. I was lucky he was affectionate with me now, because he wasn't when I was only a child. He used to be so incredibly cold.

"Bona diada, t'amo..." he said quietly, in a voice that was both naturally rough yet uncharacteristically gentle.

"I will... T'amo. A menzus bìere."

"Adiosu." He patted my back and let me go on my way. "Remember that you're superior to all of those horrible, bothersome peers of yours."

"I always do, Dad." Once I turned away I grinned a bit and left towards the front door.

I finally opened the door to see my familiar, pink-haired friend's big, brown eyes staring up at me. It was funny how short she was...

"Wow! That took longer than usual! I thought you were still asleep!" she exclaimed were her usual cheery, almost childishly whimsical voice.

I stepped out onto the porch with her and shut the door behind me, locking it with my key. "Nah, sorry... Was talking to my dad."

"You ready to go to school?"

"I guess, if I have to be..."

"Oh, come on! It's not so bad! Spring break is almost coming up!"

We walked down the driveway and out into the street, still chatting.

"Hm, guess that's a silver lining..."

"You're always so negative all the time, Boss," she said, grabbing hold of me and hugging me tight.

Typical V, always clinging to me... But I allowed it.

"You say negative, I say realistic," I retorted, patting the top of her head.

Hopefully this would be a day like any other... A day that an heiress blends into a crowd. School is the only place in the world where degenerate, unaccomplished idiot children could bully the future Donna of Passione...

 

-- Chapter End --

🎸🎸🎸

Notes:

These goobers omg

Chapter 11: Assassin Anecdotes: Marsala's Day Out!

Summary:

Marsala has a new person to keep her eyes on...

Marsala's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

People... People everywhere. I hated walking on the streets and sidewalks because my speed was slower than most's, and my crutches sounded so loud on the pavement. It was a nice day out, so that meant there were even more people for me to avoid slowing down, ugh...

But I had been trying to challenge myself to leave my server room more often and interact with the real world... As horrible as that sounds. If I ever want to be confident and expressive enough to one day tell Prosciutto how I feel, I have to learn to enjoy people. It would be hard work, but for him, anything is worth it.

I decided that today I would just window shop at some clothing stores and probably stop for lunch as well as a little reward for my outing. Maybe I'd buy something nice for myself, I don't know...

*

I was hobbling past a clothing store I was disinterested in when I heard a few familiar voices approaching the door from the inside and caught a glimpse of something lilac colored in my peripheral vision. Cazzo! I don't want to be dragged into some more group shenanigans with these people, nor my brother, and I especially don't want to act like an idiot in front of Prosciutto again!

I began to move faster, and though my face was expressionless, my heart was thumping a bit in anticipation. I swear to God if I hear-

"Marsala!" I heard Melone call out to me.

Porca miseria...

I stopped and slowly turned around to see Melone standing beside Althaia, Formaggio, and Illuso... Great, just great. Per l'amor del cielo... This is exactly what I needed. A meeting of idiotas...

"Oh my gosh, it is her! Hi!" Althaia greeted me in a bubbly manner.

"Hello..." I responded in a manner more dry than usual.

I stood in place, making no effort to interact with them, but they all approached me first.

"What are you doing out?" Melone asked.

"Nothing, really... I was just out," I replied.

"Well, we were about to head to lunch. Did you wanna come with us?" Althaia offered.

Illuso refused to look at me. Maybe he was still upset about the first time we met. He needed to get over it. However, it looked like Formaggio had been stuck carrying all the bags the four of them had collected from shopping.

"Yeah, I mean," Formaggio began, "I guess you're kinda like, an honorary member of La Squadra 'cause you're Melone's sister."

"Oh, joy... What a perk," I muttered, glancing around for an excuse to leave.

"Please join us. I'd like to treat you to lunch since you're already out." Melone put his hand on my shoulder, an almost pleading expression on his face.

"If you're not busy, of course," Althaia added.

Wow... They all seemed like the "best of friends"... Perhaps they actually did take my advice and have a conversation with Althaia. I wonder if she knows that they tried to go through her laptop...

Unfortunately for me, all of them but Illuso seemed like they wanted me to tag along, and most unfortunately, I couldn't come up with a convincing excuse not to... Besides, I'll never hear the end of it from my idiot brother if I said no...

"Fine... I'll join you," I huffed.

The group, again, save for Illuso, let out a sort of cheer before leading me along with them. At first, they were too fast for me, but within only a few seconds, Melone slowed down and walked at my speed, almost on instinct. When the others noticed we weren't right behind them, they waited for us to catch up and slowed down too.

I hated slowing people down.

*

When we were brought to the outside patio table of our chosen ristorante, Melone pulled out a chair for me and, despite the fact that I didn't need it, helped me into my seat. And from the look on his face and the way he had been quiet this whole time, it seemed that Illuso wasn't that happy with sitting next to me... What a drama queen. This was childish. I say one thing he doesn't like...

Or maybe it's my lack of expression sabotaging something for me again...

I didn't want to admit it, but listening to them talk and enjoy themselves while we all ate made the time pass quicker. I didn't sit there the whole time wishing I was back in my server room. They even included me and prompted me to tell embarrassing stories about Melone in our childhood... But I feel as though that was redundant because everything he did was embarrassing.

But I didn't mind making him squirm. Besides, he deserved it.

By the end of our meal, Althaia and Melone were in the middle of a back and forth about who should pay.

"Look, not to be rude, but I've got more money. Let me pay for everyone!" Althaia said.

"No, trust me, I've got it. It's not every day that Marsala goes out. Let's count this as a celebration, on me," Melone retorted.

I knew he was just trying to show off in front of me and be a "polite brother"... Tch. Not like I cared...

Eventually Melone mouthed "please" at Althaia, then looked over at me, and she sighed and relented, letting him get up to pay. Althaia and Formaggio busied themselves with lugging their shopping bags to the car down the road and bringing it around for everyone... Unfortunately, I came in my own car so that didn't benefit me much...

So, I was left alone with Illuso, who was still refusing to look at me. It was almost comical how dramatic he was being over nothing. I decided that enough was enough.

"Are you angry with me?" I asked, droning voice and all.

I guess he didn't expect me to talk to him because he seemed almost caught off-guard by my question. He glanced at me with his red eyes, which were nearly hidden by his bangs, but eventually he spoke up in that almost naturally boisterous voice of his.

"Why would you assume that?"

"Hm, because I think I rubbed you the wrong way when we met the other day and until now you've refused to even speak to or look at me."

"Oh, so you're aware of how you come off? Then were you rude on purpose?"

"Seriously?" I couldn't show it, but this was entertaining. "You're actually holding a grudge over my tone?"

He didn't answer.

"Wait, wait, don't tell me... You're upset about the offhand comment I made about you "not getting laid", right? Is that it?"

I watched his brows furrow as he continued to refuse to look at me, and most humorous of all, his cheeks even flushed in color. Hah! I embarrassed a mafioso so bad he blushed! This is hilarious! Of course, you wouldn't know I felt that way if you looked at my face...

"If I could laugh, I would. This is... You're really upset? I didn't mean it literally," I said.

"Then why did you say it?" he huffed.

"You've never had anyone just insult you without exactly knowing you? You are a grown man, right? You do realize that this is childish, I hope."

"Exactly, you don't know me. And if you did, you'd know that I'm pretty vain– I'll admit it. And I've got a certain image of myself that I don't like messed with." He then finally fully faced me. "Especially not some computer nerd that probably doesn't even understand the meaning of 'inflection'!"

After he realized he may have raised his voice a bit too loudly for a ristorante, he settled down again and went back to wearing an annoyed expression. I, however, just watched him, as deadpanned as ever, but inside, I was a mix of irritated, amused, and intrigued... I had read Illuso's files before. I know all the basic information I could need to know about him, but now, he just became a mystery to me. Surely this wasn't the first time someone's absentmindedly insulted him, so why was he so upset with me specifically? Was he embarrassed that a woman challenged his sense of manhood? What a wimp.

"Are you always this easy to piss off?" I finally asked.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, I saw him thinking for a moment before he let out a reply laced with confusion. "No, actually..."

I sighed. "Ah, perfect... So, it's me, then."

"Well, you're probably used to it, right? Pissing people off? I mean, you sound and look inconvenienced at every moment."

I rolled my eyes a bit before looking forward. "It's not on purpose. Trust me, I feel plenty of emotions, and I'd like to express them, but I had a head injury as a kid, and ever since then, I couldn't show my emotions."

I watched regret slowly roll down his face and it almost made me feel a little smug.

"I guess I should apologize, right?" he muttered.

I shrugged. "I don't care either way."

"You're really hard to talk to, but I suppose that isn't exactly your fault."

"Well, sometimes I do mean to be rude. I don't really like people. I don't even know you. I have no reason to be nice."

"Then why haven't you told Althaia that we tried to break into her laptop?"

I thought for a moment before sighing. "It's not for your sake, it's for her's. She's already going to have a hard enough time living with a bunch of idiot men. I don't need to make it worse for her."

"Heh, "idiot men"... So, that's what you already think of us, huh?"

"Why not? You haven't proven me wrong yet."

With that, I stood up, my brows furrowed slightly in effort. My damn legs... I looked around for my crutches, and once I spotted them, I shuffled towards them and reached out, but when I grabbed one, I accidentally knocked over the other and it hit the floor with a metallic clang. I huffed and stared at it for a moment in frustration. Dammit... I hate when this kind of thing happened... Now I'd have to crouch down and get it, which would hurt like hell.

I grit my teeth and prepared myself, gripping my left crutch, but before I could fully bend my knees, Illuso stepped in front of me and picked it up with ease.

I looked up at him and though my expression didn't show it, I was thankful. I held my hand out to take it from him, but he pulled away and wore a shit-eating grin.

"Illuso, what the hell?" I said with the faintest hint of annoyance in my tone.

"If you can manage to give me even the weakest smile, I'll give it to you," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

I didn't have time for games... "You really are an idiot. You're just proving me right."

"C'mon," he prompted in a singsong voice, "give me a smile."

I raised my crutch and smacked it against his shin, and he hissed in pain.

"What the hell? I was joking, God..."

He handed me my other crutch and I quickly attached it to the brace on my forearm. "Then I don't enjoy your since of humor."

"Wow, aren't you a ray of sunshine..."

Despite the shit he was talking, he did push in my chair for me, then helped lead me through the crowded ristorante and out through the exit, holding the door open for me. Melone quickly caught up with us.

"Where were you?" I asked. "That took you forever."

"It's a mad house in there. I waited for five minutes just to pay..." he answered.

"Well, now we're just waiting on Formaggio and Althaia to get back with the car," Illuso said.

Melone continued to go on and on about something boring that I couldn't pay attention to because Illuso was pestering me behind his back. I think he was trying to get a rise out of me so that he could see if I could express any kind of emotion, because he was poking at me. This fastidioso idiota was pushing my buttons, even if it didn't seem like it. While Melone's back was turned, I hit Illuso in the leg with one of my crutches again and I could tell he was about to say something when Melone looked at us. We both stopped what we were doing and acted like nothing had happened, but as soon as Melone turned again, we began silently bickering once more.

What the hell was this guy's problem?!

Just as I was about to hit Illuso again, a car that I recognized from the driveway of their headquarters pulled up next to us. Oh, right... I had to walk to my own car, but my legs were starting to hurt.

The passenger window rolled down and I could see Althaia smiling at the three of us. "Hop in, guys!" she said.

"Oh, my car is down the road a ways. I guess this is where I take o-" I was cut off.

"No, no, do you think I'd leave you all alone after I dragged you around town?" Melone interjected. "We'll drop you off at your car."

"Really?"

"Sure!" Formaggio chimed in. He was behind the wheel, anyway.

I sighed and shrugged. "Alright, why not? Won't hurt me any..."

Melone got into the backseat first, sliding all the way to the right, then Illuso, then me. Great... I'd have to sit next to this asshole the whole time. Of course, he didn't bother me much now that other people were around. Hm... I wonder what his deal was.

"Which road was your car parked on, Marsala?" Formaggio asked.

"Oh, uh... Lungarno Cellini."

"Cool, we'll be there soon."

I sat back and kept my crutches tucked against my left side, near the door, and looked out the window a bit. I could see my reflection in it. I looked as gorgeous as usual, but my face was still so bland... Damn. What I'd give to smile again when I meant it...

Eventually, I glanced up at Illuso, trying to be inconspicuous, but he caught my gaze and wore a bit of a sly, vindictive smirk on his face. I'll teach him to pester me... I reached up a bit and flicked him on the nose, and I watched him flinch before his eyes widened in disbelief. I wanted to laugh at him, be condescending, but I knew I couldn't. I instead reached up to do it again, but he grasped my hand and held it down. There wasn't much room between us, so he sort of placed his hand on my thigh and trapped my hand beneath it. What the hell did he think he was doing??

I could see that he was now refusing to look at me, his cheeks a bit of a pinkish hue again. And despite myself, I think mine were too, but my eye-mask hid it. Who the hell did he think he was?

I had to keep tabs on him when I got back to my computer. He had made himself a person of interest by utterly annoying me. And now he was holding my hand...

No one's done that before.

Despite the fact that I wasn't fighting his grip anymore and we weren't looking at each other, he still kept his hand there, and I let him.

Soon, Formaggio pulled up beside my car and let me out. Before anyone could turn to look at us, Illuso moved his hand. Melone attempted to get out of the car to open the door for me, but I stopped him and told him I could handle it. I used my crutches to pull me up to my feet, then shut the door behind me. Before their car pulled away, though, I saw Illuso meet my eyes once more... What a strange man.

I'd keep my eye on him...

 

-- Chapter End --

🍷🍷🍷

Notes:

Assassin Anecdotes are mini chapters I write for fun but they're still important to the lore, so I'll include them here rather than a separate series.

Chapter 12: Two-Halves of A Whole

Summary:

It's almost like they were destined to be twin souls...

Dia's perspective

Venezia, Italia- 2001

V and I had walked for a few blocks, talking about our studies, what we were going to get for lunch, and what our plans for spring break were, and it seemed like they had aligned.

"So, what do you think you're gonna do during spring break?" V asked me, taking two steps for every one of mine.

I shrugged and kept my eyes forward, walking with a bit of a slouch. "I dunno, probably hang out with you. Plus, whatever my dad has me do."

What my dad would have me do is boring things like paperwork, overseeing the Passione system and editing Member files, and more entertaining things like simple missions. But I did all of that on top of everything else in my "normal" life as well.

"Oh, okay!" she chirped.

V had no idea that I was involved in the mafia at all, much less an heiress... I kept that from her, for her own sake. I couldn't risk losing her nor potentially putting her life on the line. She was just a regular girl... Well, sort of.

She had these issues, like, in her head. She would hear things that weren't there. It started popping up when we were around 13. At first it really worried me, but I eventually accepted that it was just going to be a part of my life if she was in it, which I was okay with. I don't think I could live my life without her. I met her in pre-school, and I've had no desire for any other platonic company outside of her since... And she seems to be perfectly content being up my ass just as much, so, I guess we're both benefiting from the situation.

But these... hallucinations and delusions of hers. I think a doctor would call it schizophrenia, right? I'm no shrink, but it doesn't take a medical degree to know that something is wrong when she starts to have an episode. Fortunately, I've learned how to sort of deal with them as they come and help her. And she was to be taking this new medication that's supposed to help... Hopefully it does.

"Do you think we're going to get a good score on the math exam?" V asked, dragging me out of my inner monologue.

"Hm? Oh, yeah... We'd better. I've studied way too much to get anything lower than a 97%."

"Well, I've been studying too. But it's kind of difficult because I've been-" She suddenly cut herself off, her eyes widening as she looked around frantically. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" I stopped in my tracks and glanced over my shoulder. She was freaking me out.

"There's a phone ringing... But I didn't bring mine with me today!"

Oh, dammit... Not again...

I dug into my school bag and retrieved my flip-phone, a bit of an awkward but concerned expression on my face. "Hey, sorry, it was mine... Just a random number, don't mind it."

I could see her calm down now and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, phew! I had myself worried there for a sec," she said with a bit of a nervous giggle.

I nodded and my expression softened into something calmer and relieved, like I was looking at a little animal. "It's alright..." I took my headphones off of my neck and began playing some music through my MP3 player, then placed them over her ears. "Just listen to some music. I put on the stuff you like..."

She smiled softly and continued walking contentedly, and I slowly nudged her hand with mine. She understood the cue and joined hands with me, our fingers intertwined. Despite the strange feeling in my chest, I had a tactical reason for doing this. Should any incoming traffic approach that she couldn't hear over the music, I could yank her out of the way. That, and... I believed I was a cruel person due to my occupation and the things I've done but...

For the moments that I'm with her, she tames me, and I'm as gentle as the spring breeze... She makes me forget how terrible I am.

We were only about two minutes away from the school gates when V slipped the headphones off and looked up at me. The sweet look in her amber, doe eyes made me subconsciously squeeze her hand tighter.

"Are you ever going to play me a song on the guitar? You said you would," she remarked.

I looked away for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. I wasn't the type to make excuses but... "I-I dunno... How long ago did I promise you that?"

"Two years ago."

I grimaced a bit. "God, really? Ugh, I suck..." I sighed and shrugged. "Alright, uh... fine. Fine, I'll play you a song."

"Can you sing too?"

I felt my cheeks grow hotter the more she requested from me. "I- Maybe... I guess. I don't know..."

"Could you do Wonderwall?"

A love song? I-... My mind began to run other places, my imagination getting the best of me, but I quickly snagged my thoughts and shoved them out of my mind in order to answer her.

"I... suppose I could do that... for you."

She cheered and hugged my arm as we walked, now going on and on about something else. Meanwhile, I was still trying to recover. I had been having odd thoughts and feelings recently that I didn't quite know how to explain... La Festa Degli Innamorati had come and passed, and I suppose my superior mind was flooded with frivolous teenage desires and machinations. Soon, I'd find a way to destroy those thoughts and cure myself of these delusions of the heart. Someone such as myself should be above these things, and like every other time, I'd rise against my obstacles and crush them beneath my feet.

Look at me... I sound like my father...

I actively shook my head to clear the ramblings in my mind. I had to behave like an average teenage girl. I couldn't have that talk, at least for right now, but V watched me do that and spoke with a hint of worry in her voice as we passed through the school entrance gates.

"You okay, Boss?"

I glanced down at her before nodding and sighing. "I'm fine... Just shaking some remaining sleepiness out of my mind is all."

She called me 'Boss' due to my tendency to be a bit authoritative and bossy... I had told her to stop, but she kept on for years, and now I don't mind it. It's just part of who we are.

When we entered the bustling, alive school building and began walking down the locker-lined hallways, there were students in every direction. Headed past my shoulder, across my path, standing off to the side, behind me, so many conversations. It was everything I could do to stay present in the moment and not remember every horrible thought I had ever had about these scum. I hated everyone in this building for the things they had done to me, for the ways their eyes devoured me. I felt a creeping sensation go up my neck. A crawling sensation on my skin beneath my clothes. It only got worse the longer I walked in the hallway. For a moment, the entire room was drowned out, and all I could sense were people's eyes on me. Eyes on me watching everything I did, judging every step I took, witnessing every time my bottom lip twitched with mild panic. Even the subtle way in which my nostrils flared as my breaths began to get more and more ragged. Eyes, everywhere. All on me. Knowing me, preying on me, they were eating me alive! I had to get out of here! I had to-

A deliberate squeezing sensation on my arm brought the color back into the room and my heart began to slow. I looked down to find the source of it, and it was V, still clinging to me. She wore such a soft, kind, understanding expression that it made me want to throw up from how warm it made me feel. How dare she make me feel weak in a way that I enjoyed!

"Hey, nobody's looking at you, okay? It's alright," she whispered in a soothing voice.

I swallowed thickly and nodded, my breaths beginning to return to normal. "M-mhm, right..." I looked up and saw that no one was even paying me any attention. Hm... Maybe I was just paranoid. "You're right. I'm okay, don't worry about me..."

She patted my arm, then let go of it once we reached our lockers. "Well, I'm always gonna worry, just like you worry about me. That's what friends do."

Despite myself, that brought a bit of a smile to my face, but I tried to focus on opening my locker. "I can't argue with your logic, I guess..."

We pulled out whatever books and supplies we'd need for our first few classes, then put our school bags in our lockers and shut them.

"I'll see you later, okay?" V said.

I nodded, and I was about to leave, but the wire to my headphones jerked on my MP3 player, which was still attached to my lapel. I turned back around to face her and she laughed a bit, then slipped my headphones off of her neck and handed them back to me.

"Oops! Almost took you along with me!" she teased.

"I wouldn't mind following you anywhere you went..." I muttered without much thought. When I realized what had just come out of my mouth, I felt my chest tighten again and my mouth go dry. I'm such a fool! "Well, y'know-"

She simply pulled me into a hug, and it was almost ridiculous how much I towered over her. I was unsure of what to do for a moment before my faulty, yet still superior mind remembered that I was supposed to hug her back, so that's what I did.

"I'll see you at lunch, Boss," she said before pulling away.

"Yeah, see ya..." I replied in a voice weaker than usual. I was so incredibly frustrated with myself.

I watched her walk down the adjacent hallway, heading towards her first class of the day, and I had to bring myself back into focus.

She has no idea what she does to me, and I don't either...

 

-- Chapter End --

🎸🎸🎸

Notes:

Doomed yuri lmao

Chapter 13: Vinyl Dreams

Summary:

Older siblings aren't always perfect... Still doesn't mean you don't miss them when they're gone, though.

Chiara's perspective

Milano, Italia- 2001

 

I loved looking over my older brother's record collection. I was only tall enough to barely reach the top of the stack, but after a little jump, I slid the most played vinyl towards me: Metallica's 'Master of Puppets'. I held the case to my chest and quickly snuck back into my room, then carefully placed it onto my record player. I sat in front of it and listened to the rock orchestral arrangement that was this album, my short, choppy white hair swaying a bit as I bobbed with the music.

My brother was my hero, and I wanted to love what he loved. Because I loved him, even if he was big, scary, kind of mean, and wore a lot of dark clothing and spikes.

I was about five songs into the album when I heard the door to the house open and heavy, booted footsteps march towards my closed room door.

"Chiara? Chiara!" I heard my brother yell from the other side of my door.

My heart halted in my little chest, and I quickly stopped the record and slid it back into its case right before he busted through the door.

"What the hell?! Did you go through my room again?! Why do you always do shit like that, you little brat?! Stay out of my room!" He stomped towards me and snatched the vinyl out of my hands, his dark, piercing eyes fixed on me with an intense pit of fiery anger in them.

I didn't know what to say but I tried to muster up something, rising to my feet and balling my hands into fists. "I was being careful! I just wanted to listen to it!" I tried to stand my ground, but my voice was so small compared to his.

He leaned down, and though he wasn't extremely rough, he still grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and got in my face, his voice a low growl. "I don't care what you 'wanted' to do. Stay out of my room. Stop touching my stuff. Stop bothering me! Stay out of my life!"

He must have seen the way my big eyes widened at my lips quivered when he said that, because he let go of me and his expression softened into something more akin to regret. But instead of apologizing, he just groaned in frustration and stormed out of my room, slamming his own bedroom door shut and taking the record with him. I rushed out of my room and into the hallway, standing outside of his door and staring up at it.

And I was crying.

And suddenly I wasn't ten years old anymore, but I was fourteen and his room had been abandoned and boarded up for three years. I was choking on tears and asking if he left because of me.

I didn't have to stay out of his life because he stayed out of mine.

Suddenly I woke up, shooting up in bed with a thin veil of cold sweat across my forehead. My chest was heaving, and my short hair was sticking up in all directions. I brought my hand to my face, just to make sure I felt real. Dammit... Another dream.

My attention was pulled away from my receding panic by a gentle touch on my hand. I looked down to see a bare-faced Abbiati looking up at me through half-seeing, squinted eyes.

"Chiara, are you alright?" she mumbled.

Right, I had forgotten we were sharing a bed for the time being until we figured out a more suitable sleeping arrangement now that Stella was staying here. I sighed and nodded slightly, rubbing my eyes.

"Yes, I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep... Forgive me."

She took a deep breath before sitting up with me. She always looked so gentle without all of her dark makeup. It would have made me smile if I wasn't still reeling from the memories my brain had enjoyed torturing me with for nearly my whole life.

"You don't have to apologize. What happened? Was it another one of your nightmares?" Abbiati continued to squint at me, probably to see me better.

"Yes... Unfortunately. I don't think they'll go away until I find him."

"You'll find him. It's only a matter of time."

I glanced over at her, and despite the troubling thoughts in my head, my face was as calm as ever. "You're so sure of everything."

"I have a mind to make good on my words."

"Maybe you should have been Capo instead," I said with a chuckle.

"Trust me," she began with a sigh, "I had a chance to continue living large in Passione, but I don't want that life anymore. I'd much rather you do the heavy lifting." It was rare to see, but she even smiled a bit when she met my eyes again.

This woman was something else... I didn't know how to describe it. In fact, I don't quite understand how to name or describe most of my emotions. All I could explain it as is that she made me feel like I was home. She's my right-hand for a reason.

"Then trust me when I say that I would carry any amount of weight for you, Mora," I said, shifting to face her now.

She looked down at her hands, a small smile spreading across her lips. "Do you realize how you're coming off right now?"

I paused for a moment, trying to blink away my confusion. "Um... No."

"You sound romantic."

I cleared my throat and ran my fingers through my hair. "I only meant to be honest."

"I know that."

"Are you disappointed that I wasn't intending to be romantic?"

"Not quite. It was a nice enough sentiment on its own."

"Hm, I see..."

"Chiara."

"Yes?"

"You're a Capo now. You can access members of the famiglia you once couldn't. There has to be someone here who has access to some form of an information log for members, in some capacity. I think your next step is to find that person. They will lead you to him."

I mulled over her words for a second. She did have a point. The information I was going off of to find Risotto was something I got years ago, and the only confirmation I had was that he was most likely part of Passione. But there has to be someone here who knows the truth. No matter how confidential and classified everything is, no one can become a complete ghost, right? They have to exist in some capacity, on some chunk of data...

"You're right. As always," I said in a pensive manner. "I'll change my course of action. But this will again have to be a back-burner mission for me."

"The answers are out there somewhere. And if you have days where you need to focus on this rather than your duties with the team, you know that I'm always ready to step up to the task, don't you?"

"Yes, absolutely. You've never failed me..." She had already been doing so much for me, so I knew this could potentially be asking for too much, but I spoke anyway. "Could I... venture to ask for your help in a more direct way on this, though?"

She raised a brow. "I'm listening."

"With your knowledge and expertise, and your ability to manipulate the human body, your skillset could be invaluable to me once I get closer to tracking down an informant. Could I trust you to come along with me when the time comes?"

She let out a little amused huff before nodding. I knew that even when she showed emotion, it was always so muted and sober, but I honestly liked that. Being around her when she was off duty felt like having a purring black cat nestled in my lap. Her stillness kept me grounded.

"Of course you can," she finally answered. "I would be remiss if I didn't help."

I smiled and nodded, then laid back down, the cold air in the house finally getting to me since I was wearing a tank top. I opened my arms and gestured for her to come closer. "Veni ca."

She lowered herself against me and rested on my chest, crossing her calf over mine under the bedspread. I wrapped my arms around her and finally closed my eyes again. I had less trouble with those dreams when I had something to hold onto.

"Thank you for staying up with me," I whispered.

"Di niente."

With that, we fell into a somnolent silence only broken by our gentle, shallow breathing.

It wasn't often that I got to see Abbiati in the early hours of the morning, and when I did, it was usually mission related. I always seized the opportunity to show her that I appreciated her when I could... Aside from cooking for her, buying her gifts, venturing to the store when she mentions wanting something, and always carrying a cloth on me in case she needs to clean her glasses. But she only deserved the best.

Perhaps this is what people would describe as romance that I only see as loyalty and devotion, but... I would be a dutiful hound at her feet, awaiting her beck and call if it meant that she'd spend the rest of her life with me. I would lay down my life for her if it meant that she would kill for me, and I would kill for her should anyone blatantly disrespect her.

I had spent my life since 16 years of age with blood on my hands and the stains did not faze me once. I would gladly paint myself red again if it was for someone I cared about. I have no reservations against it, and I didn't hold it against my dignity.

But right now, with her in my arms, I was not a doomed spawn of hell but a sinner seeking deliverance in the house of God. She turned my blood into wine and my heart was made drunk by her mere presence. When her name passed over my lips, I said it with the same reverence as a hymn. I assume that's why she didn't mind that I didn't address her by 'Ms.'...

But for now, she was back to sleep on my chest, her head rising and falling slowly with my breaths. The worries that plagued me were for tomorrow. This early morning, I'd follow in her footsteps and go back to sleep as well.

 

*

 

By about 9 AM, I was woken up by the sounds of my team about my house. I took a sharp breath and stretched a bit with my arms above my head, arching my back. I then turned over, expecting to see the pleasant form of my raven-haired companion, however, my bed was empty. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, then put out my house shoes and left my room.

I was immediately greeted by the sight of Gia in his lounge clothes. He was already wearing his mask, though. I smiled a bit and nodded to him.

"Bon jornu, Gia. Did you sleep well?" I greeted.

"I did," he replied in his deep voice. "How about you?"

"Hm, about the same as usual."

We began to walk down the stairs.

"Are there any assignments for today?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, nothing for you all. I have my own matters to tend to, though. Abbiati will be in charge for the day."

"Hm."

Once we got to the bottom of the stairs, I pulled him aside and spoke to him in a low voice. "Keep an eye on Dante for me, okay? I believe he and Stella are down a troubled road."

He raised a brow at me. "How so?"

"His... prickly nature is getting the best of him."

"I see... I'll talk to him."

"Thank you."

Elektra came from around the corner with a big smile on her face, glasses on per usual and already in a coordinated outfit. "Buongiorno, Chia! How are ya?"

"Good, good. And I assume you're well."

"As always!" She pulled me into a hug and 'air-kissed' my cheek, as usual. I smiled a bit and patted her back. She was a kind soul.

"Is Stella awake yet?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah! I made her breakfast already, she's good to go."

"Bonu. I appreciate you taking care of her."

"Of course!"

Gia and Elektra went on their way, and as I approached the couch, Dante lumbered over, wearing a dark tank top and baggy lounge pants. He looked as grumpy as he usually did in the morning.

"Hm, did you sleep well, Picciriddu?" I teased.

"I guess," he mumbled. "That stray cat you picked up is such a sad sack. She looks like she's moments away from bursting into tears at any moment. It's annoying to look at."

"You mean Stella?"

"Yeah. 'Course I do."

"Dante, I recall teaching you more manners than that. And so what? You were quite the sad "stray cat" when I picked you up."

He got quiet for a moment before grumbling, "Yeah, but I manned up. She needs to learn. The sooner the better."

"Sounds like you're jealous of the attention she's getting," I remarked, sitting on the couch and picking up the fresh newspaper on the coffee table.

His expression dropped for a moment before his nose wrinkled and he protested. "Am not! Why would I have any reason to be jealous, huh? I think your mind is failing you in your old age."

I rolled my dark eyes before speaking in a dry manner. "Go get me some coffee, Camurrìa."

He muttered something under his breath before stomping away. "Yeah, yeah, I already made it."

I hummed with amusement at his attitude before crossing my legs and opening the newspaper. I wondered what my brother was doing right now... Did he read the paper in the morning too? Did he like his coffee black like I did? Was he sharing his life with someone like I was? I needed answers...

And I intended to get them.

 

-- Chapter End --

🎪🎪🎪

Notes:

Religious imagery as a metaphor for all-consuming devotion my beloved

Chapter 14: Doctor's Orders

Summary:

Althaia is getting closer to everyone, but there's still one grumpy soul in the house she's yet to crack.

Althaia's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

Two weeks into living with these guys and I had already memorized their schedules. And, since they were all quirky men of... loud personalities, I had gotten to know a lot of their habits as well. They didn't seem awkward around me, except for Pesci, but I've been told that's how he always is. And the only one I truly hadn't gotten a good read on yet was Risotto. He was a big, grouchy, lumbering, tired man dressed in all black that, had I met him in high school, I would have gone crazy for.

Let's just say I had a bit of a thing for dark, broody wallflower types, though, I wasn't allowed to date.

Hah! Moving on...

I had made it a goal of mine to get closer to him, to learn what I could about him... Prosciutto told me that I needed to find someone who would effectively be my "mentor", so why not learn from the best, so to speak? Because that's what I had always strived for all my life: to be the best.

So, I decided to make some muffins in order to butter him up– a little bit with chocolate, some with fruit, some with cinnamon, some plain... I didn't know what he liked, but deep down in my heart, I had a feeling that no matter how tough he was, he really liked sweets. Most people liked sweets, so... not really a novel thought, heh...

I was in the middle of taking a fresh batch of muffins out of the oven and putting a tray of unbaked ones in when Formaggio came from out of nowhere. Actually, it was eerie... I didn't hear him coming and it's like he literally popped up out of nowhere.

"Whatcha makin'?" he asked, trying to seem innocuous, though I could see the way he was eyeing the muffins.

"What does it look like?"

"Looks like food... Food that I like."

I closed the oven and huffed, taking off my oven mitts and looking up at him. "You just came in here sniffing around for sweets. Where the hell did you even come from, anyway?"

He grinned slyly and shrugged. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

I shook my head at him and turned away to grab a plate from the cupboard, but before I could even close it I heard him let out a frantic "ah-ha!" and a hiss of pain. I turned around slowly and raised a brow at him, hands on my hips. The man looked like a scolded dog and had his finger pressed to his lip.

"Did you try to grab a muffin?" I asked with a knowing, fed-up tone.

"...No."

I lunged forward and seized his hand, touching where I suspected he burned himself and he recoiled immediately with a bit of a yelp.

"Hey, hey, the hell're you doing, ya crazy woman?" he cried out, though I know it was mostly a joke.

"So, you didn't burn yourself?" I grinned a bit, tugging his arm back and pulling him towards me.

"I won't touch 'em again, just go easy on me!"

I dragged him towards the sink, then turned on the faucet and set the water to cold, putting his hand under it.

He stopped fighting me and his expression relaxed as he looked down at me. "Just water? I thought I was done for."

"Everyone knows to put their hand under cold water if they burn it."

"Right..." He then looked back at the muffins. "Can I have one? Y'know, since I burned myself and now I'm owed compensation..."

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest, but I had every intention of giving him one once I had given him a hard time. "You watched me take them out of the oven! You knew they were hot!"

"Hmph, I'm a mafioso. Something like a muffin couldn't take me out."

"Yet it did..."

He chuckled a bit before turning off the water and drying his hand. "So, why're ya baking anyway? Just 'cause, or?"

"I'm making these for Risotto. I wanna try to get on his good side like I've gotten on all of yours."

"And in record time too. Congrats." He hopped backward a bit and sat on the counter.

"Hah! Thanks..." I then sighed. "But he's a stubborn one. I think he hates me."

"Nah, he doesn't hate you. If he did, you'd really know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Besides, he's always pretty aloof and reclusive. He just likes his alone time and we're all pretty rowdy. But if you can show him that you can be calm, he might warm up to ya. That's why he hangs out with Prosciutto so much."

I thought over his words for a moment before plating one of the muffins and handing it to him. "Right, okay... But I'm not exactly super calm... I'm a pretty active, in-your-face, always-on-the-go type of person..."

"Well, fake it till ya make it, right?" He said with a mouth full of food.

"Prosciutto told me that I need to find someone to be my 'mentor'... I was thinking if I get in good with him, I could learn from him."

"Or you could learn from me."

I met his gaze and raised a brow at him, a bit surprised, though I guess I shouldn't be. He was pretty friendly.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he drawled out, "stick with me, kid, 'nd I'll teach ya the ropes."

I grinned a bit and placed my hands on my hips. "Y'sure this isn't a way to get more desserts outta me?"

He laughed a bit and set his empty plate in the sink before sliding off the counter. "Hey, I won't turn it down, is all I'm sayin'." He then rolled his eyes a bit and spoke with a more resentful voice. "The guys say my Stand is the most useless one outta the group but they're dead wrong. They just don't see the potential that I do. And I'll show you everything I know."

I smiled softly and nodded. "Thanks, Formaggio."

"No problem, Green. And hey, I think you should still try to get on Risotto's good side, for what it's worth."

"Planned on it." I then hugged him, which I'm sure he didn't expect, but he patted my back anyway.

"Ya got a tendency to just kinda hang on people or give them affection in passing, ya know that? Kinda reminds me of my cat."

I pulled away and gasped a bit. "You have a cat?!"

"Yeah! I've always liked keeping a pet. She's back at my place in Fiesole."

I paused for a moment before speaking in a confused manner. "Wait, if you're here, who's taking care of her...?"

"Oh, my wife is," he said nonchalantly.

I thought my eyes would bulge out of my skull. This guy is married?! What?! However, his almost did too, and he covered his mouth in shock. As I was about to speak, he covered mine too.

"I didn't– you aren't supposed to know that," he rattled off, his voice muffled.

I pulled his hand away and cooed in a quiet tone. "Oh my gosh... That's amazing. For how long?"

"Five years, but she's been in my life since high school." After rushing out that sentence, he gestured frantically before leaning down to my level and speaking in a hushed manner. "Alright? But this has gotta be our little secret. No one else knows but you. Can I trust ya, Green?"

"Yeah, sure," I responded in the same low voice, "but why are you hiding it?"

"'Cause I... I don't want anyone knowin' I have a wife. I don't want her getting roped up into something dangerous just 'cause I am."

I looked down at his left hand before grasping it and running my thumb over the indentation on his ring finger... Yep, he definitely wears a ring when he isn't here.

"Where's your ring now?" I whispered.

"Huh?"

"I can tell you wear one. Where is it?"

"Oh... My pocket..."

I grinned a little and let go, trying to be quiet but nearly gushing. "What's her name?"

He sighed heavily before standing up straight again. "Alex..."

"Well, you and Alex's secret is safe with me."

"Good, good... I'm puttin' a lotta faith in ya, Green. Be a woman of your word."

I nodded and sort of saluted playfully. "Will do."

"Atta girl. Now go bother Risotto." He nodded his head towards the direction of Risotto's office.

 

*

 

I knocked on the door of Risotto's office after plating a few muffins and instructing Formaggio to take the currently baking pan out of the oven once the timer rang. It took a few seconds, but as soon as I heard his voice say, "come in", I did. He looked up from his paperwork to see who it was entering, but when he recognized that it was me, his expression dropped.

"What do you want, Belladonna?" He asked in his resonant voice. He then raised a brow at the plate in my hand and gestured to it with his pen. "Why do you have that?"

"It's for you," I replied in a harmonic manner, setting the plate down on his desk.

He glowered at me, tapping his pen on his desk impatiently. I sat down in the chair in front of his desk and huffed.

"Oh, why are you such a grouch all the time? Who gets mad about muffins?"

"I'll get mad about whatever I please. You're bothering me while I'm working..."

"Come on, you're always working. Take a five-minute break and eat!"

He nudged the plate out of the way and went back to his paperwork. "No. I'm busy. And you don't get to tell me what to do."

"You're gonna give yourself an ulcer, carrying on like this."

He looked up from what he was doing and met my eyes now. "Excuse me?"

"Stress can worsen preexisting symptoms that cause ulcers." I shrugged and leaned back in the chair a bit.

"What goes on in my body is my business," he said bitterly, looking back down again.

He looked paler than usual today, which seemed hard to do considering his complexion... And the bags under his eyes were worse. In the back of my mind, whenever I looked at a person, I was always looking for symptoms. I knew he'd refuse to give me a straight answer, but I was the medic here for a reason.

"When's the last time you got some good sleep?" I asked in a gentle tone, leaning forward a bit with a softened expression.

He definitely wasn't expecting me to ask this. I could see it in the way his guard dropped, and he looked up at me like I just cursed at him.

"What...?" he responded in a voice so small it almost rattled me.

"When's the last time you really rested and got a full eight hours of sleep?"

He lowered his gaze and wore a scowl. "Why are you asking me this?"

"You look pale and the bags under your eyes have gotten worse since I met you."

"What? Are you studying me or something?"

"No, it just doesn't take a genius to notice it..."

"I'm not stupid. I know what lack of sleep does to someone."

"Then why does it seem like you haven't gotten any?"

There was a pause before he grumbled a bit and pointed to the door, holding his head with his other hand like it was in pain. "Get out. You're bothering me."

"Risotto, I-"

He stood up and pointed to the door again, his voice more forceful this time. "Out!"

He was about to say something else when I watched his tall frame sway and falter a bit until he fell back into his chair, his nose furled in frustration. He was breathing in a sort of ragged manner behind clenched teeth. I jumped out of my seat and rushed to his side, my face awash with concern and my voice dripping with it.

"Risotto! Are you alright?" I leaned down and held one of his wrists with my hand and placed the other on his shoulder.

He kept his eyes closed and was silent for a moment before he got angry with me again and swatted my hands away, trying to stand up. "I'm fine. Leave like I told you to."

He, again, staggered, but this time he stumbled forward and I'm the one who caught him, I supposed by instinct. He was so tall, but I was strong, and I didn't fear dropping him. He sort of slumped into my arms, his own at his side and his chin over my shoulder. I was silent the whole time. I didn't need to rub it in his face. Something was clearly wrong. He was sick. I think he had actually lost consciousness for a few seconds.

I held him close to me, keeping one arm around his back and my free hand on the back of his head. He stopped fighting me by this point, so I carefully lowered him to the ground and leaned him against his desk. When I pulled away and finally saw his face, he avoided eye contact with me and seemed ashamed... I sighed and pressed my fingers to his neck, checking his pulse.

"I'm fine..." he muttered in a rough voice. I could tell he didn't believe it either, though.

"No, you're not. Don't make this a whole 'ego' thing." I then pulled my hand away. "Elevated pulse, pale skin..." I mumbled to myself.

I grasped his hand and felt that his palm was clammy. I then grabbed his face, which he flinched at and grimaced at me for. He nearly growled and shoved my hand away when I gently tugged his lower eyelid down to check it. God, I couldn't get over his freaky eyes... I had never seen this before in all my years. I just wanted to stare into them long enough to figure out what made them this way...

"Clammy hands, cold to the touch, pale eyelids..." I muttered again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I ignored his question and shot him one of my own. "When's the last time you ate?"

He couldn't answer me, which was actually answer enough.

"Risotto, you're sleep-deprived, hungry, dehydrated, and show signs of anemia..."

"I already know I'm anemic."

"What?"

"Yeah... I've been that was since I was a kid. But I've taken medicine for it for years..."

"When's the last time you took that medicine?"

He, again, did not answer me.

"Risotto! This is why you're fainting and look like hell! Go take your medicine!"

"Stop it! I'm not going to be told what to do by some brand-new recruit who thinks she can just dress up, play doctor, and order me around!"

"I'm not "playing doctor"! I am one!"

My expression was stern, and I let out a huff after I shouted at him, and his brows furrowed a bit in confusion, his voice smaller.

"You're a doctor?"

"Yes, Risotto. A medical doctor! I have a doctorate!"

He looked down for a moment, this time in thought. "I still don't want you telling me what to do..."

I grabbed him by his collar and pulled him closer to me, speaking in a no-compromises, grave tone. "I am this team's medic, which means your health is my number one concern. I am going to tell you what to do and there's not a single thing you can do about it."

I had never seen his eyes get so wide yet in the two weeks I've known him. I've never seen him look so surprised and vulnerable. So expressive. But I wouldn't hesitate. I knew I was right.

"Why don't I talk to you like a mafioso? Maybe that'll get through that ego of yours..." I gripped his chin and held his head in place so he couldn't look away from me, my nose almost brushing against his. "Stop fighting me on every little thing I say and do just because you're missing something in your life. I'm not your enemy. I'm going to tell you what to do if you can't manage to take care of yourself. Now, go take your medicine or I'll force it down your damn throat."

He had no words to respond to me with, and his eyes- red irises swimming in a dark sea of sclerae- held a strange energy in them that I couldn't decipher, but I could tell with the finger that was pressed to the skin below his jaw that his heart was beating out of his chest. I usually hated to be so rough, but I wanted to crush his attitude, so he learned his place with me– that I wasn't as weak as he believed me to be.

"You're braver than you should be," he finally said, his words breathy and barely above a whisper. "I could kill you. You live in a house full of murderers and you treat us like we're as harmless as pets. Why?"

I loosened my grip on his collar. "Because I'm covered in blood too." I left it at that. It was my own business, and he hadn't earned the story behind it yet.

I saw his forehead wrinkle in realization, but I didn't give him a chance to respond before I acted next. My expression relaxed a bit, and I smirked slightly.

"And I know you won't kill me. You're scary but you're no threat to me."

I then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, still holding his jaw and letting my lips linger there for as long as it took to be sure my green lipstick stained. When I pulled back with a bit of a smile and saw how tensed up and flushed he was, I couldn't help but feel smug. Hah! He looked so dopey... He thinks he's so mysterious, but I've got him figured out now. He's just a stoic guy who needs some attention is all.

I stood up and offered my gloved hand to him, my voice as playful as ever. "Now, let's go get that medicine of yours."

He stayed still for a moment before making a bit of a face and taking my hand, uttering under his breath:

"Doctor's orders..."

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

I am going to frustrate you all with this ship so badly I apologize in advance :(

Chapter 15: Sticky Situation

Summary:

Even tough girls get bested every once in a while...

Alex's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

Right, 'Maggie was off for work again so I was left here by my lonesome with our cat, Sweety-Baby. The name was kinda corny. Just as corny as the man who picked it... But he loved the way the phrase sounded in English, so he picked it. 'Nd, well, he's happy with it, so I'll hold my tongue. I could be bitchy, but I wasn't a total bitch.

When 'Maggie was gone, I was left 'ta my own devices, fending for myself with whatever money we had. I'd say we lived comfortably, but I definitely felt that familiar financial strain from time-to-time.

But I was startin' 'ta find a quick fix for that!

I'd returned 'ta– some –'a my vices 'nd started nickin' clueless blokes who're a lil' too loose with their cash. Or whoever was too much of a pansy 'nd coughed up their cash when I pressed 'em in an alley. But I didn't target kids, nor old folk, nor parents with their kids, nor lone women.

I mostly stole from men, but I justified it as a middle finger 'ta the patriarchy. 'Sides, I hated most of 'em with all my guts... Actually, I hated every man but 'Maggie. On principle. 'Cause every man besides 'im had done me so fuckin' dirty.

I was adorned in my usual attire, 'nd I was ready 'ta take 'ta the streets again, but this time, I brought my handy baseball bat. Just like old times... This baby's been with me through it all.

I left through the front door 'nd locked it behind me, a confident smirk on my warm-sienna-toned face. As I walked down the stairs 'ta reach the entrance way 'a our apartment, I let my bat drag against the metal railing, a rapid chime reverberating from the structure. Once I reached the exit door, I pushed it open 'nd took a stark whiff of that sweet, springy Italian air. Ah! Smelled like idiot tourist season...

I'd make quick work 'a the pricks...

 

*

 

I slammed some punk-ass loser tourist against the brick wall of an alley off the side of a business street, one hand grippin' 'is collar 'nd the other on the handle 'a my bat, pressin' it to 'is gut. He was whimperin' 'nd shakin', tryin' 'ta speak broken Italian through fumbled, poorly translated "traveler's" vocabulary. This was the easy prey I liked.

"I speak English, smart guy. Now, gimme your cash 'nd this'll be smooth sailin' for ya," I instructed, drivin' the bat into 'is stomach further.

"O–okay, okay, okay! I'll do whatever you say! Just please, don't hurt me!" he whimpered 'fore diggin' into 'is back pocket, passin' me 'is wallet with tremblin' hands.

I filed through it with a keen eye, stuffin' every Lira he had into my bustier top 'nd tossin' 'is wallet aside.

"Now, get outta here." I motioned to the entrance 'a the alley with my head. "You speak a word 'bout this 'ta anyone 'nd I'll find you and kill you. I read your address on your ID."

The man nodded fervently, a snivelin', jitterin' mess. I soon let 'im go 'nd watched 'im scamper towards 'is wallet 'fore snatchin' it up 'nd fleeing. Too easy... 'Course, I never had any intention 'a followin' up on my threat. It's just for good measure.

I sighed with satisfaction 'fore pullin' the cash out from between my breasts 'nd countin' it. My victory was cut short, however, when I heard slow, condescending clappin' from a few meters behind me.

"Bravissimo, lady. Not bad, not bad at all!" A sly, scratchy voice called out 'ta me.

I immediately bristled up like a cornered dog 'nd slowly turned 'round, already on high alert. I could smell bad news from a mile away. I had intuition that'd put a fortune teller 'ta shame. 'Nd this reeked 'a trouble.

Two women stood on the opposite end 'a the alleyway: a well-dressed, smug one with wild orange hair 'nd a taller, broader, more menacin' lookin' one with short, dark hair 'nd a mean-mug to match the muscles. Damn... No good...

"Stay the hell away from me," I growled, already brandishin' my bat 'nd tuckin' the money back in my shirt.

The fire-haired one gestured with her hands out in fronta her, as if 'ta soothe me. "Woah, woah, stand down. I meant well by my comment. Is that how you pay thanks to a stranger?"

I was already pissed off by the way she talked. "I'm not stupid. You want somethin' from me, so spit it out!"

The redhead grinned a bit, goin' over me with her auburn eyes. "You've got good instincts; I'll give you that..."

The women began comin' closer 'nd I readied myself 'ta stand my ground.

"Y'see, I like where your head is at. You're obviously real good at getting money from these half-brained tourists. But we got a problem... That money you've got there belongs to us." She gestured 'ta her 'nd the woman behind her. "You're running game on our turf. Passione turf. And I don't take very kindly to trespassers."

I bared my teeth 'nd readied my hold on my bat. "You ain't gettin' shit from me, thug."

"Oh, but I will," she cooed with a snicker. "I always get mine. So, I'll give you two options, Brit. Either fork over the cash and be on your merry way, or me and my friend here'll have to rough you up a bit, alright?"

Damn... I was in a tight spot. I needed the money, but I also couldn't risk gettin' offed by two mafiosi 'nd leave 'Maggie 'nd the cat without me. My moment's hesitation was apparently the final straw, though, 'cause she didn't wait for an answer.

"Silence is refusal, idiota! I thought you were more quick-witted than that!" the woman shouted, pointin' at me.

Great... Just what I wanted... Least I'll get 'ta knock some douchebags 'round.

I was ready for a quick skirmish, but I shoulda known better, dealin' with two Passione goons. From behind the fiery woman emerged an even more orange Stand, fists at the ready. I wasn't expectin' this, 'nd I had no time 'ta react. A bat wasn't gonna save my ass at all.

The Stand lunged towards me, 'nd in an instant, I was thrown into the brick wall I had just pressed that tourist against. I snarled 'nd tried 'ta fight against it, but– Ow, ow! Shit! What the hell?!

I was stuck 'ta the wall! I mean, really stuck! Like a mouse in a glue trap! And my skin burned like hell! What... was this...?

I tried 'ta pull my head forward, but I could feel my hair bein' tugged with a searin' pain, like it was 'bouta be yanked out. Every part 'a me that was touchin' the wall was stayin' put!

"Oh, so you can see my Misery Business?" the woman asked, comin' closer 'ta me now that she knew I was defenseless. "Well, this just makes this whole thing all the more delicious..."

"Eat shit 'nd die, chutiya!" I spat in the woman's face. My own Stand manifested, a ghostly, clawed appendage shootin' outta my chest 'nd latchin' onto the woman's throat.

She's done for!

As the pressure 'a my Stand's grip increased, I watched the woman's face become drenched in mild panic as she choked on air. The only thing she could do was call out 'ta her attack dog that stood beside her.

"What the– fuck!" she coughed. "Bistecca! Ora!"

A large, oddly-shaped almost gauntlet-lookin' thing enveloped the larger woman's arm, 'nd all I remember next was her rearin' her fist up 'fore–

Lights out...

 

*

 

My eyes wearily opened slowly, 'nd my vision was hazy 'nd blurred. All I could register is that my head was hung 'nd it hurt like hell... I groaned softly 'nd tried 'ta bring my hands forward 'ta feel for a wound, but there was a resistance. My hands were bound by somethin'... Behind the back of a chair, I guessed. My mouth was incredibly dry 'nd the room 'round me was dimly lit.

"This is a pretty little ring... You married?" I heard a familiar voice ask, almost echoin' off the darkness in the room.

My achin' head shot up now 'nd my eyes were met with the sight of the fire-haired woman from before. She was sittin' on an odd nook in the wall closest 'ta me, a vindictive smirk on her lips. I had 'ta squint in order 'ta focus my eyes, but I could see her flippin' my wedding ring between her fingers.

"The hell...?" I croaked, my throat sore. "Is that my–? Hey! Give that back! I'll tear you apart!"

"Who's the lucky fella, huh?" She ignored my threat, toyin' with me.

"All you need 'ta know," I growled, "is that if anything happens 'ta me, he'll find ya 'nd wipe you off the face 'a the earth."

She feigned a fearful expression. "Ooo! So scary!" She then rolled her eyes. "Please. I'm not scared of you. In fact, you should be the one who's scared."

She snapped her finger, 'nd I felt a presence loom over me from behind. I looked over my shoulder 'ta see that Bistecca woman towerin' over me, wearin' the grimmest expression I've ever seen. I frowned 'nd looked back at the other woman now.

"You're a known trespasser, Alexandra Mirtillo," she began. "Someone would pay a pretty penny to put you outta commission."

Despite myself, I felt my heart begin 'ta thump in my chest, tryin' 'ta fight off the sinkin' feelin' in my nose, like I was tryin' 'ta breathe underwater. I needed 'ta stay tough, though.

"So? If you were gonna kill me, you woulda done it already," I gruffed.

She hopped off the nook 'nd approached me, the chained watch hanging from her waist swayin' as she did so. "Hm, you really are smart. Right you are..."

"Then what do you want from me?"

She kicked the chair I was in, then caught the back 'a it with her hand 'ta keep me at an angle. She leaned in close, a sadistic grin on her face 'fore she ran her thumb over my lower lip, then trailed her fingers down my jaw 'nd across my throat. It made me shudder, but my stern gaze never faltered.

"Shh, shh, baby-doll. I'll be the one leading this conversation. Don't forget your place," she purred.

I clenched my jaw, my brows furrowin', but I stayed quiet.

"You really surprised me back there with your Stand! I felt an exciting little twinge of fear! Bravissimo! You really made me feel alive!" She chucked a bit 'fore pinchin' my cheek. "You're good at what you do– pickpocketing, mugging, theft, picking out a target from a crowd. I've seen the cash you've been raking in. And while it's not the most glamorous number, it's still impressive for an unaffiliated street-punk like you..." She then held my jaw firmly 'nd dug her nails into the skin 'a my face. "Which means I've been losing out on cash and it's been burning into my pockets! These are my streets, and you've taken from me for long enough without paying tribute!"

I hissed a bit in pain, my eyes still burnin' holes into hers.

"But I'm not without pity. No, no, baby-doll..." she practically cooed 'ta me, loosening her grip 'nd bringin' her face closer 'ta mine. "I know it's a tough world out there. Maybe you're just trying to make ends meet and you don't mean to offend me..."

I didn't like how touchy she was, but I stayed quiet.

"So, I'm giving you an option..."

I raised my brow now, interest piqued. Seems like I'd be alive 'ta see tomorrow based on her tone. "I'm listening..."

She nodded 'nd smiled a bit. "Good, good... Listen carefully, because here they are: you can either run these streets with me and pay a percentage of what you make as tribute to me and the familia..." She paused for dramatic effect, leanin' in towards my pierced ear 'nd whisperin' the second option 'ta me. "Or I leave your dead body in a gutter..." I then felt her grin, her cheek brushin' up against my ear as she finished in an overly cheery tone. "Your choice!"

My eyes widened a bit as I processed her threat, but the decision was practically made for me. There's no way I'd make an idiotic move like refusin' and gettin' myself knackered.

"I'll pay you your money," I finally replied in a grunt.

"Good girl... I knew you were smart enough 'ta make the right decision." She patted my head in a condescending manner, 'nd I had to bite back a curse. "But while I have you here, I should introduce myself."

She backed away a bit. "Firstly, though... Show me your Stand."

My expression dropped a bit. "My Stand?"

"Yes... I know you saw mine back there, so you're obviously a Stand user. So let me see it. And remember, if you try to pull something stupid and attack me, Bistecca there'll knock you dead," she warned.

I grumbled 'fore noddin'. I wasn't in a position 'ta argue. I was bein' let off the hook pretty easily this time, 'nd I knew I'd be caught by some Passione stronzo someday...

I manifested my Stand, Demidevil, 'nd its spectral form appeared 'ta my right. It was a bluish feminine-lookin' humanoid with oversized claws, lots 'a triangular motifs, large devil's horns 'nd a tail, 'nd hooves for feet. The fire-headed woman approached it, studyin' it with a thoughtful, analytical expression.

"Hm... Interesting. What does it do?" she asked. "I felt it grab me earlier. It has a strong grip!"

Without hesitation, Demidevil wrapped its claws 'round the chair I was tied to as I braced myself, 'nd in only a moment, the chair splintered into pieces 'nd crumbled in on itself. Now able to stand on my feet, I sized the woman up.

"Hah! Not bad..." she said. "Useful... It applies lethal pressure to things."

"Now, tell me your name," I demanded.

"You can call me Aracini. You'll be reporting to me from now on, and don't forget it," she answered. "I'll meet you at Ristorante della Terza Strada once a week on Fridays to secure my tribute."

I nodded in acknowledgment, comin' to terms with the new situation I had brought upon myself. Just great... I said I never wanted 'ta be owned by somebody again 'nd now lookit me...

"Fine," I huffed.

Aracini jabbed me in the gut, standin' 'bout close enough for our chests 'ta touch now. "And if you fail to show up, or if I found out you're keeping from me, I'm gonna cut off that pretty little head 'a yours, m'kay?"

I let out a sharp breath of air. I had so much I wanted 'ta say, so many threats I wanted 'ta let fly outta my mouth, but I knew I had 'ta stay quiet. "Alright..."

Aracini nodded 'nd snapped at Bistecca, 'nd without a word passing between them, the large woman knew 'ta untie the rope that bound my hands behind my back. Once my arms were free, I adjusted my shoulders 'nd straightened the collar of my jacket.

She then grasped my hand 'nd slid my wedding ring back onto my ring finger. "Hmph, I hope that man of yours appreciates you... Street smart, intuitive, confident, sharp-tongued, easy on the eyes... He's a lucky one. Would hate to widow him should you go back on your word..."

I met her cruel yet playful gaze for a moment, my own face as serious 'nd grave as it could possibly be. I wasn't goin' 'ta play games here. I wanted away from this nutter 'nd her guard dog.

"You'll get your damn money. I'm not a pillock." I adjusted my top. "Now where the hell'd you drag me to? Are we still in Firenze?"

"Yeah. You'll know your way around once you get outside," Aracini replied. "But before you go, take your phone back." She handed it to me. "I took the liberty of putting my number in your caller list, that way if you do something stupid, I can get in touch with you. Oh, plus your bat..."

She snapped again 'nd Bistecca fetched my bat 'nd handed it to me, glarin' at me in warning, as if to say, "Don't try anything."

I stuck my phone back in my pocket 'nd held my bat at my side. Damn... I didn't even know she'd taken it. It's not like I coulda checked anyway. I turned 'ta leave, but Aracini called out 'ta me again 'fore I did.

"Ooo, and you should probably check up on that head wound 'a yours when you get in front of a mirror next. Bistecca clobbered you pretty hard."

I rolled my eyes now that I was turned away from them 'nd clenched my fists. I tried 'ta respond sarcastically, but I was seethin', 'nd my voice came out as strained from behind my teeth. "Yeah, thanks for the heads-up..."

"You look real hot with blood on you, though... Almost makes me wanna putcha through hell just to see how sexy you'd be at the end of your rope."

I closed my eyes, 'nd every fiber 'a my being tensed up so hard I felt like I was burnin' up on the inside. I hated this kinda talk... I could handle it, sure, but it reminded me too much 'a how objectified I was in the past. I again, though, tried 'ta respond in an inoffensive manner so my next move could be soddin' off.

"How charming..."

With that, I marched towards the door 'nd out into the daylight, shoulders still scrunched upward in discomfort. What a bunch of wankers...

I recognized what street I was on. I could catch a bus to Fiesole no problem. I reached down into the waistband 'a my thong 'nd pulled out a small wad 'a Lira, grinnin' 'ta myself in a cocky manner.

These idiots have no idea who they're messing with...

 

-- Chapter End --

🔺🔺🔺

 

Notes:

TL;DR Alex joins up with a pack of wild lesbians lmao

Chapter 16: Girl is A Gun Part 1

Summary:

A rude awakening turns into a fun adventure with the guys!

Althaia's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

I was nearly a month into being a member of La Squadra and, due to that, being classified as an 'assassin'– though I had no interest in killing anyone, nor had I been brought on a mission at all. I spent my days busying myself at our base: cleaning the house, cooking, learning about my comrades, waking up to petty arguments, and otherwise going about the town or relaxing. It was a pretty easy life, all things considered.

During the rare times that Risotto willingly let me into his office, I helped him file and organize paperwork, and other boring secretarial stuff. Most of the time, though, he would say that my, "enthusiasm disgusted him", or my "never-ending bubbly chatter made him nauseous", so... overall I think he was quite fond of me.

That morning, I was sleeping in my bed rather peacefully, long green hair in an utter mess. I'm sure I didn't look very flattering. Guess that didn't matter though...

"G'mornin', Green," I heard a familiar voice say in my half-asleep state.

There was then a tap on my shoulder that woke me up.

I jolted out of a resting position, hair wild and plastered to one side of my face. I looked to where I felt the weight of someone sitting next to my legs and saw Formaggio there, a goofy smile on his face.

"Hah, ya drool in your sleep..." he said, chuckling a bit and pointing to my pillow.

I wiped the side of my lip with the back of my hand before speaking up in a confused, husky tone. "Huh...? Formaggio, what are you doing?"

"Ah, guess we forgot to give ya the memo but on the second of every month we head up to an abandoned building and run some drills to keep our minds sharp. Usually some weapons training, sparring, what have you..."

I took a deep breath and stretched a bit before rubbing my eyes and yawning. "What time is it?"

"Mmm, 'bout 5:30 AM."

"What?!" My eyes fully opened now, and I sat up straight.

"Yeah, we gotta head to the van. It's a bit of a drive but not too far. We gotta make sure we're in a place where no civilians are around."

"We?"

"Yeah," he said coolly with a grin. "You're one of us now, kid. Ya gotta come with, get your skills up. Besides, if someone gets hurt, ya gotta be there, right?"

I felt a mild pang of anxiety hit my heart. I've never used a weapon before... And I'm short! I'm supposed to spar against these... these behemoths?! Sorry, that's rude. It's just that Risotto and Illuso are really tall and it's kinda daunting...

"I–I guess..." I murmured.

"Up and at 'em, then! Rest of the guys are wakin' up 'nd stuff so you've got some time. You're my little apprentice now so I've gotta keep you in the loop." He stood up and began walking towards the door.

I sighed and nodded, looking down at my hands in my lap. "You think I'm gonna have to fight anyone?" My voice sounded so meek and childish. It was stupid.

He stood still for a moment, turning back to me with a reassuring smile. "Mm, maybe... But we'll try to make it fair. This is only your first time."

"No Stands involved, right?"

He shook his head. "Nah... Stands are for personal practice. Don't wanna kill each other."

"Y'know, I haven't seen any of yours yet..."

"Hopefully you'll never have to."

"Well, hopefully you'll never have to see mine either." I smiled a bit.

He returned it before nodding. "Don't worry so much. Think of this like a, uh... Like a bonding exercise, y'know?"

I relaxed a little at that... A bonding experience. I liked the sound of that. "Okay!"

"Atta girl. Alright, get ready to go and meet us in the driveway."

I nodded and watched him leave and shut the door behind him.

What an interesting day this would be...

 

*

 

Once everyone was dressed, had eaten, and were out the door, we all piled into the van that was used for group excursions, I suppose. Prosciutto drove while Risotto sat in the passenger seat, which means the rest of us had to make do with being in close quarters in the back of the van. There were two individual seats behind the front row, which everyone decided Ghiaccio and Melone should sit in to avoid fights... So it was up to Pesci, Illuso, Formaggio, and I to squeeze into the back row. It was really only meant to seat three people, so, like some corny sitcom, I was made to sit on someone's lap since I was lighter.

I didn't exactly feel comfortable sitting on Formaggio's lap due to the fact that I knew he had a wife now... I wanted to be respectful towards her, even if I didn't know her. And Pesci was too nervous... So, Illuso it was.

It was still early morning, so the sun was only just now coming over the horizon and the warm, piercing rays of light were sprinkling life on the very city we were leaving. They made my amber eyes light up, as if they were lanterns on a warm summer's night. I loved sunrises, even if they hurt my eyes, so while I was sat on Illuso's lap, I was looking out the window and taking stock of my life as it was right now. I wasn't exactly as happy as I used to be, and I missed everything I left behind... I missed my family, my careers, my purpose... But I knew for a fact now that if I could, by some miracle, return to my previous life...

I'd miss these guys, too.

And, hey, the seating arrangements in the car weren't the most ideal, but it could be worse... I could be sitting on Melone's lap... I am very glad I am not.

In the time I've been here, I've learned a little about Illuso. Mostly that he's self-admittedly vain, has a high ego, and takes care to his appearance quite a bit. I had noticed that he was definitely prideful of his hair, which was good, because it was very pretty! Though I wasn't expecting this conversation to happen this morning...

"What did you put in your hair?" he asked me in an almost analytical tone.

I turned from the window to meet his gaze, which was fixed on the top of my head. Our faces were extremely close. I came up to his neck. "Huh? Oh, just some conditioning spray and dry shampoo... Why?"

It seemed like he didn't want to admit something, rolling his eyes a bit and speaking as if he were forcing the words out. "Because it... smells incredible. I..." He trailed off before wearing a sour expression and mumbling the rest of the sentence. "...want the names of the products... for myself."

I could hardly contain the small laugh I let out when he struggled so much to allow himself to connect with me. I didn't want to rub it in, though. I wanted to encourage it. "Sure! I'll show you when we get back to the house."

He nodded and looked out the window with a schooled expression, trying to play off his embarrassment. "Sounds good..."

The drive was pretty long and since I was woken up so early, I started to get kind of tired, but I tried to stay awake and busy myself in conversation. Melone was on his computer, like almost always, and Ghiaccio was talking to him. Despite how temperamental Ghiaccio was and how much he and Melone bickered, I could tell they were best friends. They always talked to each other more than anyone else. It was kind of sweet. And although it was hard to hear, I could tell Prosciutto and Risotto were in quiet conversation as well. They also seemed to be good friends. Prosciutto and Pesci were also extremely in-sync and were almost constantly together. Not to mention, Formaggio and Illuso had a strange "I'm going to try to out-pester the other" bond that I didn't quite understand, but I was happy for them nonetheless!

And then there was me.

I know, I know... I shouldn't be so wound up in who exactly is going to end up being my best friend in this whole matter... I've only known these guys for three weeks. But I dunno... I used to have friends and now I didn't. I was trying to cling to whatever semblance of attention I was getting because for the past year I have felt utterly alone. And now I wasn't! And it felt amazing! But, still, I didn't want to come off too strong, even though I already was... I just have so much love to give and so much love was taken from me on that god forsaken day...

And so... I let myself just be present in the moment; not overthink it and just feel. I was still tired, so I laid my head down on Illuso's shoulder and closed my eyes. I didn't get much of a reaction out of him, which was fine. I was fine where I was at.

I heard a little snicker to my right. It was Formaggio. "Ya tired, Green? Did I wake ya up too early?"

I kept my eyes closed but smiled anyway. "A little bit... I slept like shit last night."

"Really? Didn't look like it. I saw the drool on your pillow."

I grinned a little and playfully kicked at his leg with my foot.

"Hah! You drool?" Illuso began, an arrogant quality to his teasing. "Imagine..."

"I–I mean... I do. Is that bad...?" Pesci asked in his signature dopey voice.

I shrugged a bit. "No, doesn't mean much of anything. These guys are just jerks," I teased back.

"If drooling in your sleep was a crime, Ghiaccio would be sentenced to life," Melone interjected, still typing away at his computer.

"Hey!" Ghiaccio barked. "Don't go spilling my business like that, asshole! Besides, you drool all the time during daylight at random women. You'd be sentenced to life for a more obvious reason!"

Melone, amused by his own vice, laughed a bit. "Guilty as charged."

"Eh, not that surprising, to be honest..." Formaggio said. "Kinda expect a loudmouth like you to do something like that, Ghiaccio."

Ghiaccio turned around and pointed at Formaggio, straining against the seatbelt and staring daggers at him from behind his red-framed glasses. "Watch it, punk! You had better pray that I'm not paired up with you for sparring!"

"Don't raise your voice in the car," Risotto chimed in unexpectedly, bringing him to a silence.

"And try not to kill each other," Prosciutto added, mostly focused on driving.

"Eh, even if somebody gets a black eye, I'll take care of 'em," I joked.

"Speaking of..." Pesci fidgeted a bit, consumed by nerves. "A–am I gonna have to fight anyone this time...?"

"Don't whine about it, Mammoni. If you want to get stronger, you'll persevere and raise your standards. Having confidence in your skill is the first step," Prosciutto lectured. "The second step is acting on that skill. And I will push you to the edge until you can do so."

Pesci nodded and gulped, looking down and radiating an air of self-doubt. Poor guy... Although, I wasn't feeling much better. I was just trying to hide it. But maybe a little bit of tough-love and reassurance from Prosciutto would help.

"What about me? Am I going to spar?" I asked.

There was a brief silence, filled only by hushed muttering between Prosciutto and Risotto that I couldn't make out. A part of me was really hoping they'd say no...

"Do you think you can handle it, Belladonna?" Risotto asked, deep voice filling the secluded quiet of the car.

"Handle what? Fighting one of you?" I thought it over for a moment, increasing worry settling in my stomach. "I mean... guess it depends on who..."

"What? Got someone in mind, new girl? Have you ranked all of us in terms of who you think you could take down?" Illuso sneered.

I finally opened my eyes, only to roll them. "Obviously. What woman doesn't when she walks into a room full of men?"

I could see Formaggio's expression form one of silent agreement. He has a wife. I'd expect him to understand the most out of anyone.

"Smart girl..." Melone muttered.

I didn't want to put myself at unnecessary risk before I was ready, but I also didn't want to appear weak. I didn't want Risotto to see me as more useless to this team than I already am. I didn't want to be "dead weight" like he was so worried about. So, I said something pretty stupid...

"Sure, I'll spar."

I could see most of their heads turn to look at me, save for Prosciutto.

"What?! You're really gonna do it?" Pesci exclaimed first, unable to relate to my confidence.

"Atta girl. I told ya," Formaggio said with a grin.

"You think you, a one hundred-sixty-three centimeter medic, is going to stand a chance against an experienced hitman? Tch. In your dreams..." Illuso looked out the window again, his brows furrowed a bit.

"Hah! Yeah! You're gonna be face down in seconds!" Ghiaccio shouted, only to be met by shushing from Prosciutto.

"I'd be keen on an opportunity to get so close to you... It'd be... informative," Melone said in typical Melone fashion.

I turned my nose up at him and then spoke out. "Can I request not to spar with Melone?"

"I'm not that much of a hardass... I wouldn't do that to you," Risotto said, an almost inaudible exhaustive tone lacing his voice. I knew the poor guy was almost always tired... I wished the others saw it. I wished he wasn't such a jerk about being offered help.

"Too bad..." Melone shrugged.

"Why can't you be more like your sister?" Ghiaccio grumbled.

"Hah! You guys think my sister is so much more normal compared to me? Please. You don't even know the half of it. We grew up in the same household. We're both weird. She just hides it better."

""Better"? Ya don't even try to hide it, man..." Formaggio shook his head.

"Uh, how is she... by the way?" Illuso inquired in an uncharacteristically awkward tone. "She hasn't been around in a while..."

"She's fine. Same old. Why?" Melone responded.

"Ah, you know... Just... curiosity..."

My eyes widened and I whipped my head around to meet his gaze, and it didn't take long for him to lock eyes with me since we were so close. I know that tone! I can see it in his eyes! He likes her!

Almost like he could read my mind, he mouthed, "stop" to me.

Hah! I was right! I wanted to tease him so badly... I wanted to ask so many questions, but I held back. I did, however, point at him and waggle my finger with a stupid grin on my face, but he quickly frowned and swatted my hand away.

Moments like this made me forget I was even a mafiosa... I was just part of the group.

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

If I had to be in a van with these men I think I'd jump out the window lowk

Chapter 17: Girl is A Gun Part 2

Summary:

Hard to fire a gun when you've only ever seen them in the movies...

Althaia's perspective

Carmignano, Italia- 2001

 

It took what seemed like forever but eventually the squad and I made it to our destination. I was expecting like a... gym, or a shooting range, but when I looked out the window, I saw a large, broken down, abandoned building before us. I squinted through the sunlight coming down on the car, trying to make sense of it.

"What is this place?" I asked.

"It's where we train," Formaggio answered.

"It's an abandoned bomb factory," Prosciutto clarified, putting the van in park and pulling the key out of the ignition.

The purr of the engine halted and everyone began getting out of the van, so I followed suit. The air smelled fresh, and we weren't too far from the city, but far enough for it to be quieter than I was used to. It was almost nice... It would have been nicer if I was here for pleasure rather than work. But I knew I was probably gonna get my ass kicked...

I walked to the edge of the grass lot we were on, hands on my hips, chest puffed out as I took in the zesty spring gust.

"If you screamed out here, no one would hear you," I said, words juxtaposed with the contented expression on my face. My eyes widened a bit, and I turned around when I heard the trunk of the van opening.

"That's the point," Prosciutto said with his eyes focused on the pistol in his hand, loading it.

Guns...? Ah, God, I'm real outta place... I know they're hitman... That I'm supposed to be one, but...

"So, is the weapons training first?" I asked, now regrouping with the others as they milled about or stretched after sitting for so long.

"We usually do that first," Risotto answered, leaning against the van with his arms crossed over his chest. "Sparring gets people worked up... Especially Ghiaccio. I don't want to hand him a gun after."

"Oh!" I chirped awkwardly... Scary, hah...

"That was one time!" Ghiaccio snapped.

"And I almost died!" Illuso shouted.

Pesci whimpered a bit. "It was bad..."

"What the hell did you guys get up to before I showed up?" I couldn't tell if I wanted to laugh or yank my hair out.

"'Bout the same..." Formaggio shrugged.

"Alright, in a line," Prosciutto ordered, voice as still as a surgeon's hands.

I felt that horrible, tingling, bubbling pit of anxiety rising from my gut now and I kept my eyes low as we all lined up. I could see Pesci purposefully try to stick to the back of the line... But I had the same idea, so I slipped by and stood behind him. I didn't want to do this... I've never held a gun before. I'm scared and I'll also look like an idiot...

Prosciutto went down the line and handed us each a pistol. It was heavier than I thought it would be, and the metal felt odd under my hands... I could hardly mask the nervous look on my face, and I think Prosciutto noticed it when I caught his eye, but he didn't say anything for now. My knees already felt wobbly... Not good.

Prosciutto and Risotto watched from the sidelines as each of us were to empty a magazine of bullets on different targets that had been previously painted on the deteriorating brick wall of this abandoned building. Formaggio was the first to fire and as soon as the initial shot rang through the air, I damn near jumped out of my skin and I think, embarrassingly, I let out a little whimper. This made the ones closest to me turn in my direction, but I tried to play it off.

Another shot rang out. Another, another, ripping through the air. And the whole time I jumped and prayed to God no one would notice...

All of them were exceptional shots, save for Pesci, who was unfocused and had trouble aiming with shaky hands. But he still held the gun and fired. It was so loud I thought I was going to tear up.

Then it was my turn...

I was, at this point, a trembling, glassy-eyed mess, and the gun felt heavier in my hand every second I held it. I stared at the targets I was supposed to shoot and, honestly, my heart was in my throat. I had never held a gun before, let alone pulled the trigger. I had no idea what to expect. I had heard about recoil, but I didn't know how bad it was... Would I mess up and accidentally shoot someone?

My mind was spinning, and my breathing was becoming more and more shallow and rapid as it passed over my dry lips, which I had been biting on out of stress. I knew I was having a panic attack, I knew the signs, but what could I do...?

So, I locked my arm, held the gun as straight as I could, and, like an idiot, closed my teary eyes.

Right before I pulled the trigger, I heard both Risotto and Prosciutto call out my name urgently, but it was too late.

The sound was so loud that my ears ached and I was jolted backwards with a force I was not expecting. I let out a small cry and dropped the gun. As I landed back into Formaggio's, I could see Risotto and Prosciutto flinch and jump back as the gun hit the ground, probably to avoid potential inertia discharge.

I was shaking like a damn leaf, and I felt like a fucking baby... Here I am, in front of experienced hitmen, and I failed so hard at firing a gun just once.

Formaggio, who had caught me and was now supporting me while I was still too shocked to get to my feet, looked down at me with utter concern in his green eyes. "Al, you okay? What happened??"

My brain scrambled to find an explanation, but I couldn't get any words out of my mouth.

"What the hell was that?!" Ghiaccio yelled.

Prosciutto, who had finally recovered from the slight scare I had given him, approached me with a judgmental expression. "Have you never fired a gun before?"

I finally managed to stand on my own, trying to speak while masking the tremor in my voice. "N–no... I–I've never even touched a gun... until now."

The men behind me exclaimed in mixed shock, amusement, and frustration.

"Well, that explains a lot," Illuso said with a snicker.

Prosciutto came closer to me, nearly getting in my face after picking up the gun I dropped. "Why are you on a team of hitman if you can't even fire a gun without closing your eyes?"

There was a different energy about him this morning. He was in his element. He was an instructor, an evaluator, and I was the clueless new kid that just screamed "incompetent".

I felt so small in front of him now, my voice weak. "I–I don't know... I–"

"Speak with your chest!"

"I'm not a hitman!" I took a step back in order to face all of them, and despite myself, I was tearing up. I was frustrated and scared and embarrassed.

"You are now, so get used to it," Prosciutto replied.

"No, no! I'm not! I'm not a hitman, I'm not a mafiosa! I'm a doctor! I'm a medical doctor; I have a doctorate! I should be working in a hospital!" I held my hands to my chest as I ranted, trying not to actually sob. "I should be saving lives not taking them! I had a whole life before this! I was happy! I've never needed to touch a weapon in my life! And now I..." I looked around at all of their faces and my vision started to get blurry with hot, stinging tears... I can't show my face around here.

I rushed past the group and back to the van, stepping behind it so that it obstructed their view of me. I pressed my back against it and slumped down, slowly sliding to a sitting position. I didn't want to be too loud, but I also couldn't stop myself from crying, so I covered my face with my hands in order to muffle the sound.

I hated this... I hated seeming so weak in front of my colleagues. I hated already being a disappointment on my first official outing. I hated giving Prosciutto a reason to look down on me, for any of them to. I hated that this was my job, I hated guns, I hated violence, I hated my life as it currently stood, and I hated that my purpose had been turned on its head. I was a nice, loving, gentle girl. I didn't want this...

I... I sucked. I was–

"Terrible."

My head shot up and with wide, reddened eyes, I turned to my left to see Risotto sitting next to me on the ground, knees to his chest, resting his arms on them. He was starting ahead with an almost blank expression.

"What?" I squeaked out.

"Terrible. You were terrible."

"I–" I huffed and sniffled, wiping my eyes. "I don't need you to come over here and rub it in my face."

"I thought I told you I didn't need "dead weight" around here..."

"Is this your attempt at making me feel better?!"

"No. I didn't come here to do that. I came here to tell you to get your ass back in gear and stop crying like a child."

I crossed my arms over my chest and closed myself off, a heavy frown settling on my tear-stricken face. "I don't want to be here."

"The whole time, during our first meeting, you pushed me to bring you on because you wanted to be a part of this team."

"I–I wanted to be somewhere, Risotto! But not here! Not like– Not like this..."

There was a silence for a moment and we both kept our heads forward. My lip was trembling as I restrained myself from crying further.

I expected that to be the end of it before he spoke up again, voice as calm as ever. "When I was growing up, I wanted to be a musician..."

I wiped my tears again and looked over at him, putting my emotions on hold for a moment. "Hm?"

"I wanted to be like my idols, be in a rock band, have my voice on a vinyl someday since I loved them so much." What subtle, wistful smile that had settled onto his face as he described his dreams was washed away in an instant. "But then life happened. By my own choices that led me down this path. And I didn't want to be here either, but I dusted myself off and decided that if this was my only way to survive, I was going to make the best of it, build a career."

I digested his words and let them float around my mind for a moment as my tears dwindled, nodding. When I spoke next, my voice was a bit congested-sounding from crying. "Why are you helping me right now? I thought you hated me."

Risotto sighed and shook his head. "I had your background file unencrypted by Marsala..."

A sharp pang of panic hit my chest. "What?!"

"After your comment about being "covered in blood", I got curious and did some digging. I wanted to know who I was working with."

"Risotto, that's classified for a reason–"

"I know your whole story, Dr. Amalthea Diamandis– nationally renowned figure skater, on her way to be an Olympic competitor. I thought I had seen your face before. Looks like you had a dream too, but you ruined it."

Like an arrow had pierced me, I felt my whole body go rigid and the only thing I could hear for a moment was my heart pounding in my ears. I haven't heard that name in more than a year...

At my stunned silence, he grinned a bit, and I mean really. It was the first time I've seen him smile.

"You have rage inside of you. And despite what you portray you really are a shady, manipulative person deep down. I want you to use that. Get your head in the game here. You don't get to go back to that life, so make the best of this one."

It took me longer that I would have liked to recover from hearing my birth name, but once I finally did and took in his words, I nodded hesitantly. He was right, I knew he was... I had to make the best of it. I was here, whether I liked it or not.

"I... I get it," I mumbled, drying the last of my tears from my eyes.

"Now, come on," he said, standing up and offering his hand to me. "I'm going to show you how to shoot a gun without trying to accidentally kill me and Prosciutto this time."

I hadn't seen it until now, but there was a protective, supportive side to Risotto that made me realize all of the sudden why he was the leader of this team.

He actually cared.

I nodded and took his hand, letting him bring me to my feet. I dusted off my skirt, swiped at my cheeks one last time, then took a deep breath. I could do this.

Risotto led me back out into the field from behind the van, then held his hand out towards Prosciutto as he passed. Prosciutto, expression skeptical, gave Risotto a loaded pistol then watched the two of us.

I stood where I had before, took the gun in my hand, and tried to focus my breathing while Risotto tweaked and altered both my arm and hip placements. I could feel everyone's eyes on me now after my outburst, but I tried not to think about it.

After I was in the proper position, he kept his hand on my waist to steady me, then placed his other one on top of one of mine. He leaned down as he did so, his head hovering over my shoulder. When he spoke, I could feel the bass of his decadent voice reverberate throughout my body.

"Eyes open, focus on the notches. Aim a little higher than your target, but not by much. Accounts for wind drag." He helped me aim the gun. "Don't release your position once you've fired. Try to stay as still as possible. Don't worry about the recoil, I'm right behind you. You'll get used to it."

With his advice, I took a shaky breath and nodded, my teeth digging into my lower lip as I tried to zero-in. "I'm ready."

"Alright. Fire."

I did as he said and pulled the trigger, forcing myself to keep my eyes open as much as I could. I felt the recoil but not nearly to the same degree, and now that I was in the right position, it didn't feel so scary. I was so focused on staying in position that I didn't even check to see where my bullet went.

"Atta girl! Lookit you go!" I heard Formaggio exclaim.

"My God, she actually did it..." Melone muttered.

Risotto patted my shoulder before stepping away. "Lower your gun and look at your target."

I did so, and Prosciutto carefully took the gun from me. When I looked up and saw that I had landed on the bullseye of the target, my stomach did a somersault. I...

"I did it!" I cheered, jumping up and down with my fist pumped in the air. "I actually did it!"

I ran up to Formaggio to give him a hug out of excitement, and the rest of the guys congratulated me. Illuso and Formaggio, then, thought it'd be funny to lift me up on their shoulders like I had just won a World Cup. For a split moment I forgot about unfortunate my situation was and tried to count my blessings. These people obviously cared about me and were allowing me to make mistakes...

That meant everything to me.

While the rest of us were goofing off and celebrating, Risotto and Prosciutto held back.

"I should probably apologize at some point, right?" Prosciutto asked as he watched.

"Maybe... Seems like she has rejection sensitive dysphoria coupled with perfectionism tendencies. She's showing signs of obvious adjustment disorder," Risotto replied.

"There's that psychology talk."

"Mhm. I have a Laurea Magistrale, I might as well make good use of it."

There was a pause for a moment as Risotto watched us, and a faint smile spread across his face, which Prosciutto quickly caught onto.

"Are you smiling??"

His face quickly went stoic again. "No, I'm not."

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

Listen to Girl is a Gun by Halsey!

Chapter 18: Assassin Anecdotes: Right-Hook!

Summary:

Sometimes sweet girls can be vicious too.

Althaia's perspective

Carmignano, Italia- 2001

 

"Alright, Green, you can shoot a gun, but can ya hold up in a fight?" Formaggio asked, arms crossed over his chest.

"I can certainly try."

Me and the guys were standing in a group now, facing each other. Weapons training was over, and now, it was time to spar.

"If this goes anything like the first time you fired a gun, you'll be on the ground in seconds," Illuso said, a gloating quality in his voice.

"Haha, very funny..." I grumbled. "So, who am I going to spar with?"

Melone began to raise his hand, but the rest of the group turned to look at him, and we call stated a very clear, "Not you!"

"Can't blame a guy for trying..." he tittered.

"I can," I asserted, glaring at him.

"Right..." Prosciutto began, "In terms of skill level, you'd probably do best sparring with Pesci."

Pesci gulped a bit, seeming like he wanted to speak out, but Prosciutto intervened.

"But he's my protégée, so I will be sparring with him," he said.

I nodded, fiddling with one of my braids. "So..."

"Heh, maybe she should fight Formaggio, seeing as he's the weakest out of all of us," Illuso sneered.

"Alright, can it, asshole!" Formaggio barked, driving his finger into Illuso's chest. "I'm sparring you just for that."

Dammit... I was kinda hoping for him...

"Fine then, go begin," Risotto said, dismissing them with a fleeting gesture.

The two walked off, already bickering a bit and talking shit. Prosciutto also beckoned for Pesci to follow him, and he came to the man's side in an obedient heel as they walked out further into the field.

I nervously made eye contact with Ghiaccio, who looked just about ready to twitch out of his skin, itching to fight. I recoiled into myself, hugging my arms and stepping away... No thank you!

"Relax, Belladonna. You're not sparring with Ghiaccio," Risotto interrupted my thoughts. "That's Melone's job."

"What?! Why is it always me? He always pulls my hair..." Melone complained. His behavior then flipped like a switch, and he stepped closer to Ghiaccio, a sultry expression on his face as he rubbed his shoulder against the other man's. "Mm, but I kind of like it."

Ghiaccio's cheeks lit up with a reddish hue before he gritted his teeth and lunged at him. "I'll kill you!"

Melone shrieked a bit and began sprinting away as Ghiaccio chased him down. I watched the whole ordeal with a bit of a grimace on my face before Risotto's voice drew my attention back.

"And then there were two," he said, arms crossed.

I smirked a bit and took a step closer to him. "Hm, y'sure you didn't plan this as a way to pay me back for making you get all sappy back there?"

"That could be the case, though I'll let you decide."

"So, I assume this is more so about teaching me rather than actually sparring?"

"Exactly. Considering your... earlier reaction... I assume you've never really gotten into physical altercations in the past."

I chuckled a little, my hands behind my back in a coy manner. "Look at the brains on you."

"Ah, shut it. Get into position."

I nodded, trying to stamp down the bit of anxiety I was feeling as I took a few steps back. "So, what's your teaching style...?"

"By example."

"What??"

Before I could even properly react, he charged at me, fist wound up. Was this guy crazy?! Asshole! I squeaked in mild fear and closed my eyes, leaving it up to God at this point.

By instinct, though, I think I crouched to the ground and hugged my knees to my chest, my face buried in my knees. There was a silence for a moment as I held still, expecting pain, but I felt nothing. I only snapped out of it once I heard Risotto speak again.

"What the hell was that?"

I looked up at him, my expression akin to a dog that got caught doing wrong. "Huh?"

"You... You didn't even try to block or dodge! You just cowered."

"I think I blacked out..."

"Stand up, you idiot."

I did so and looked up at him as he rolled his eyes.

"Where's that rage, huh? I know you have it in you," he began.

"I–"

"You murdered a woman in cold blood for trying to report your crime. You slit her throat open!"

My heart began to thump in my ears again and tunnel vision slowly faded in. "Stop! Don't say that! I didn't– That's classified!"

"You're a dirty, lying, cheating, money-hungry criminal who ended an innocent life to protect yourself. How did it feel in that moment to find out that deep down you're a savage monster? That you're no better than those mafiosos who placed bets on you?"

No, I didn't– I didn't want to be reminded of that night! I watched the scene replay in my head every time I closed my eyes, I remember scrubbing my body so hard in the shower that my skin was raw, leaving my family behind, the open wound, the look on her face as the light left her eyes, the–

I was a teary-eyed, ragged-breathing ball of panic and anger with a heaving chest by now, and I vaguely remember seeing Risotto wear a satisfied yet slightly sadistic smile.

"What would happen if the world knew, Amalthea? That their inspiration was nothing but a disgusting murderer–"

"Shut up!" I roared, lunging at him now in a fit of rage. I was throwing shots blindly, I can hardly remember seeing anything but my darkened vision and the hazy tears in my eyes.

All I knew is that I was hurling as many attacks as I could in his direction, and he was either deflecting or avoiding them.

"Good! This is what you need to harness when you're fighting!" he called out to me, catching one of my fists, but I didn't react.

I tried to grab at him, jumping towards him at full force, but he simply ducked and let me fly over his shoulder and roll off his back. I hit the ground behind him, letting out a small "oof" before staring up at the blue sky, trying to catch my breath. My vision was coming back, and I was trying to take stock of my surroundings– the feeling of the grass under my head, the slow, rolling movement of the clouds, the soft breeze passing over me... What the hell just happened? It felt just like before, where I was so protective of my reputation that I lashed out... That's why I was even here in the first place.

The sunlight in my eyes was suddenly blocked as a dark figure loomed over me, a soft jingling sound accompanying it. I squinted up and made out a face past the light in my vision. It was Risotto, and his dark eyes had a glint of amusement in them.

"That was exciting, don't you think?" he asked, nearly grinning.

"You're a jerk, you know that?! Stop calling me by that name!" I yelled, finally realizing that I had been crying again.

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings?"

"Obviously!"

"Good. That was the point. I wanted you to see that your violent streak wasn't a lone accident. You're capable of fighting, so stop cutting yourself off at the knees and giving up before the hard part even begins."

I was silent for a moment, just looking up at him. I could swear he was having fun with me. Maybe he enjoyed that for once I was the one frowning while he was smiling. Maybe I seemed more human now that I was a mess just like the rest of them. His white, choppy bangs, which usually fell over his forehead, were hanging forward now, and at the present moment I took a chance to really get a good look at him while he was finally out of that office of his: fair skin, strange eyes, dark lipstick, a nice smile now that I got to see it, and now that it was above my face, I noticed that his chest was near bare... He was pretty muscular, I actually... kinda liked it... but– Ah, enough of that!

"Have you taken a liking to me all the sudden?" I finally asked, wiping my amber eyes.

"An 'interest' is a more fitting description."

"You're mean, you know that?"

"I try to be. Now get up." He helped me to my feet again, and before he let go of my hand, he spoke to me in a more hushed tone, avoiding my gaze. "And I didn't mean most of what I said back there... I meant some of it, but not all of it. We're all violent, remorseless, murderous criminals. I'm in no position to judge you for that."

"I have remorse, Risotto... I'm filled with regret each and every day," I replied, my forehead etched with tension.

"Then you're better off than the rest of us." He then sighed and let go of me, stepping back a bit and raising his voice to a normal volume again. "Now, I'm actually going to teach you the proper technique when throwing a punch."

I nodded, trying to control the still simmering frustration in my heart. If I could learn to utilize it as a tool, like I think he's trying to coax me to do, I could probably keep up with the rest of them...

I could do this.

 

*

 

After being out here at the abandoned factory for a few hours, it was time for us to pack it up and go back home. The rest of the guys were in a bit of a rough shape from sparring, save for Prosciutto, so I definitely had some time to be a doctor when we got back, which I was excited for. Risotto would have a few bruises as well, but only because he let me hit him for practice, and it was actually kind of fun. I was mad at him, and that helped a lot.

As the guys were loading up the car again and taking a quick water break, I had decided to stand on the edge of the field again and just look out into the city below, seeming within touching distance but still so far at the same time. Today was rough but I survived... I was learning new things about myself along the way.

My thoughts on that matter were halted when I felt a presence stand beside me. Prosciutto was looking out into the city with me now, hands in his suit pockets. I glanced over at him, a sensation of awkwardness creeping up my back... Was he still angry with me? Did he think I was stupid? I didn't want him to... I admired him quite a bit.

"You did good today, all things considered," he finally said, blue eyes still aimed forward.

I was a bit stunned by the sentiment... Did he actually...? "Really?"

"Since this was your first time, I'll cut you some slack. But I expect you to improve each time we do this."

I looked down again and nodded. "Oh, okay..."

"I tell Pesci the same thing, but: you need to lose your insecurity over how you compare to the rest of us. Comparison for the sake of improvement is fine, but telling yourself that you might as well not try because you "weren't made for this" or don't believe you've got what it takes is an unacceptable mindset for our team, do you understand?"

I listened carefully before nodding. "I–I do."

He sighed before looking over at me. "None of us asked to be here. We didn't spend our childhoods wishing to become criminals and assassins. But that doesn't matter now. Whatever you were in your life before this can be a starting point in this new chapter, but it can't be the thing that holds you back."

I nodded and spoke next with a mildly glum but ultimately resigned tone. "I know... I'm sorry about today. I've just had a very, very rough year and I try to push the feelings down but sometimes they all come back to me at once."

He nodded and stayed silent for a moment before shrugging. "When I feel that way, I do something that used to bring me joy in my past. For me, that's going to a library. I suggest finding something like that, something private for yourself."

I smiled softly. "Libraries, huh?"

"I enjoy the atmosphere. Besides, I was quite the avid reader in the past... I try to make time for it when I can now."

"When did you join Passione?"

"...Sixteen."

"What?!" My jaw hung open for a second. "You were so young! How did you–"

"Trust me, I wasn't the youngest to join. Pesci is only twenty. He joined when he was eighteen."

I suddenly realized just how sad this whole situation really was... I don't know why it took me so long to realize that these young men, who had lives ahead of them, who should have been going to university, partying, making friends, doing stupid overnight trips and playing drinking games were all...

Stuck.

Just like me.

Except I was luckier than them, in that I got to experience my young adult life as a civilian and they didn't.

Damn... It just made me want to grab 'em all and squeeze 'em tight. They didn't belong here, and neither did I.

"Who was the youngest to join...?" I asked hesitantly.

"Melone. He was fifteen. He joined when it was still my first year in Passione. Our squad hadn't even been formed yet."

"How long has La Squadra been around?"

"Ten years..."

My eyes widened a bit in disbelief. "Wow! Really?!"

"Mhm."

"Do you guys ever do like... anniversary celebrations?"

"Psh. No. I doubt anyone would want to celebrate this. To me, it just means nearly ten years where I've been waking up to Ghiaccio and Melone fighting..."

"Well, maybe we can do something this year."

"Maybe."

I paused before looking up at him again and lowering my voice a bit. "Thank you for... coming over and talking to me. I was worried I pissed you off."

"You did, a bit. I hardly have a stomach for blatant incompetence but I'm giving you a pass... For now. But don't expect it to last for long. You'll get better or we'll force you to."

"Sorry for scaring you, too..."

He groaned a bit. "I don't want to talk about that part..."

I chuckled a little before leaning in and giving him a side hug, my arms wrapped around his small waist. I had sort of gotten a feel for the fact that no matter how business-like he was, he was very hands-on and affectionate. So was I.

So, just as I sorta expected, he put his arm around me a bit and patted my shoulder. "You'll be fine, Althaia. Don't hesitate so much. If you do, you've already failed."

I nodded, closing my eyes for a moment before grinning a bit. "You smell good."

He chuckled softly before letting me go, and in turn, I did the same. "Good. My cologne costs hundreds of dollars."

"Hundreds?!"

"Only the best."

We began walking towards the van again as everyone got in, preparing for the trip back home.

Hey, at least I learned how to execute a right-hook today!

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

Being mean as a form of encouragement lol

Chapter 19: Hit the Floor

Summary:

Some idiots just don't know when to quit...

Dante's perspective

Darsena di Cernobbio, Italia- 2001

 

Since Chiara and the others were too busy over the new brat, Stella, what would have been the job of say, Ms. Abbiati, was now mine. So, I awaited near the marina, seated at a table off to the left a ways, hood over my head, and like always, a scowl on my face. I was under the shade of a nearby archway, so the sun didn't bother me much, and no matter how hard I tried to cling onto my frustration, the salty, clean ocean breeze was loosening the pit of hatred settled in my chest.

I just wanted to get this whole thing over with, though. Maybe go home, watch some TV... Not just sit here all day watching a dock just to intervene should someone halt the delivery. Delivery of what, you ask? Fuck if I know. It's not my job to. Despite the fact that I wanted the path of least resistance, in a way, I'd be a little excited to knock some people around...

I was looking over the many dark scars over my forearms and hands as I waited. They looked like stripes almost. They were from years of fistfights and breaking shit with my hands, even if it hurt like hell. Honestly, sometimes, they still do, but I've kind of gotten used to it and I can't really stop. The thrill of shattering something like glass with your bare skin and watching the fear in your opponent's eyes when you don't even flinch after being stabbed by the shards... It's exhilarating. I know I could wear something to protect my skin but I honestly forget to.

I was looking up at the dock again when I felt a pair of hands slide over my shoulders and towards my nearly bare chest from behind me. I only tensed up for a split moment before I recognized them.

"Any signs of activity yet?" Gia asked in his usual smooth, deep voice.

"No, nothin'," I huffed, leaning my head back into his chest. "I'm bored as hell."

"Better to be bored than put out of commission."

I always really liked his voice... Was I a bit jealous that he was smaller than me but still had a deeper voice than I did? Maybe a bit... I got jealous. A lot, actually... For a number of reasons.

"Would be nice if you entertained me... That way I don't fall asleep." I furrowed my dark brows, staring ahead at the water.

"Oh, you'll get over it." He patted my shoulders. "Besides, I don't have much to offer you in that regard."

I wore a shit-eating grin and gestured in front of me. "You could do a little spin, let me see that body of yours."

He punched me in the arm for that, but I knew he would. That was the goal, anyway. I laughed a bit as he rolled his eyes and shook his head, sitting down in one of the metal seats next to me.

"You think you're so funny..." he muttered.

"Come on, you know I love you," I teased, reaching my hand towards his.

He glared at me for a moment before taking my hand. "I love you too."

Thank God I wasn't alone out here or I'd be bored out of my mind.

 

*

 

After about forty-five minutes of waiting, the delivery went just fine, and now Gia and I could go home. It'd be a long way there... Damn. By the time we got back, it'd probably be dinner time.

We were to take the train back to Milano since neither of us had our own car to use at this point, so the two of us were walking towards the station. I had my hands in my pockets like usual and a mean mug on my face. I didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea and thinking I was approachable. I wanted to look scary so they'd leave me alone. Gia, however, aside from the mask, looked approachable, and so people often did approach him. Most of the time it was just lost tourists looking for help or whatever but there was a significant amount of attention towards him that came from other men. They thought he was a woman, most people did, but even still, it pissed me off to no end...

However, since we passed as a straight couple in public, at least while Gia wasn't talking, we could hold hands and such. He nudged mine that was still in my pocket and I hesitated a bit before removing it and letting him hold it, which he happily did.

Gia seemed cold or aloof sometimes but he wasn't at all. He was pleasant, polite, competent, and calm. I was none of those things... Well, except for competent. I could do my job.

We finally arrived at the train station, and after waiting, a train came to a halt at the boarding station and all the passengers, including us, got on. We decided to sit in the back of one of the more secluded cars so we could mind our own business. I didn't like people and Gia knew that...

After about ten minutes, the train began to push forward down the tracks and I closed my eyes for a moment while I had a chance. Gia had also laid his head on my shoulder after I put my arm around him. Three years... I've been dating him for three years, and I loved every second of it. Maybe the world didn't, but I did. If I lived long enough to see the day that we were allowed to get married in Italia, I'd propose on the spot. But... I don't see that happening for a long time...

I think I was just about to doze off when there was a commotion coming from a car or two ahead of us. I shot up in my seat and scanned the car, but there was nothing. It was definitely up ahead. Gia had perked up by now too, and we glanced at each other. We were probably the strongest, most capable people on this train, and while we were mafiosos, we wouldn't stand back and watch some innocent civilians be harmed. That wasn't right.

My sister would have wanted me to protect people anyway, just like she protected me.

I stood up and Gia followed suit, and we made our way into the aisle.

"Gia." I held my hand out.

"On it."

He summoned a nondescript brown, leather briefcase from thin air, then reached inside and pulled out a pistol, placing it in my hand. I quickly put the safety on and stuck it in the waist of my pants, under my trench coat. He also retrieved a gun, then let the briefcase fade away. That was his Stand, Boy Division. And man, was it helpful.

We crept to the front of our car before sliding the door to the next one open and peering inside. Not a thing was happening... Actually, no one was even inside this car. Weird... I nodded to Gia before we traversed this car, detailing our surroundings. The train suddenly felt extremely quiet now except for some sounds of movement and quiet whimpers from the car ahead of us. That must be it...

I don't know what exactly we were getting ourselves into, but whatever it was, I wasn't scared. No, in fact...

They should be the ones pissing their pants by now.

We stood by the door for a moment, listening out before we barged in, guns drawn, eyes searching for a target. But again, there was nothing...

This was weird... It was too quiet after all the ruckus we heard earlier. It's like someone...

I suddenly whirled around and drove my elbow into the face of the man who tried to ambush us, and when he fell to the ground, I kept my boot on his throat, aiming my gun at him.

"You think this is my first battle, bastardo?! What kind of idiota tries to sneak up on a guy with a gun?" I yelled.

But the man didn't speak or even move... He didn't so much as blink. Usually when someone's nose is broken and there's blood gushing everywhere, you'd at least be tearing up, but he wasn't... No, and this guy just looked like an ordinary passenger too. But this was weird. I was starting to get a bad feeling in my gut.

"Dante, I don't think we're dealing with an ordinary train robbery..." Gia muttered to me, gun still drawn.

I didn't want to show it, but I suddenly had a sinking feeling in my gut. He was right... "Damn..."

I turned around and began looking inside of every seat, waiting to see the bastard who was behind this, but when I did, all I saw were people. Ordinary people... And again, they weren't moving or reacting to me in any way. They were dead silent... I could barely even tell that they were breathing.

This was freaky...

"Show yourself and maybe I won't fill you full of lead!" I shouted, brows furrowed.

"You're up against two experienced mafiosos, so I wouldn't push your luck!" Gia added. "We're being very generous!"

It was faint, but giuro su Dio, I heard a man say, "Damn, I thought that was a chick," followed by a grunt of pain, as if somebody elbowed him. Gotcha...

"I know you're in here, cazzone!" I kept my finger on the trigger.

"Fucking cagacazzo, now we have to fight," I heard a different voice whisper.

I pointed my gun in the direction of those voices, but suddenly, I felt a weird, pulsating, itching sensation going up my arm and into my head, and I stumbled backwards. What the fuck...?

Just as I did so, a man jumped out from behind the front seat in the car and lunged at us. Wow... these guys really are a bunch of idiots, huh? Charging at two guys with guns while unarmed... It's like he was asking to die. I tried to raise my gun again and Gia was right behind me, but that nerve-rotting sensation hit me again and I faltered. It was like I was being hit with something invisible!

Gia raised his gun but I never heard him fire. In fact, after three seconds I glanced behind me to see him frozen with his arm held out straight, and he wasn't even blinking anymore. He wasn't moving at all. Oh, shit... He was acting like the other people on the train now!

I turned back to look at the blue-haired guy in front of me and pulled the trigger of my gun, but as I did so, that same sensation hit me again and jerked the muscles of my right arm off to the side. The bullet flew through the window and missed entirely.

"Hah! Nice shot!" the man jeered, now punching me in the face.

I groaned and stumbled backwards, falling into Gia, who still didn't react at all. Shit, shit, shit, not good... I hope he didn't hit his head. I inspected him over for a moment with concern in my eyes. I then looked up at the man in front of me and snarled before summoning my own Stand, DESTROYA.

They're in for it now.

"Shit! They're Stand users!" the blue haired guy exclaimed, I assume shouting to his partner.

"Big deal!" the partner shouted, "Finish 'em anyway!"

DESTROYA reached towards one of the seats and gripped it, turning it into a fragile, glass-like substance before I smashed it with my bare arm and picked out a dagger from the pieces. I lunged at the man but that same disorienting feeling hit me again, and this time, it stayed. My ears were ringing and my heart rate felt like it was slowing down. What the... hell? This must be one of their Stands...

DESTROYA drove a fist towards the man for me but a blue, cracked-pavement textured humanoid Stand with odd appendages and a spike on its head intercepted and blocked it. I could tell it wasn't very physically strong because of how the guy slid back significantly upon impact, but it was enough.

Gia sat up with urgency, finally able to move again. Oh, I get it now...

"So you're the coglioni who's freezing everybody up, huh?!" I tried to sound tough but that other fuckers Stand must have still been wreaking havoc on me. "Nice. If you're half as weak as your Stand, I'll put you down like a dog in no time..."

"Hah! Not if my partner's Stand has anything to do with it," he boasted. "Nocciola! Let's finish these guys and get off with the cash at the next stop!"

The other man, with dark hair, finally emerged from behind the front seat, gritting his teeth. "Why'd you say my name, dumbass?! Now these passengers'll be able to tell the cops!"

"Right... But not if we kill 'em all!"

"Are you fucking joking?!" Nocciola slapped the other guy across the back of the head. "You're as thick-headed as they come, Pompelo."

"Come on!" Pompelo exclaimed. "With my Headlock and your 9 In The Afternoon, we could end these passengers easy!"

"We're thieves, not murderers! God!"

While these two obviously inexperienced criminals bickered right in the middle of our fight, Gia and I watched for a second with dumbfounded expressions... These guys were a special kind of stupid. I still wasn't feeling well but I managed to sigh heavily.

I had DESTROYA shove Pompelo's head through a now-bloodied train window to the left, and even though he tried to escape, his jaw got in the way, so he was stuck.

"What the hell?! Is this guy nuts?! He just..." He grunted and tried to pull back, but the glass began stabbing him in the neck. "He just stuck my head through a window!" His voice was muffled and a bit hard to hear over the wind that was now ripping his voice out of his mouth.

Nocciola's eyes widened and he took a step back for only a moment before he sent his Stand after me again. "You can try to do that to me but I'll stop your heart before you can!"

This Stand was a sickening combination of obnoxious colors. Fleshy and damp, with the front of its face split open to reveal eyes the size of headlights. So this is the piece of shit that's making me feel like a piece of shit!

"Oho, I'm gonna gut you!" I growled, trying to Stand up. These guys were obviously inexperienced Stand users. There was no way theirs could withstand mine in battle.

9 In The Afternoon hit me with the disorienting pulsating sensation once more but I tried to fight through it... I needed to throw up, and my heartbeat was... I was definitely bradychardic by now and began huffing and puffing like a madman. DESTROYA picked up some of the glass from the seat it had shattered earlier and hurled it at him.

"Pompelo, use Headlock already!" Nocciola commanded.

Suddenly I was frozen in place and Gia was again too, and Niocciola dodged the glass. Fuck, fuck, fuck! They're sporadic because they don't know what they're doing! And now I... Agh!

Nocciola let out a boisterous laugh. "You really thought you two could take us on? Hard to do when you can't attack at all, huh?"

He kicked me in the jaw and I went flying backwards, but my body didn't move at all, only my location. I could feel my mouth bleeding though... I couldn't even cry out. Dammit... I should have minded my business and I wouldn't be in this damn mess in the first place! No... This is the right thing to do. We'll get through this. I won't let them hurt Gia or any other innocent person. I'm not staying on the ground. I'll fight it–!

He walked over and put his boot on my neck, blood seeping out through the side of my lip. I was almost glad I couldn't move my face because I'd probably look more panicked than I'd like to.

"Y'know," he sneered, "I thought a big, tough mafioso like you would be a better opponent, no? Too bad. I was having fun with this. I–"

"Did you get him?! I can't see!" Pompelo interrupted.

Nocciola whipped his head around. "Shut it! I was in the middle of a monologue!"

"Sorry..."

"Now, where did I leave off–"

A shot rang out in the train car and if I wasn't frozen I would have jumped. I couldn't see anything except a bullet ripping through Nocciola shoulder and blood dripping down towards me. Was that...?

Gia stood up now and pistol whipped him as he screamed out, and I heard the sickening crack of his nose breaking. Now Gia was standing before me with his back turned to me... Damn... He's never been hotter.

"What the fuck?!" Nocciola roared. "I thought Headlock froze this asshole!"

"What?!" Pompelo damn near shrieked.

Gia unloaded another two shots into the guy with no emotion on his face, aim effortless and practiced. I didn't get to see where because he fell to the ground.

"Oh, God, are you insane?! You'll kill me!" Nocciola groaned in agony.

"Wouldn't be the first time I've killed a man," Gia said, voice and hand steady as he trained his gun on him. "And I've killed for a lot less."

"Nocciola! What happened?! Did he get you?!" Pompelo asked.

"Release your Stand's ability on my partner and I won't shoot you between the eyes," Gia threatened.

"Alright, alright, geez! Put the gun down! I just came here for the cash, man!" Nocciola spat out with a pathetic whimper.

Suddenly, I was able to move again, and upon doing so, I spit out the blood in my mouth and wiped my lip with my knuckle, smearing my black lipstick. All I saw was red and I wanted the bastards to pay, but I needed to know how the hell Gia even managed to do this.

"Gia–" I held my jaw. Damn! It hurt like hell... If it wasn't for the metal I wore on it, I'm sure it'd be broken.

Gia only glanced back at me with a hint of relief in his gray-red eyes, but he quickly focused back on his target, an experienced gunman. "Good, you're okay..."

"How the hell did this guy escape Headlock?!" Pompelo again tried to pull himself out of the window but he failed once more.

"You can't see, and you didn't know where you were aiming," Gia began. "It didn't affect me at all, but I pretended to freeze so that your partner here would lower his defenses enough to get close to me..."

"God... dammit..." Nocciola rasped, clutching his wounds.

I stood over him, baring my bloody teeth in a grimace. "I should break your damn neck... This was a stupid game you and your friend played."

"Man, take the money we stole! Just don't kill us!" Pompelo pleaded.

I was getting tired of their voices. I would shut them up. But first, I needed this dick, Nocciola, to stay alive long enough til we got to the next stop and the cops could pick them up, so I called on DESTROYA again.

"DESTROYA!"

My green and white Stand appeared and its hand soared down upon the frightened man like a falcon. He flinched and closed his eyes, preparing for pain, but all that happened was DESTROYA pressing his hands to his wounds and stopping the bleeding by turning his flesh into glass.

After a moment, Nocciola opened his eyes again and looked up at me with a bewildered expression. "You... stopped the bleeding? Why?"

"Need you alive so the cops can deal with the damage you've done. I'm not gonna stick around long enough to give all these people their money back," I explained, hands in my pockets.

Gia nodded. "Good thinking..."

"Wait, the cops?! Oh, fuck! We're done for, man!" Pompelo put his hands on the window, trying to push at it.

I closed my eyes for a moment, a frustrated expression on my face before I finally snapped. I was tired of his whining.

"Shut the hell up and sit still!" I marched over to him and yanked his head out from the window, glass shattering everywhere, bloody scrapes scrawled out across all sides of his face and head. I then dragged him to the seat over and jammed his head through the next window as he wailed. I didn't care if the civilians saw this. I was doing them a favor.

"Release the passengers from your Stand's ability! Now!" I demanded.

"But if they–"

I cut him off by pulling his head out again and throwing him into the aisle with his friend.

"You're bad at following directions!" I snapped. "DESTROYA, teach him a lesson!"

DESTROYA began pummeling the man with a flurry of direct punches. Over and over, like rapid fire from a machine gun, a blur of white and green at this point.

"ROYA, ROYA, ROYA, ROYA, ROYA, ROYA, ROYA, ROYA, ROYA, ROYA, ROYA, ROYA!"

The whole time I watched with narrowed eyes, my hands in my pockets and a bit of a self-satisfied grin on my face. This was always the best part.

"ROYA!"

With one final uppercut, Pompelo flew across the train car, blood spraying from his mouth. I took heavy steps toward him, DESTROYA floating off to the side, behind my shoulder.

"Idiots like you piss me the hell off, you know that? You can't seem to follow directions the first time around..."

With that, the passengers were suddenly able to move again, and most, if not all immediately began panicking. Gia summoned Boy Division again and stuck his gun and the one I dropped back into the bag, then did away with it. Niocciola had passed out from blood loss already, and Pompelo was twitching on the ground and out of commission, so our job here was done.

Gia ran up behind me now and tugged at my hand in order to turn me around. He came off as calm but I could recognize the concern in his eyes.

"How are you? How's your jaw?" he asked, reaching up to inspect it.

I winced and held his wrist, gently pushing his hand back down. "I'll be fine. It's not broken. Just hurts like hell. What about you?"

"I'm okay."

"Good..."

I wanted to scoop him up and tell him how thankful I was for his quick thinking but I couldn't... Not here in front of these strangers... If it weren't for him I don't know what would be happening to me right now.

At the next stop we got off, even though it wasn't the right station. We had to sneak out of the train because the cops were already waiting there for the two assholes we stomped. We weren't too far from home, so we decided to go into the city and hail a taxi instead.

We were done with trains for the day, anyway.

 

-- Chapter End --

⚡️⚡️⚡️ 

Notes:

Listen to Hit the Floor by Linkin Park!

Chapter 20: Doin' Time

Summary:

New friends can be a little hard to get along with...

Althaia's perspective

Destination: Città di Siena, Italia- 2001

 

Since my spectacular failure at the last training session, and once everyone had realized that I didn't know jack about shit, the guys had taken to trying to teach me things at any chance they got. Some were nice and helpful about it, like Prosciutto and Formaggio. Some were condescending and mean-spirited, like Illuso and Ghiaccio. Melone was extremely informative but easily went on tangents and was too touchy for my liking. Pesci didn't have much to offer in terms of guidance because he was in a similar situation as me. And finally, Risotto was... a mixed bag. It really depended on his mood what type of teacher he could be.

However, with weapons I was still quite unsure. I could handle a blade, sure, but guns still made me nervous if I had no one to guide me, and the team couldn't have that. So, I supposed someone decided to do something about it.

I was startled awake this morning by a rhythmic pounding on my door. I gasped and shot up out of bed, my glazed over eyes wide and unseeing for a few moments. I felt like I had just sprinted a few meters my heart was beating so fast. My throat was dry and my voice raw from a lack of water over the course of the night, but I still managed to croak out a reply.

"H–hello? Who is it?"

"Ghiaccio. Get up and get dressed. We're going somewhere."

One of my short, green brows quirked upward as I stared at the door for a moment, confused.

"Did you hear me?!" he shouted.

"Ah, yeah! Hold on..."

What the hell did he want from me? He and I hadn't spent that much time together, to be honest, so I was rather intrigued by this whole deal.

I had left my braids in for the night, so they looked a little ratty but passable, but at least I didn't have to worry about my hair this morning. I instead opted for simply clothing myself in my usual uniform, ditching my silky pajamas and tossing them back onto my bed.

"God, how long does it take you to get ready? Would you hurry up?" Ghiaccio grumbled from the other side of the door.

"Give me a second!" I huffed, looking over myself in the mirror one last time before rushing to the door and opening it.

When I found him standing there, he had his arms crossed over his chest and one of his red shoes was tapping on the ground impatiently. He had his usual annoyed grimace plastered on his face. For a man with cotton-candy blue hair he was not whimsical or sweet in the slightest. What a drag...

"You sleep pretty late for a doctor, y'know. Doctors are supposed to wake up early," he criticized.

"I don't work at a hospital. I have no reason to wake up early," I replied, my expression hinting at my slight annoyance.

"You should get used to it. The rest of us wake up pretty early. Set a damn alarm."

"Did you wake me up just to nag me or?"

He rolled his eyes before explaining himself. He always talked like he was three seconds away from a breakdown. "We're going on a 'road trip', so to speak. But not for fun. You're terrible with weapons and I have a solution. I know a guy, so we're going to meet up with him so he can train you."

My face shifted a bit from sleepy disinterest to curiosity. "Really now? You care that much about me to do this?"

"Tch. Don't flatter yourself. I want to bring you up to speed so we can stop wasting our time trying to teach you basic concepts."

My brows dropped again, my voice dry and sarcastic. "Wow, you shouldn't have."

"Come on. We're taking my car." He turned towards the stairs.

"You're letting me into your Miata?!"

"Yes, but I have rules." He stopped in his tracks at the top of the steps and held a finger up, damn near getting in my face with an abrasive tone. "No food or drink allowed, I choose the music, and none of that annoying, bubbly chatter of yours. Got it?"

I gestured in defeat, shrinking into myself a bit. "Fine, geez. I got it..."

He was so intense...

I didn't even get to eat before we got in his red Miata. It was a nice car, for sure. At least on the outside... On the inside, the dashboard was dented and scuffed from– what I could only assume to be –past outbursts. That was the usual with him... Hot headed, angry, particular, and extremely opinionated. I winced a bit when I looked over the damage done to this poor, beautiful car, getting into the passenger seat. He quickly got into the driver's seat and started the ignition, not bothering with a seatbelt. I buckled my own and side-eyed him, appalled by his lack of safety.

"Y'know, Ghiaccio, you should really wear a seatbelt. They save lives..." I began.

He whipped his head towards me, voice already grating. "Don't you think I know that? Seatbelts reduce the risk of fatal injury by forty-five percent. What do you think I am, an idiot?" He quickly buckled up after that.

I let out a deep breath and faced forward, not even trying to entertain him. Geez... This would be a long car ride. Maybe I could get away with some small talk if he let me, learn more about him since we were both stuck in here...

For the first twenty minutes of the ride, it was dead silent, save for the sounds of the engine and the world around us, muffled by the exterior of the car. I occupied myself with looking out the window, elbow leaned on the armrest of the door. Even though I was following all of his rules and being completely silent, when I would pass a fleeting glance towards Ghiaccio, I could see that his knuckles were near-white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel and if looks could kill, every single thing he saw beyond his glasses would have been obliterated. I don't know how to get an opening with him... I want so badly to bond and connect with everyone, but with him, he was a ticking time bomb. I wanted to ask him what his problem was. Try to figure him out. But such a rude question would only be met with an explosive response.

By now, forty-five minutes had passed and not only was I starving and thirsty, but I was bored out of my mind. In order to possibly quell my stomach's near-noisy begging, I distracted myself by quietly mumbling a song under my breath; Sublime's 'Doin' Time'.

"Summer time... the livin's easy... Hm-hm-hm-hm with Ras M.G.... Hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm that we're... qualified to represent the L.B.C.... G, me, and Louie, we-"

"Stop!" Ghiaccio barked, practically seething. "Can't you be quiet for once?!"

I was a bit startled, but I ultimately muttered back a grumpy response. "Whatever. I'm hungry and I'm trying to distract myself."

"Oh, right..." And just like that, his mood simmered. "I guess you didn't get a chance to eat. It'd make sense why you're hungry... Had you woken up earlier we could have avoided this but, fine. I'll get you something to eat. What do you want?"

My eyes widened a bit. "R-really? You'll get me something to eat? Just like that?"

"Yeah. I just said that. Were you even listening?"

"Uhm, yeah... Sorry. I'm just surprised is all."

"Why?"

I paused for a moment before cringing slightly... Did I really have to say it? "Well, I just... didn't think you'd care if I was hungry is all..."

He glanced at me a bit, his shoulders tense, before his eyes went back to the road. "I don't care, per se. All I'm saying is that it makes sense. Besides, I don't need you distracted by hunger while you're training."

"Oh..." I smiled a bit. "Sounds like you do care about me."

"God, shut it with all the sappy crap. What do you want to eat?"

I thought for a moment and shrugged. "Whatever we pass by next food-wise."

He grit his teeth and gripped the steering wheel harder. "No. I want you to choose. A type of food, a specific ristorante, I don't care. Just choose."

"Why?"

"Because, what if we go to the next ristorante and once we walk in, take the time to sit down, and look at the menu, you decide that you actually don't like that place and want to go somewhere else? By then, we've wasted time and gas. When all of that could have been avoided in the first place if you had just chosen a place that you know you'd want to eat at."

I took in his rambling for a moment, a bit of concern etched on my face. "Ghiaccio, do you always think that way?" I asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Like, three steps ahead, thinking out every scenario possible and then choosing to believe the most inconvenient one will come true. Do you always think that way?"

"Yes. Because it's usually true."

"But I really mean it when I say we can go anywhere. I'm not a picky eater."

A bitter growl rumbled in his throat, and he spoke through clenched teeth. "Just. Choose."

"Hm, well... What about you? Where would you wanna eat?"

He was silent for a moment before glancing at me again. "You're... asking me?"

"Yeah. What if I want you to choose? I'll be happy either way. I want you to be happy."

"You want me to be happy? Me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

He sighed a bit and shrugged. "I dunno. I figured that you weren't exactly my biggest fan... Not that it matters to me, anyway."

"Why assume that?" I was a little hurt by the accusation. I held no ill-will towards him at all.

"I don't know... I guess I think everyone feels that way about me."

For once, Ghiaccio wasn't the loud-mouthed, brazen, harsh man he usually was. He seemed... pensive and almost regretful. I shook my head and clicked my tongue.

"That's not true. Those guys think about you like family. Sure, sometimes family gets on each other's nerves, but at the end of the day, they still love each other, right?" I reassured.

"But everyone gets on my nerves... They tell me it's because I'm too reactive, I'm too literal, I'm too sensitive, but if the world was less annoying, less contradictory... If the world made more sense, I'd be a calmer person."

I thought for a moment before deciding to ask a question. "Do you often feel like the world is much brighter, louder, smellier, and generally overstimulating for you than it is others?"

I saw a side of him begin to come out that I never had before. He was... agreeable now. He almost seemed content with the conversation at hand. "Yeah... Actually, all the time. It's part of what makes me angry."

"Mhm. And I know you take things quite literally, are fond of routines and get upset about change, do a lot of repetitive behaviors, and miss a lot of social cues..."

He raised a brow at me. "What are you getting at?"

"Nothing."

He quickly switched to his more snappy side again. "Come on. We're both smart enough to know what you're getting at. You're a doctor. You're describing symptoms. So out with it."

I sighed wearily and shook my head... Damn, I really dug myself a grave. "Sorry, it really isn't my place... I shouldn't have asked." I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to fix my gaze on the objects passing by my window.

"You're testing my patience, Doctor."

"Pretty easy thing to do, huh?" I tried to joke, but he shot me a warning glare. "S–sorry..."

"Althaia," he gritted my name out.

"Fine! Fine! You show signs of autismo. I'm not a psychologist or a psychiatrist, though, so–"

"Hmph," he let out a bit of an amused chuckle, shaking his head. "Have you been studying me or something?"

I was taken aback, to say the least. The cold sweat that was forming on the back of my neck subsided for now. I thought he'd chew me out for sure. "I mean... Kinda... I've been trying to get a read on you."

Ghiaccio sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm already diagnosed. So bravissimo, I guess."

I did a double take. "Wait, seriously?? How long ago?"

"About a year ago."

"Did you see a doctor, or–?"

"Risotto diagnosed me."

My whole body tensed up and my jaw nearly fell into my lap. "Come again?"

"Yeah, you're not the only professional in the house," he teased in his usual condescending manner. "Risotto is qualified to be a practicing psychologist. What? Did he not tell you?"

I wore a bewildered expression and stared ahead, feeling pinned to my seat... Since when...? "W–what...? Why wouldn't he tell me that?"

"He can be pretty closed off. Besides, maybe in his professional opinion he diagnosed you as annoying and decided not to say anything."

I looked down at my boots, a million thoughts running through my mind. How strange... I wished I had known sooner. That was amazing... "Damn... Maybe he really doesn't like me."

"Gah! Would you quit saying that? It doesn't make any damn sense!"

I looked back over at him again. "What?"

"He tolerates you, fine. But then he goes out of his way to comfort you when you're a terrible shot and teaches you how to shoot, how to fight. You guys are in his office for hours sometimes doing paperwork shit... Not only that, but he's starting to let you boss him around a bit, y'know? If he hated you, he'd have thrown your ass out on the curb."

I never thought of it like that before... Huh... I smiled a bit and looked at him.

"You're not so bad to talk to. It's actually kind of refreshing..."

His almost beady eyes widened before his forehead crinkled in disbelief. "The hell are you saying to me??"

"Yeah. I was scared of you but now I'm not."

He tapped his finger on the steering wheel. "You should still be scared of me. Those are fighting words."

"Hm, nah, don't think I will be," I teased, a wide smile on my green lips.

His cheeks reddened in hue a bit as he tried his hardest to put on an angry facade. "You're an idiota, you know that? A fucking moron. You're alone in a car with the most unstable member of La Squadra and you go and say something like that."

"'Cause I mean it. When you're calm, you're nice to talk to."

"I'm not used to compliments... They feel... gross. I don't like them," he complained, the awkwardness he was feeling finally settling on his face.

"Well, that's just all the more reason for me to compliment you. So, you get used to it and start to like it."

"Are you trying to piss me off?" Though his words sounded like they should be a threat, they lacked any of their usual fire. Instead, his tone was replaced by something unconvincing and hollow. More confused than anything.

"Maybe..."

He huffed and rolled his eyes, but his grip on the wheel was becoming more relaxed. It was nice to see. "You never did tell me where you wanted to eat."

"Yeah, 'cause I asked you to choose."

"Oh, right..."

The car was silent once again as he thought, watching the signs as we passed. He then smiled a bit and nodded.

"I know where to go."

 

*

 

He had stopped at a small, roadside family-owned ristorante along the highway, and when we parked, I finally got out and stretched my legs. He locked the car before crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for me to finish. This time, he wasn't rushing me. We finally went inside, and I thought we were going to sit down, but there wasn't much room for that in the cramped place, so we ordered it to go. While we waited for our food, I occupied myself with looking around the shop, meanwhile, Ghiaccio was responding to his phone.

Small places like this that are filled with hard work, history, rustic tradition, and love are nice... I enjoyed the atmosphere. It reminded me of home a bit.

Once our food was finished, we collected it and headed back to the car, but I waited behind, my lip twisted into pondering manner.

"I thought you said no food in the car," I finally said.

"Just... don't open it til we pull over at a rest stop," he replied, getting into the car again.

I quickly followed suit, and since I was the passenger, I was made to hold the hot food, which, had it not been for my corduroy skirt, would have burned my skin.

He drove along the road for a little while until we pulled off on an exit for a rest stop, quickly finding the side for non-commercial vehicles and making our way to a picnic table under the shade of some trees. Once I got out of the car, I brought the food with me and set it down on the nearest table with Ghiaccio close behind me. I turned to my right and saw a cute, bushy-tailed red squirrel at the base of a tree only a few meters in front of me. I gasped a bit, a big, goofy smile on my face.

Ghiaccio tensed up, turning his head around in a mild panic. "What?! What is it?! Are we under attack?"

I jogged away towards the squirrel, cooing, "Lookit him!"

Ghiaccio finally saw it and let out a loud, dramatic, frustrated groan, sitting down and opening our to-go boxes to see which one belonged to him. "Idiota..."

Once I got too close, the squirrel scampered up the tree and I watched it go with my hands on my hips. I then turned back and called out to him. "Hey, if I caught a squirrel could I bring it home?"

"A squirrel? In my car? Over my squirrel-disease-ridden dead body," he responded, already eating.

"That's not a thing," I said, coming back to the table. "I would know."

"Just eat so we can get on our way."

"Okay," I chirped.

We began to dig into our light meals, chatting idly, which I know was a bit of a challenge for him. Along the way, I found out some of his interests; that he liked to read, collect rocks and bottle caps, and that he enjoyed ice skating, which was wholly exciting to me.

"No way! Me too!" I exclaimed, a beaming grin on my face.

He even returned my smile. "Really? Are you any good?"

I almost wanted to laugh... 'Am I any good?' I wish I could brag on the professional athlete I used to be. "Uh, yeah. I'd say I'm pretty damn good."

"Not as good as me, I bet," he joked with his chest puffed out in pride.

"Come winter, we'll have a race. Whoever loses has to wear a really cheesy sweater on Christmas Day."

"You're on. I hope you've got a spare one, 'cause you'll need it."

"Okay," I drawled out in a mocking tone, "whatever you say..."

We laughed together before shifting the conversation again to some of my med-school stories, which I loved telling. For a moment I forgot that I had a purpose for being out here besides having a nice lunch with my housemate. I think Ghiaccio forgot too at some point, because we stayed much longer than our meals had. I didn't bring it to his attention, though. I was just soaking up the pleasant morning atmosphere and indulging in conversation with this man who, up until now, I had thought to be a simple ball of red-hot fury.

But he wasn't. He was so much more than that. He was knowledgeable, pensive, curious, intelligent, secretly pretty playful, and a huge nerd. He was a collector at heart, which was nice.

And now that I knew he was autistic, I had a better idea of ways to bond with him.

 

*

 

After a while I wandered my way to a bench overlooking a small valley that led to some forested hills up ahead. I sat down, just staring in awe at the sight, below the safety of the shade but still able to enjoy the clear blue sky and soft, fluffy clouds. I wonder how much more peaceful life would have been if I took all my money and ran away to live in the woods... I don't think I could make it being so lonely, though.

I was lost in thought, trying to take a snapshot of the whole scene in my mind before I saw the white blur of Ghiaccio's coat in my peripheral vision, but I didn't look up at him. He sat down on the bench next to me but bent his knees, hugging them to his chest. He too looked onward, a calm expression on his usually sour face. The color of the sky matched his curly hair. It was nice... For such a scathing man, his hair was such a calm color.

"It's nice out here," he remarked, seeming completely content.

I glanced at him now, pleasantly surprised. This was the calmest I had ever heard his voice. He sounded so gentle... Almost like a completely different person.

I let out a soft, amused breath from my nose and nodded once, looking back at the scenery. "It is."

We were silent for a while, letting the ambient sounds of nature pass over us and wash away whatever troubling thoughts that may have been plaguing us. I can't remember the last time I just sat and enjoyed nature like this. It was healing. Maybe I should take Ghiaccio out for more quiet moments like this. I think it'd be good for him. For me, too.

I took a soft breath before breaking the silence. "Are we friends?"

He took a few moments before replying. "Sure."

Another silence fell between us, but this time, I moved a bit closer to him and sat with my legs crisscrossed on the bench. I then leaned to the side and carefully rested my head on his shoulder. I expected him to maybe tense up and recoil or jump back and scold me, but he didn't. No...

He gently rested the side of his head on top of mine, still quiet.

My friend, Ghiaccio... It was nice to finally say it.

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

Listen to Doin' Time by Sublime! Also... it's very hard to write allistic characters as an autistic person. Like, all of your characters tend to have a bit of the 'tism in them because that's just how your brain experiences the world and the only experience you can create and view your characters with. It's just how your brain is...

Chapter 21: The Two Gs

Summary:

Sometimes all it takes is a patient teacher!

Gia's perspective

Città di Siena, Italia- 2001

 

Any minute now... Any minute now, they would show up and I could start on the reason I drove all the way out here in the first place. I was parked inside a small, empty field, watching the twine-like branches on the nearby trees sway in the soft breeze. Today would honestly be an exceptionally calm day. Nice weather, some basic weapons training, and seeing an old friend. And after that, I'd go back home and see my team, maybe have dinner.

But I think I nearly forgot who I was talking about, because there's nothing calm about him.

I was leaning against the hood of my car, arms crossed over my chest, just taking in the sounds of nature around me, when I heard a motor draw nearer and suddenly come to a halt at the other end of the field. It was a bright red Miata. It was him.

I stood up straight and began walking, trying to meet them in the middle of the field. That familiar light-blue, curly hair came into my line of vision from out the driver's side of the car, and an unfamiliar green-haired woman followed suit. Interesting...

"Sorry we're late, Gia. We had to stop for food!" Ghiaccio yelled to me from across the field.

I simply nodded and waited for them to get closer. While I did, I could hear them having a quiet conversation with each other, which sort of made me roll my eyes but also laugh at the same time.

"Ooo! She's pretty! I didn't know it'd be a girl training me," the woman whispered.

"Gia's a man," Ghiaccio grumbled in response.

"Oh!" She glanced at me, wearing a slightly embarrassed expression. "Oh, sorry..."

Once they finally met me halfway, the introductions really began.

Ghiaccio gestured to the perky-looking woman beside him. "This is Althaia. She's the one that needs your expertise."

"Hi!" she beamed. "It's so nice to meet you! I can't wait to get started today!" She reached out to shake my hand, a wide grin on her face.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm certain that by the end of the day, you'll have no problem handling yourself with a weapon," I replied, shaking her hand.

"Wow! Your voice is super deep!" she remarked with a sort of laugh, which made me grin a bit from beneath my mask.

"I hear that a lot..."

Ghiaccio then held his hand up in my direction, and in a swift, practiced manner, we partook in an intricate handshake. "It's nice to see you. How've you been?"

"Good, never better, really. You seem calmer than usual."

"I guess I am..."

"Alright, well, I'll go ahead and get started with Althaia. I'll talk to you later."

"Sounds good. I'll be in my car."

With that, Ghiaccio nodded to me before turning back in the direction he came from. Althaia was all who was left now, seemingly awaiting instruction with an almost nervous anticipation. I could sense the strain in her smile.

"Take a deep breath. You'll be fine. I'm not going to be impatient with you," I said, my voice slightly muffled.

"Oh..." She let out a sigh of relief. "That's... That's good to hear. Sorry. I guess I'm just anxious. The first time I shot a gun it was–"

"I know. Ghiaccio told me. Though, I'm sure he exaggerated a bit."

"Hah, really? Perfect..."

"But don't worry. It won't go like that this time. I'm looking to make this a constructive experience for you."

She seemed almost shaken by my disposition. "Thank you, Gia... Really."

"Don't mention it. Now, let's go ahead and get started." I summoned my Stand, Boy Division, and I knew she was a Stand user by the simple fact that her eyes widened with curiosity upon my doing so. I then retrieved two basic pistols and some ammunition, setting it all on the ground. I sat down and gestured for her to do the same.

"Was that your Stand?" she asked, sitting crisscross and watching the weapons with almost childlike wonder in her eyes.

"Yes. I can retrieve and store almost any conventional weapon thanks to it, and that includes ammo," I confirmed. "For now, so that you're more familiar with guns and therefore feel more confident when holding them, I'm just going to teach you about their parts and how to load one. We'll start slow."

"Okay!" she chirped, nodding.

 

*

 

We spent a while going over what makes up a handgun and how to prepare one for battle, and I answered any of the questions she had, which... there seemed to be an almost endless amount of. But I didn't mind. She was kind and respectful, and most of all, she really did seem like she was listening and retaining the information well. I didn't find curiosity or enthusiasm annoying. I'd consider myself a pretty patient guy, actually. Which was good because Dante was not patient at all. That's why we made a good team.

Eventually, it became the more hands-on portion of the afternoon, where I'd actually be teaching her to aim and shoot. This, of course, was more exciting, but I could tell that this is where that unease of hers was stemming from. Before I could fully help her, I wanted to analyze her process.

I handed her a loaded gun with the safety on and she looked at me like I was crazy, but I shook my head and sighed.

"You're not firing yet. I just need to see how you prepare to shoot."

"Oh... Alright..." She looked down at the gun for a moment before swallowing thickly and raising it.

She had two hands on it in about the right positions, legs spread far enough apart... But she needed to bend her knees a bit and duck her head slightly in order to aim.

"Right... This is pretty good! You've clearly done this before," I encouraged, coming towards her.

"Really?!"

"Yeah, but I'm just going to adjust you a little."

"Okay!"

"You're going to want to bend your knees slightly. When you're shooting, you don't want to lock your legs. This will help with recoil and being able to move quickly after firing if you have to."

"I can do that." She then bent her knees just a bit.

"Good, good. And now, when you aim, I want you to duck your head in order to line your eyes up with the sights, okay?"

She looked at me kind of funny. "Huh?"

I chuckled and raised my hand, gently touching the front and back sights. "These notches right here. They'll help you aim."

"Oh, alright. I see what you mean now..." She then began to do so.

"I want you to take aim at that tree a few meters ahead of us," I instructed, pointing at it. "Can you do that?"

She was silent for a moment, focusing on aiming, her tongue sticking out a bit as she did so. It was funny... Reminded me of how hard it used to be to do this years ago.

"I think I've got it," she said.

"Good. Now fire."

"What?!" She nearly looked up, but I stopped her.

"Hey, hey, don't break your aim. You'll be alright, just fire."

"But I– What about the recoil? I'll fly back like last time!"

"You won't, Althaia. Not in this position. You're okay. Just pull the trigger and keep your eyes open. You can do this." My voice was calm and steady, and I kept my hand on her back for a moment as I tried to talk her down.

"But I–"

"Just trust me. Please? You've come so far, you're so close."

She fell into another silence, and I could see her finger slide onto the trigger. "O–okay... I trust you..."

And with that, she pulled the trigger. Her shoulders tensed up at the sound and I could see her gritting her teeth now, but I had no reaction at all. I was used to it. However, and as no surprise to me at all, she was completely fine. It took her a moment to recover, but she slowly lowered her gun and looked up to see that her bullet did in fact hit the tree.

"I... I did it..." she muttered, voice drenched in awe.

I smiled a bit, though my mask hid it. "See what I meant? You did just fine."

"I did it! Without anyone holding me! I did it!"

"Right, so do it again," I said.

"Huh?"

"Shoot the tree again. You've got this now."

"Oh! Okay... I'll try..."

I watched her steady herself, get into position, aim again, and finally, that sweet, sweet clap from the gun exploded into the air again. She was learning faster than Ghiaccio made it seem like she would... But he's always been prone to exaggerating people's stupidity.

She looked back at me, and I nodded. "Empty a whole round. You're ready now. Just do rapid-fire."

She took a deep breath and again did exactly that, and without faltering. That nervous energy she was teeming with earlier was now replaced by excitement. It was nice to see...

 

*

 

We went over a few different types of basic guns that she may run into throughout her job, as well as some rapid 'aim-fire-dash' drills. It was slow at first, because upon the introduction of something new, she became hesitant again, but the more laps she completed, the faster it went than last time, and I knew she was giving it her all. I was proud of her; she was a great student. By the end of the day, I could confidently say that she was ready to practice all on her own.

After putting all of the weapons and ammo back into Boy Division, we stood next to the tree she had shot earlier, counting the bullet holes. I wanted her to see up close that she did this all on her own and that she was ready for anything.

"So, Gia, how old are you?" she asked, trailing her finger along the bark of the tree.

"Eighteen," I replied.

"Eighteen?! Woah! You're really calm and wise for eighteen. With how you taught, I would have assumed you'd be like... I dunno, my age."

"Then how old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"Hah! You're even older than my team leader..."

"I'm not that old!"

"No, no, you're not. My apologies. It's just that the age range of Passione members is so vast... It's always been strange to me."

"I guess you're right."

We were silent for a moment, looking down at the ground before she spoke again.

"How do you know Ghiaccio?"

I looked up at the branches above us, recalling the memories in my mind. "Oh... Hm. We were new recruits in the same area, I guess... Before we were placed on any respective team, we stuck together. It was hard to separate from him after we were assigned to different leaders, but we still kept in touch."

She nodded, listening along with a sympathetic expression. "That must have been really hard, but I'm glad you still have each other..."

I nodded back in response.

"Was he always this... hot-headed?"

I laughed a little and swept one of my bangs out of my eyes. "It used to be much worse. Trust me. The only reason we survived as no-name low-ranks is because his bad temper scared people off... Really, I have him to thank for being here right now."

I looked off into the distance, my eyes meeting his signature red car with a nostalgic gleam in them... I remember we used to live in that thing too. Althaia must have sensed my longing because she nudged me out of my thoughts and wore a knowing expression.

"Go talk to him," she said. "I'll wait here."

I didn't really know what to say, but I looked back at her before nodding and breaking away from the tree, walking across the field. It was nearing evening now and the air was getting cooler. The crickets were starting to come out and begin their nocturnal symphony. I felt almost years younger when memories of our year together in the past brought everything up again... I don't know why, and I don't remember when I started doing it, but the next thing I knew, I was jogging, then sprinting towards the car, like I was a child again. Like I was running from the cops again with him by my side just like we used to.

When I finally made it, I stood outside Ghiaccio's driver's-side door, breathing a bit heavily under my mask. When he rolled the window down, he looked at me a bit strangely from behind his glasses, eyeing me analytically.

"What's your problem?" he asked. "Why'd you come running over here?"

"Nothing, nothing, sorry... I just... Althaia and I were done, so I thought that..." I looked down a bit, trying to force the words out. "I thought that maybe you and I could catch up for a little while before you headed back home."

I expected him to bark at me for being so nostalgic, maybe even tell me to grow up and leave certain things in the past, but he didn't. No, to my surprise, he got out of the car and leaned against the side of it.

"Sure," he said with a shrug.

"Really?"

"Yeah... It's been a while. Honestly, it'd be nice. Besides, you make me want to rip my hair out less than the idiots I live with back in Firenze."

I chuckled softly and came to his side, leaning against the car as well. "How's life as a hitman been treating you?"

"Fine... It's our low season again, which means less cash, but ever since Althaia joined, we've been worrying about money less and less."

"Really? How so?"

"Apparently she's rich or something." He rolled his eyes. "I don't care, as long as we make it til the summer."

I nodded and watched the grass at our feet, listening to the sounds of the nearby city die down as the day began to come to a close. I went over something in my mind for a minute, something that I had always been meaning to ask him. Since he seemed calm today, I told myself I'd finally do it.

"Hey, Ghia..." I began.

"What?"

"Do you ever sort of miss how simple life was when it was just the two of us?" I stared ahead, avoiding looking at his face. I didn't want to know if it was disapproving yet.

"I guess so... I don't miss living in my car or having nothing to my name... But yeah, it was simpler. I miss you, if that's what you're asking."

My eyes widened and I actually looked at him now. There was no hint of upset on his features at all. "Really?"

"Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I won't..." I looked forward again before reaching up and squeezing his shoulder pretty hard. He always preferred something like that over light touches. "But we should hangout more..."

"I agree..."

I, again, couldn't stop myself from smiling. It was nice to hear.

"How's your face feeling after all these years?"

My smile quickly faded. "Oh... It's fine. Still a bit hard to move at times, but the pain is mostly gone. I don't think about it as much as I used to."

"Do you ever think you'll stop wearing that mask?"

I thought for a moment before shaking my head. "I dunno... It's sort of become a part of my identity now."

"More than your own face is part of your identity?"

I huffed. "It's hard to explain. I just don't feel like answering a bunch of questions."

"No need. If someone asks you about it, just threaten to kill them. That's what I'd do, anyway."

"I know that's what you'd do." I laughed a bit.

He joined in with me before patting my back. "You'll be fine. I think you worry too much about what people think."

"You do too."

"That's why I'm speaking from experience, dipshit. I'm not just gonna talk out of my ass about something serious like this if I didn't know what the hell I was saying, alright? God..." he spouted off before removing his glasses and rubbing his face. "Sorry. I've just been pretty calm today and I guess I have a limit before I go back to my usual mood."

"You'll get better... Besides, I'm used to it, I'm not put off by it. When I hear that edge in your voice it... almost feels like home," I reassured, looked up at him now. His fair complexion and bright hair looked so pretty against the dusky, lilac sky. "It's just... you."

He put his glasses back on and stared at me for a moment before his cheeks went red and he shoved me away pretty roughly, but it only made me stumble briefly and laugh.

"Shut the fuck up, you idiot! Don't say sappy, nauseating mush like that to me ever again! You piss me off, talking about stupid shit like my voice! Knock it off!" he ranted, the etchings of anger lines on his face coming out again.

I nodded and closed my eyes, smiling, though I was glad he couldn't see it. "Fine, sorry..."

"Now get the hell out of here. You've got people waiting up for you," he muttered with a bite in his voice, shooing me away. "When you pass her, tell Althaia to come back to the car."

"Alright, I will. It was nice seeing you, Ghia," I agreed, stepping forward and trying not to laugh. "I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, almost growling.

He's hardly changed at all...

 

-- Chapter End --

💼💼💼

Notes:

I want to be very clear that Gia and Ghiaccio were NEVER lovers, just friends. In the story, Gia is presently 18 and Ghiaccio is 21.

Chapter 22: LSE Chat Room 1 (Bonus)

Summary:

This is just a fun filler "chapter" of La Squadra in an AIM chat room lol

[Logging into LSE Chat Room...]

 

Dr_Donna: Sooo this is the chat room, huh?

Master_Of_Puppets: Yes. If you need to get into contact with the rest of the team and we're separated, this is where you'd go

Dr_Donna: Your username is funny LOL

Master_Of_Puppets: Shut up. I chose it when I was 18

69_DaddyMel_69: Buongiorno everyone

Dr_Donna: Melone what the hell is your username?!

Larimar: I TOLD HIM TO CHANGE IT SO MANY TIMES ITS COMPLETELY IDIOTIC AND UNBECOMING OF A MAFIOSO

Dr_Donna: Hi Ghia ^_^

Larimar: Hello.

69_DaddyMel_69: I like my username I think it's funny

Larimar: WELL I DONT

No1Pro: Turn your caps lock off.

Larimar: Whatever.

Dr_Donna: OMG hiiii Pro :3

No1Pro: Hey. Welcome to the chat room.

Topballer2weedlover: hey guys what's up

Dr_Donna: Who the hell is this?? LMFAO

Topballer2weedlover: it's Formaggio lmao

Dr_Donna: LOL hey!!

xXPrettyBoyXx: Why are we talking in here?

Dr_Donna: Illuso??

xXPrettyBoyXx: Yeah

No2Pes: Hello everybody!

Dr_Donna: Hi Pesci! You're matching names with Prosciutto? That's cute LOL :D

No2Pes: I didn't know what to name myself here so I just copied him

Master_Of_Puppets: Illuso, we're talking here because Belladonna had to be introduced to the chat room since we're going to start spending more time apart due to missions

Dr_Donna: I'm gonna miss you guys if I go :(

Larimar: Missions are part of the job.

No1Pro: You'd never be going alone, anyway. You're meant to be partnered with someone.

Dr_Donna: Oh that makes me feel better...

Topballer2weedlover: yeah you can stick with me and shadow me for my missions unless someone else specifically needs ya

xXPrettyBoyXx: Maybe partnering with Althaia will make your stand like one-percent more useful lmao

Topballer2weedlover: not so useless when I shrink all of your hair products down and stuff them into cracks in the floorboards

69_DaddyMel_69: Aw how cute, a lover's quarrel

Larimar: SHUT IT MELONE

No1Pro: Watch the caps.

69_DaddyMel_69: Ghiaccio wants to kiss me so bad it makes him look stupid lol

xXPrettyBoyXx: You guys are idiots lmao

Master_Of_Puppets: I hear something in the other room...

No2Pes: What? What do you mean Risotto?

Topballer2weedlover: doesn't take a genius to guess

69_DaddyMel_69: h HELP nn heldknssnxu 1 ;

Dr_Donna: HELP HOW DO I SEPARATE THEM IF GHIACCIO IS TRYING TO KILL HIM?

69_DaddyMel_69: ushejsiiUhjjh

No1Pro: I try to pull them apart. Or give Ghiaccio something else to bite down on. Like a dog.

Topballer2weedlover: there's a big stick in my room if you need it

No2Pes: I'm glad I'm not there!

Master_Of_Puppets: Hold on Althaia. Don't touch them, I'm on my way

xXPrettyBoyXx: God I wish I was there to see Althaia try to tear them apart lmao

Dr_Donna: ITS NOT FUNNY IM SCARED!! (ToT)

Master_Of_Puppets: I've just barricaded Ghiaccio in his room so he can calm down. No one talk to him

69_DaddyMel_69: I almost died I think. Marsala would have had to plan my funeral

M: Hey... (*>ω<*)

Dr_Donna: MARSALA???

No1Pro: Wait, how did you do that?

Master_Of_Puppets: Marsala?

M: I can see everything that happens in the Passione network you know...

xXPrettyBoyXx: Uh hey Mar

M: Your name is so stupid, Illuso (>▽<) LMFAO

xXPrettyBoyXx: Well yours is BORING

M: Somebody's mad LOL ꉂ (´∀｀)ʱªʱªʱª

Larimar: How did you know to break into this chat room at the exact right moment?

M: Wouldn't you like to know...

Larimar: THATS WHAT I JUST SAID YOU IDIOTA

Topballer2weedlover: wait were you watching the chat this whole time...?

No2Pes: That's scary!

69_DaddyMel_69: I told you guys she wasn't normal! Hah!

M: I never claimed to be... I just wanted to witness Melone being throttled （ ；¬＿¬)

xXPrettyBoyXx: Oh I was already aware. I mean you guys haven't seen the thing on her wall that I have

No1Pro: Huh?

OnlineHost: xXPrettyBoyXx has been removed from the chat.

Master_Of_Puppets: What the hell just happened?

Dr_Donna: Illuso got kicked out!

M: He's in Internet time out... He'll be fine... I'll add him back later...

Dr_Donna: :3 hehe

Master_Of_Puppets: Marsala, this is not your team. Add Illuso back

M: Fine... (ー_ーゞ

OnlineHost: xXPrettyBoyXx has entered the chat room!

xXPrettyBoyXx: I'm going to find you, Marsala...

M: Go ahead, I'm not afraid of you, 'pretty boy'... It's not like you didn't just leave my place anyway... (￢з￢)

xXPrettyBoyXx: SHUT UP... wait you think I'm pretty?

69_DaddyMel_69: Wait, what? Excuse me?

xXPrettyBoyXx: NOT LIKE THAT I HAD SOMETHING I NEEDED HER TO FIX

No1Pro: Mind your caps lock.

Dr_Donna: :3333 omgggg

M: He's an idiota who can't stop dropping his electronics...

Master_Of_Puppets: Mhm. Right

Topballer2weedlover: ohhhhh I get it now lmao

Larimar: Get what? What's happening?

No2Pes: Yeah I don't get it either

No1Pro: No surprise there...

No2Pes: :(

69_DaddyMel_69: I'm getting on my motorcycle. I. Will. Find. You. Illuso.

xXPrettyBoyXx: NO STOP ITS NOT LIKE THAT YOURE MAKING IT WEIRD

Dr_Donna: :3333

M: Yeah, you're overthinking it, Mel. Illuso is just a bothersome idiot...

xXPrettyBoyXx: I am?

M: Yeah...

xXPrettyBoyXx: Oh... huh

Dr_Donna: :3333

Larimar: STOP USING THAT STUPID FACE

Dr_Donna: Sorry Ghia :3

Larimar: STOP

No1Pro: Enough with the caps.

Topballer2weedlover: would you rather him use caps lock or hear him yelling in the room?

No1Pro: He'll do both anyway.

Master_Of_Puppets: He's already yelling, I can hear it. Has been since I locked him in there

M: I say you should let him out... Let Melone suffer d(⌒ー⌒)

Dr_Donna: I love all the little faces you use, Marsala!

M: Thanks （人´∀`*）

69_DaddyMel_69: Not much to love about them when she's using them to ask me to be maimed by a restrained madman

Larimar: IM NOT A MADMAN YOURE JUST A DUMBASS THAT PISSES ME OFF

69_DaddyMel_69: What? Because I said you wanted to kiss me? It's a joke mio caro

Larimar: DONT CALL ME STUFF LIKE THAT

69_DaddyMel_69: You don't like it when I'm sweet to you, dolce metà?

Topballer2weedlover: ew get a room

69_DaddyMel_69: We have one. I just can't go in there or he'll kill me

Larimar: No, you should come here. I promise I'm calm now.

Master_Of_Puppets: Don't go in there

Larimar: MELONE COME HERE

No1Pro: Ghiaccio calm down. He does this to get under your skin, you know. You're playing right into his game.

M: I wouldn't doubt it if he meant half the stuff he said... Also buongiorno Prosciutto ( *’ω’* )

No1Pro: Ciao, Marsala. How are you?

M: I'm well, thank you for asking...

xXPrettyBoyXx: Marsala, let me in

M: Are you seriously here?

xXPrettyBoyXx: Yeah

69_DaddyMel_69: Why are you at my sister's house?

Dr_Donna: :3333

xXPrettyBoyXx: Shut up Althaia

69_DaddyMel_69: Did you guys become friends or something while the rest of us weren't paying attention?

xXPrettyBoyXx: Yes

M: Eh

xXPrettyBoyXx: Come on Mar

M: I'm opening the door hold on... It takes me a min to get up...

Topballer2weedlover: damnnnn I can't believe I didn't notice this before

No2Pes: Notice what?

Dr_Donna: Nothing, it's nothing LOL

No1Pro: Yeah. Me too. That answers the question of where he goes when he leaves.

Master_Of_Puppets: Alright, everyone. That's enough of the chat room for today

Dr_Donna: I love the chat room LOL

Notes:

The formatting looks better on Tumblr I promise

Chapter 23: The Devil's Daughter

Summary:

Knowing you're the only person your father has is hard...

Diavella's perspective

Venezia, Italia- 2001

 

Today was rough.

It started out normal, just like any other day. I woke up, walked to school with V, went to all of my usual classes... But then some super-religious blonde girl got mad at me because she found out my full name and kept calling me a "demon seed" and "hell spawn". Then after that, people wouldn't stop calling me "Diavola", which is way too close to my father's name and it pissed me off really fucking bad. I started feeling that sort of prickly, itching, hot-flash sensation of anger that goes up my back when I start to lose my temper.

While that blonde girl was preaching at me and saying that I was going to Hell, I honestly grabbed her by the hair and shoved her into the lockers. I was going to do more, but we were broken up before I could. Then I got after school detention for it, and I was coming home later than usual.

On a normal day, I was home around 3 PM, but today, I was home around 8 PM. And I knew that my dad had a tendency to get worried, and that I had probably pissed him off. But it's not my fault they took my phone during detention!

I stepped into our front door after undoing the many locks and shut it quietly behind me, locking it back and leaning against it. I let out a heavy sigh, blowing my bangs out of my face, relieved to just finally be home. Maybe I could sneak past Dad's office and rush upstairs to avoid h–

"You're late."

I slowly turned my head towards the sound of his voice, nearly gripping the door behind me.

"Why are you late?"

He was in his office. Dammit... I hesitantly made my way there, a small frown on my face. "Mi dispiaghet... I had a challenging day. I meant to call you, but the school took my phone."

He was concealed in shadows. I could only see his hands folded together, his elbows resting on his desk in the faint light from the entry way. "Ajò."

I sighed and slipped my guitar case off my back, as well as my school crossbody bag. I set them on the ground against the doorway to his office and stepped inside, a nervous feeling in my stomach. "I go by Ella out in public, you know that. But some blonde found out my full first name and started going off on me about..." I shook my head and paced back and forth in front of his desk. "...righteousness, and how I would 'suffer for eternity' for my sins... That I would never 'reach the truth' or whatever..."

He stayed quiet.

"So, I got mad and slammed her into a locker. But I got detention for it after school, and they took my phone! That's why I couldn't call you... I'm sorry, Babbu. You know I would have! But after I got out, I was just so focused on rushing home that I forgot to call."

He didn't respond for longer than I felt comfortable... Honestly, it was eerie, and I was starting to fret. When he finally spoke up, his tone sounded grave and laced with something akin to... fear? Regret?

"A..." He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. "A blond person told you that you would "never reach the truth"?"

I nodded, raising a brow at him. "Yeah, but that doesn't really matter. She was just some religious nut."

"I see... It's worse than I thought..."

"Huh?"

"I'm... sorry you had to go through that, Cucciola. I fear that experience hits far too close to home..."

"What are you talking about? You're talking crazy again, Dad. Like there's some big conspiracy that I don't know about."

He sighed heavily, tapping his fingers on the desk in a distant, rhythmic pattern. "Because there is. And perhaps you're old enough to someday learn about it."

This must be the paranoia again... "I'm fine, Old Man, I promise. It was just a one-off nutjob. It happens."

"Nothing is random, Diavella. Everything has a purpose, a larger reason, everything is decided by fate. Everything in this life has already been etched out in the cosmos by a higher power that I have faced but still could not overcome. As strong as I was, I'm weak in the presence of destiny, just as any man would be. I learned that the hard way... My arrogance, pride, and bravado blinded me from the truth and now I'm... here."

I listened to him ramble, my expression growing more and more concerned. "Dad..."

"Even if I explained it to you, I couldn't expect you to fully wrap your head around something so painfully existential. Something that would make you question and doubt your entire young life. You suffer enough of my delusions already; I don't need to fill your head with more lofty machinations..."

He was off in his own world. He wasn't listening to me, even if he was talking at me. I came to his side, behind his desk, and crouched down to try and catch his emerald gaze. He wasn't even looking at me or registering that I was near. I stood up straight again and grabbed his face with my hand and squeezed it, trying to paint over my worried expression with a stern one.

"Stop. You're getting nowhere, ranting like this. It's just the paranoia," I said.

He finally looked up at me, and though his eyes seemed weak and tired, seeing his face all squished like this was kind of funny. When he talked, it was sort of muffled by it. "This isn't paranoia speaking, Dia. You'll know the truth in time, when I'm sure you're ready."

I still couldn't understand him. Did my being late terrify him so badly that I sent him into a spiral? Now I felt guilty... "Babbu, pro piaghere... I didn't mean to scare you..."

He let out a soft breath and brought his hand to mine, rubbing the top of it with his thumb. "No, I'm sorry... Your words had just brought up memories of the past. I don't even know how long it's been since that day, in reality... Everything has felt like an eternity since then..."

"Since what?"

He shook his head after I lowered my hand, repeating himself. "I'll tell you when I'm sure you're ready."

I wanted to know but I didn't want to push him while he was in this state. "That's alright..."

"I wish I hadn't burdened you with my delusions... The irksome ruckus in my head that makes me an unstable, unreliable man. Had I known that, by blood, I would have passed it to you, I would have made a wiser decision..."

I turned my head a bit, my voice softening. "What do you mean?"

He looked away, tapping his foot on the ground. "Honestly, I'm not sure... But I'm just glad your mother's genes steadied you. Without her, you'd have truly been a nightmarish carbon copy of me."

I chuckled and flicked his temple. "I thought you said that wasn't such a bad thing."

He flinched and swatted my hand away. "In terms of the fact that you are superior to every other meddlesome wretch that walks this plane, yes, it's not a "bad thing". But the curse that comes with it is the downside to that."

I laughed in response before poking at him some more, attempting to be annoying. "Dad," I drawled out.

"What?" He looked up at me.

I grinned a little. "Dad."

His expression dropped and he frowned a bit, the usual creases of a scowl that he had trained into his skin appearing again. "What, Diavella?"

"Dad!" I poked at him once more.

He growled a bit in frustration and snatched my wrist, standing up now. "What do you want? Out with it, you exasperating brat of mine."

I wore a big, sly grin before pulling him into a hug. "I love you," I teased.

He groaned a bit in frustration before hugging me back. "You vex me. It's interesting to see a more playful, childish side of you."

"Speaking of..." I began, "did you make dinner?"

He peeled me off of him, looked down at me with a dry expression, hands on my shoulders. "What do I look like?"

"You want me to answer honestly?"

He glanced away for a second, thinking, before muttering, "No..."

"To answer the point of your question: you look like my father... Who hopefully made dinner..."

"I should have left the room when I had the chance..."

"Dad!"

He rolled his eyes and grumbled a bit. "I haven't cooked. I was sitting here waiting for you to come in."

I batted my eyes and put on the sweetest expression I could muster. He stared at me for a long minute, deadpanning, before finally relenting.

"Fine. I'll cook. Go do your homework."

I cheered a bit before heading towards the door, picking up my belongings. "Yay!"

"I'll call you down when it's done so keep your headphones off."

"Alright."

 

*

 

That night, I couldn't sleep. I was tossing and turning, my long hair a wild mess strewn about my pillow. I couldn't stop thinking about the things my father had said hours earlier. All of that nonsense about fate, destiny, facing 'it', and being unable to tell me yet... But was it really nonsense? Was there some greater grand plan that I wasn't privy to? Why didn't he think I could handle the truth? Unless he was too worried about me to tell...?

I couldn't shut my mind off. I was a mix of pensive and hyperactive... Usually, when I was like this, there was only one course of action...

My mother's old journals.

I got out of bed and threw on my housecoat and slippers, then quietly slipped out of my room and into the darkness of the rest of the old, weary house. I wondered what it was like before when my mother was still alive. If it was more lively or still drab like it was now.

My mother's journals were my only connection to her thoughts and personality. Dad didn't really like to talk about her very much, mostly because he was still very emotional over the matter, as much as he tried to hide it. That was okay, though... I understood thanks to my mother's journals. They had an intense connection and without her, well...

He was without her because of me.

I didn't like to think about it...

I had read just about every journal of hers and she had them numbered. There was always a missing one: number 35. And after how he acted today, I had a feeling it was hidden somewhere in his office. So, I tiptoed in there, trying my best not to stumble in the dark, and made my way to his desk chair. If it was anywhere, it'd probably be hidden in his desk rather than out on display on his bookshelf.

I began to tug the drawers open, and when I finally found one that wouldn't budge, I knew I had made the right call. I looked around, thinking of something I could use to pick the lock... I glanced down at my lap. Aha! I unclipped the oversized safety pin stuck into my housecoat for dramatic flair and stuck it in the keyhole, fiddling around with it until I heard the quiet click of the lock granting me entry. I grinned a bit and stuck the safety pin back in my housecoat before carefully sliding the drawer open and looking inside. Some old slips of paper, a Polaroid photograph, a tube of lipstick, ticket stubs, and finally...

Journal 35.

This must have been a memento drawer that Dad had kept locked away. Why he kept this journal out of all of them hidden was a mystery to me, but I intended to get to the bottom of it. First, though, I wanted to look over all of the other finds in here. I knew he was asleep upstairs, so if I turned on his desk lamp, I shouldn't alert him at all. I sat in his desk chair and pulled the small string on the lamp. With a metallic click, the room was now illuminated by a soft, yellow light, and I could finally see what all I was looking at.

The lipstick was designer. A dark blue... It looked very used and old. It was dry by now. This must have been my mother's lipstick. It was a pretty color... It matched the streaks in my hair. I set it down and moved onto the Polaroid.

I flipped it over and as soon as my eyes registered what I was seeing, I teared up. I don't know why that was my first reaction, but my eyes were stinging. Pictured were my parents together, arms around each other. Their cheeks were pressed together, and my mother had her left hand held out towards the camera, an engagement ring on it. They were so... cute together. My mother was gorgeous, dressed in a sort of leather jacket and dark blue maxi dress... And she was wearing the blindfold that was on my nightstand. My father was smiling, and I mean really smiling! I had never seen his face do that before... There was so much joy emanating from this photograph... I wished I could have felt it for myself.

They looked so sweet and happy. It was the first time I had ever seen them together and one of the first photos I had ever seen of my mother... I wanted to cry but I was also... mad. I swiped at my teary eyes and put the photo down, sniffling.

I don't know why, but part of me was jealous that my father got time with my mother, and I didn't... I know that's not how life works; I came after the two of them were together. But I just... If I could spend even only a minute with her, I think I could die happy. But I was also furiously guilty by the simple fact that she's not here because of me.

I'm the reason she's dead, I'm the reason my father will spend the rest of his life lonely and sad. I'm the reason I'll never know what it's like to even have a mother...

It's all my fault.

I buried my face in my arms and slumped over onto the desk, my body shaking as I sobbed as quietly as I could. Why did I have to do this? Why did I have to happen to my family?

My moment of self-pity was cut short when I heard a creaking sound from upstairs. My father... I sat up and quickly put everything from the drawer back when I found it, sliding it closed. I kept the journal with me, though, and tucked it in my coat pocket. I quickly turned out the light and rushed out of the office, my heart pounding in my chest. I looked up at the top of the stairs with my damp eyes and saw my father standing there, staring down at me. Shit...

"Diave–"

All the sudden, I was back at the desk, everything spread across it like it had been. I shoved everything back in the drawer and grasped the journal, then dashed upstairs. As soon as I closed my bedroom door, I heard that creaking from out in the hallway, indicating that my father was moving according to the same path as before. Just as I planned...

Having a Stand while my father didn't made situations like these so much easier...

Now, back to the matter at hand: journal 35. I need to learn what my father has been keeping from me all my life...

 

-- Chapter End --

🎸🎸🎸

Notes:

For the record, King Crimson did not come along with Diavolo in the death loop (at least in my canon), but he can still see Stands. Because he was born with a Stand, so was Diavella!

Chapter 24: Assassin Anecdotes: Time of The Month

Summary:

It always helps when someone has your back...

Althaia's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

I was sitting at the dining table, eating the breakfast I had cooked for myself and staring at my phone. I was overly fatigued, even though I slept in. I felt cranky, bloated, and I was cramping... Perfect. Just perfect... I had this festering ball of anger in my gut for literally no reason at all. Ugh...

I was stewing in my poor mood, idly stabbing at my breakfast with my fork, my long hair messy and undone. I wanted to lay down in the shower and never leave it. Most of the guys were either out or busy. The only ones that were here were Risotto, Prosciutto, and Pesci. Pesci never went anywhere without Prosciutto, so if Prosciutto was somewhere, so was he. It was common knowledge.

"You look like hell," a deep voice said, breaking me out of my lack of focus.

I looked up. "Huh? Oh, hey..."

It was Risotto. I had convinced him to take an off day at least once this week, and he chose today, so he was still in his lounge clothes. His white, silvery, short hair was unkempt and swept to the left, like he usually liked it. He was gorgeous, and scary... I really liked his ear piercings. I wanted to wear his clothes. They'd be so oversized on me...

Woah! Wait! What the hell was I talking about?! God... I shook my head and sighed.

"I'm fine," I went on, "just, eh... y'know..."

He was making himself another mug of coffee, and he raised a brow at me. "No, I don't know."

I gestured a bit, my expression growing more awkward. "Like..." I groaned and huffed. I didn't want to talk about this with a man. I know that I'm a doctor, and I can be mature about this, but I don't know if he can, and that's my worry. "Uh... yeah."

He turned to look at me, shaking his head in disbelief and wearing a bit of a grin. "What the hell are you talking about, Belladonna?"

I gestured again, away from myself. "Stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Like... 'lady stuff'..."

His eyes widened a bit before he actually laughed at me and nodded. "Pfft, yeah, okay, I get it. Why'd you make it so weird?"

I shrugged, tapping the end of my fork on my lower lip. "I dunno, not really easy to talk about this kinda stuff with a guy."

Risotto sighed and finished making his coffee before coming closer to the table. "Look, not only am I nearly thirty, but I had a mom and a younger sister growing up. I'm not an idiot. It's biology. All I care about is that it doesn't affect your job when it comes down to it."

I smiled faintly before meeting his gaze briefly. "Thanks... That's... This is actually pretty refreshing."

"Yeah, I guess I'm feeling a little more relaxed today since you convinced me to take a break."

"Oh, good! I'm glad... See? That's why I told you to do this."

"I guess I just don't know what to do with myself, though."

I thought for a moment before pushing my plate towards him, and he sat down. "Well, I'm not doing anything today. Maybe we could hang out."

He began eating from the rest of the meal I didn't want. "Are you really even in the mood to 'hang out' today? You don't look it."

"You don't look it every single day and I still bother you."

"That's because you have this... annoying ray of sunshine inside of you that enjoys pissing me off."

I laughed a little. "Guilty as charged. I'm like a corgi."

He deadpanned at me. "You're comparing yourself to a dog?"

"Yeah, and you're like a big, scary, but ultimately sweet Cane Corso."

"Now you're comparing me to a dog??"

"Yeah! Of course."

"'Of course'? Why are you acting like this is just some normal thing to do?"

"It is. For me."

"You're strange..."

Prosciutto and Pesci came into the front room from the stairs. Prosciutto was as straight-edged as usual, and Pesci was following behind him like he needed his guidance to survive.

I smirked a bit before gesturing past Risotto and towards them. "Prosciutto is like a Doberman pinscher and Pesci is like an English Bulldog."

Prosciutto looked up at us. "I'm a what?"

"Doberman," I repeated.

He paused for a moment before nodding. "I can live with that."

I looked at Risotto, who rolled his eyes. "See?"

"Well," Risotto began, "I'll be in my room. I guess just... let me know if you want to do something."

I nodded and let him leave. I'd wash the plate we shared. I went to stand up but I immediately started cramping. My eyes widened and I gripped my abdomen, cursing under my breath and sitting back down again.

"Dammit..."

Before I knew it, bottles of medicine were placed down in front of me with a glass of water. It was... ibuprofen and an acetaminophen, pamabrom, and pyrilamine combination...? I looked up at the person standing before me, and it was Prosciutto. His expression revealed nothing, and his blue eyes locked with mine, no emotion in them.

"Huh?"

"Take these," he said.

"How did you...?"

"I just do."

I sighed and nodded. "Fine, alright..."

Weird...

 

*

 

That night, I was rummaging around my room in a slight panic. I can't believe this... I thought I had brought more with me when I moved in! Fuck!

I rushed to the bathroom and ducked down to the floor, going through everything under the sink...

No more pads. Dammit!

"I don't wanna go to the store..." I whined quietly to myself, gently banging my head on the counter. Despite myself, I started to tear up. I knew it was just a mood swing, but it really took a hold of me.

My barely contained fit was interrupted by a familiar voice clearing his throat. I looked up and quickly wiped my face. I'm sure I looked so slovenly compared to the always put-together and impeccably dressed Prosciutto, but there he was. He wasn't looking at me. In fact, he was staring ahead with a strained expression, a hint of red in his cheeks. He had his arm extended out to me, a box of pads in it.

"Take it," he said, his voice quiet.

"What?"

"Just... take it."

I nodded and stood up, picking up the box and looking down at it. How did he...? Why did he...?

"Uh–" I was cut off.

He shut the bathroom door for me, not saying another word, and I heard him walking away. Huh...

After I finished up, I rushed out of the bathroom and down the hallway, intent on finding the man again. I had so many questions! I made my way into the kitchen and caught him in there, and he looked at me as if I had caught him stealing from the cookie jar.

"You!" I exclaimed, pointing at him.

"Don't."

"Prosciutto, what was that?"

"What was what?"

I waved my hand about, my expression looking fed-up. "Back there! The pads!"

"I... don't know to what you are referring..." He shrugged and refused to look at me, taking the dishes out of the dishwasher and putting them away.

"Don't play stupid. I want answers."

"I can't just... be a good teammate?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Not when you're like... in my head! Knowing things I hadn't even said out loud!"

He sighed and tapped on the counter. "It's... not important. I just... had a gut feeling and went for it. I just happened to be right."

"Not true. If there's one thing I know about you it's that you don't believe things just "happen". You believe everything is due to intention and choice."

I stared at him for a long moment, a frown on my face, and his eye twitched before he relented.

"Fine... Sometimes I wish you actually were an idiot. Well, more of one than you are..."

"Well, I'm not, so..."

He groaned a bit and crossed his arms over his chest, his expression softening into something... nervous. He was... nervous. I couldn't believe it. He looked almost scared. "Fine..."

I calmed down and came closer, my lips twisting into a sympathetic pout. "Pro, what is it...? Why do you look so scared?"

He kept his eyes on the floor and adjusted his shoulders, clearing his throat. "It's fine. I'm... I'm not scared."

"Hey, you can talk to me, okay?"

He nodded and took a deep breath before speaking next. "I'm, uh..." He shook his head before struggling to get the words out. "I'm transessuale..."

My eyes widened and I think my heart skipped a beat. Oh... Oh! "So, you're..."

"Female to male, yes..."

I finally understood now... That's how he could tell. He knew the signs. He had felt them too once... I smiled a bit and nodded.

"So that's why you had those..."

He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Yes, I... don't need them anymore but I guess I've just held onto them out of habit. But that's fine. You can have them."

I looked up at his face now and studied it. Maybe he thought I'd think of him differently now, but no... He was just as handsome, dapper, sharp-minded, and sweet to me as before. I was still jealous of his pretty, long lashes and ocean eyes. He didn't seem as fearful as before, but he was still certainly on edge. There was no need for that...

"I'm... I don't tell people that. The world isn't exactly ready for me," he muttered.

"I am," I said, grinning. "I'm ready for you."

I could see his cheeks go red again and his aqua eyes were shining with some kind of wonder I didn't think a man as serious as himself could have. "Are you– Really?"

I nodded and chuckled a bit. "Of course."

Suddenly, I was yanked into a tight hug. I was a bit surprised, but I reciprocated almost immediately, wrapping my arms around him. His nearly black, navy-blue suit was so soft to the touch. And I was still so obsessed with his cologne. The sides of our faces were pressed against each other's, my nose buried in his neck. My arms were draped over his shoulders, and his were nearly encircling my entire torso. He was so warm and... I really felt a connection when our chests were pressed together, like he cared about me, and I cared about him.

"Thank you..." he mumbled, eyes closed.

"Don't mention it, Pro," I replied.

I then pulled back a bit and held his chin in place, staring back into his eyes. I could see that the fair skin of his cheeks were still rosy... It was so silly. I cupped his face in my hands and kissed his cheek, and it was warm under my lips. His hands slid down and squeezed my hips. I heard the way his breath hitched in his throat, and, for good measure, I pressed my lips against his face once more, this time on his jaw. Then once more on his throat, and his grip on me only tightened. He shuddered and let out a noise that was a mix of a huff and a hum. When I lowered my hands, he swiftly held them by the wrists, almost like he needed to cling to something, and I could see now that his gaze was nearly half-lidded.

"Did you just...?" he trailed off, his voice breathy.

"I did."

"Why...?"

I shrugged and giggled softly. "I dunno... I just felt like it was right."

He nodded and swallowed thickly, trying to regain his composure. "Fine..." He closed his eyes for a moment, outlining the veins on my wrists with his thumbs. "Could I...?"

"What's that?"

"Well... Could we go for a drive? I'd... For your sake, there's some things we need in the house and I..." His brows furrowed a bit. "Unfortunately, I spent the last of my money on lunch today for Pesci and I."

"Oh! Sure!" I then decided to tease him, "But only if we can get some chocolate on the way."

"Ah, those cravings, yes... I remember." He laughed quietly. "Of course. Besides, you're the one who's paying. I'm not going to tell you how to spend your money."

I nodded curtly and gripped his hand tighter, dragging him towards the door. "C'mon! Let's go!"

"You need shoes, Doctor... And your wallet." He stopped me, his hand on my shoulder.

I looked down at my feet and tittered. "Ah, right... Be right back! Guess I just got so excited about the chocolate, hah!"

I ran up the stairs, a fluttery, airy feeling in my chest. I can't remember the last time I had felt this way...

The only thing I could think about, really, was how much I wished I had kissed him more...

 

*

 

We had taken Prosciutto's car to a local farmacia and not only did we stock up on 'feminine products', but I also got more chocolate than a responsible adult should. Prosciutto did try to stop me but eventually he relented. I think he was tired of me, but it was hilarious.

Once we had retreated to his car, I got right into the chocolate, tearing a bag open and reaching my hand inside.

"Want some, Pro?" I asked, offering him a small candy.

"No," he said, "I'm fine. It's yours."

I waggled the chocolate in front of him, replying in a singsong voice. "You know you want it!"

He glared at me before snatching it out of my hand, his glower transforming into a smirk. "Shush."

I laughed and took out a few more wrapped pieces, setting them in his lap. "I want gelato!"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I want gelato al cioccolato."

"You just spent way too much money on candy. And that wasn't good enough?"

"I thought you said you weren't gonna tell me how to spend my money."

"Well, I wasn't... Until I realized you were a fool."

I tapped my fingers on my thighs before wearing a playful grin. "Hmm... Tell you what: if you come along with me for this, I'll kiss you again. But for real this time."

His jaw about dropped off of his face and he tensed up. When he spoke next, his voice was a bit squeaky. "W–what?"

"Yeah." I shrugged.

"You'll..." He shook it off and put on a serious expression again. "What do you think I am? A middle schooler? You can't just get me to do things by promising to-" He huffed. "Y'know..."

I leaned over the center console and slid my hand up his bare chest. "Sounds like you're considering it."

He pressed his back to the chair, and I could feel his chest rising and falling more rapidly. He was a red-faced mess. "I–I'm not... I..."

I trailed my finger up his collarbone, then his throat, before I tipped his chin towards me. "I'd really like to kiss you anyway, even if we just went straight home after..." I began leaning in towards him, my eyes fluttering closed, and I felt his hand cupping my jaw.

"Are you... sure?" he whispered, his nose brushing against mine.

"Mhm..."

Just as our lips were about to touch, his phone rang, and it snapped us out of it. We returned to a normal sitting position, our faces flushed, nearly melting.

"I–I have to take this..." he said, pulling his phone out of his suit pocket.

"Right, no, yeah, of course," I uttered, gesturing for him to keep going.

Dammit... Was I even thinking straight? What if this made things awkward between us now? I'm an idiot...

He pressed his phone to the side of his face now, starting the car again. His brows raised as he listened, quickly looking behind him and pulling out of the parking space. "What?! Damn... We'll be right there."

When he hung up, I cleared my throat and spoke up. "Ghiaccio and Melone?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Of course..."

Maybe this was for the best...

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

I'm a ftm trans Prosciutto truther (y'all are also gonna get VERY frustrated with this ship too trust lmao)

Chapter 25: Blue Eyes Blind

Summary:

A flashback from the perspective of one of Anthonia's old journals. An origin of sorts...

Anthonia's Journal No. 1

Sardegna- 1979

 

The lively breeze picked up the signs of spring and carried them about the island of Sardegna. I could hear songbirds overhead, I could smell the ocean, and I could feel the warm sun on my skin. Everything seemed beautiful, and I could feel that beauty inside of me as I walked down a small, paved path alongside the beach, my white cane waving in front of me.

Well, I say it's white, but if I actually did buy the correct one, it should be black and blue.

I had gotten used to tuning out the scraping and clacking noises my cane left against the pavement while walking. I didn't need that. All I needed were the sounds of the waves to my left and the soft crunch of stray sand under my platform sandals.

For a moment, all was calm, but soon, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Someone was watching me... I stood still, a tingling sensation traveling up my spine. What?! Did some creep think a lone blind girl would be easy pickings? Not a chance!

I listened carefully for the sounds around me... The waves, the birds, the leaves, I tuned it all out, waiting, waiting... There.

I pointed my cane in the direction of where I heard the faintest of footsteps, off to my right. I didn't even bother turning to face it.

"Fermati proprio lì, coglioni! I know where you are!" I yelled.

The world went dead silent, except for the ambience of the beach. Then there was a medium toned, almost raspy chuckle from the direction I was pointing, as well as a slow clap.

"Bèe assà, straniera bella. Nicely done. I wasn't expecting you to be so sharp, but I suppose I should have," the young-sounding man praised.

I turned around now. "Who are you? Why are you following me?" I think my voice probably sounded a bit childish and scared, but I wasn't scared of him. I was a little upset, though.

"Mi dispiaghet. I didn't exactly mean to startle you," he said, an air of amusement in his voice. He had a thick Sardinian accent. He was clearly from the island. "I came to the beach to be alone, and I suppose you heard me. It wasn't my intention to creep on you."

"You're speaking sardu. You're a local, aren't you?"

"Eja," he replied, coming closer. "Born and raised... Sort of. Faeddas su sardu?"

"Emmo, unu pagu... But I'm from Roma."

"So, what are you doing here, then, tourist?"

I huffed. "What does it look like? Vacationing."

"I see... Do you know your way around?"

"Sorta..."

"Do you need help?"

"Why are you asking? Because I'm blind?"

"...Because you're a tourist."

I felt a tad guilty for assuming that he was being ableist, but usually, I was right. He was a special case. "I've gotten around plenty fine on my own so far."

He hummed with amusement. "I can see that. You've made your way to a nicely secluded section of beach, even getting past the rocky entrance over that small hill back there. Impressive..."

"Exactly. I've got it handled."

"Perhaps, but... Only the locals know the best spots in town. How long do you plan on staying?"

"I have enough money for five days."

"Five days in paradise... In that time alone I could show you the most tranquil places on the island."

I was intrigued now by this strange boy, so I paused and mulled it over, becoming less defensive. "I'd feel better if I knew your name. I'm Anthonia," I said, holding my hand out for him to shake.

I felt him take my hand and shake it gently. His hands weren't rough feeling, but they weren't delicate either. "You can call me Solido."

"Piaghere," I greeted in my poor sardu. "Cantos annos tenes?"

He laughed a bit. "Piaghere. I'm eighteen. And you?"

"Eighteen as well."

"Your sardu isn't bad... I could teach you more, though. And we need to work on your accent."

"It's difficult, you know... It's not the easiest language."

"You mainlanders over exaggerate. You speak too softly," he asserted. "Ajò, Anthonia! There's a tide pool not too far from here that I'd like to show you first."

I giggled and felt the salty ocean air breeze past me again as I followed the sound of his voice. "Springs are so beautiful here..."

"I know. I'd much rather spend it here than a crowded city in Italia."

"There are some nice, secluded places on the mainland too. Just not Roma... It's extremely cramped."

"Oh, I know... But for me, at the moment, my life is quite simple."

"What does a day in your life look like, Solido?"

"Hm... I wake up just as the sun does, eat breakfast with my father, help him tend to his church, work a short shift on a small ranch, then spend the rest of my day meandering the beaches or committing petty crimes."

I gasped a little. "Crimes?!"

"What? Don't tell me you don't know how to have a little fun. Spontaneity is the spice of life."

Despite myself, I enjoyed the trope of a scrappy, lively bad boy. "Your father is a priest, yet you indulge in crime?"

"Just because I grew up in a holy setting doesn't mean I can't deviate from its teachings... Besides, I could be doing much worse. I think some teenage delinquency can be forgiven."

I laughed and shook my head. "I would give anything to have a life like yours, from the sounds of it."

"Really?"

"Yes... Life back in Roma is so stressful. But everything here moves slower. To chase after a thrill rather than have it thrown at you time and time again... That's the life I want. I want the choice."

He seemed to give my words a good ponder before speaking up once again. "Spend the day with me and I'll give you exactly what you want."

I smiled a bit. "Are you just a smooth-talker or do you deliver on your words?"

"I always deliver."

When he stopped suddenly, I bumped into him from behind and we both had a laugh about it.

"Mi dispiaghet, but we're here," he said. "The tide pool is ahead."

I nodded. "How big is it?"

"About medium sized, I'd say..."

He took my hand and led me through the sand and towards a rock line. I was a bit unsteady on the rocks but with his help, I made it just fine. A part of me was a little glum that I wouldn't be able to experience the tide pool with my sight. But, oh well...

I sat down on a cool, smooth, flat rock near the edge of the water. With my fingers, I felt the dull creases in the damp surface. It seemed to have been weathered by ocean and wind. I dipped my hand in the water, and when I did, I felt ripples, then heard the soft sound of something submerging within it.

"Solido?" I called out.

"Yeah?"

"Did you get in the water?"

"Just a little..."

"Where did you set your shoes?"

"I wasn't wearing any to begin with."

"What??"

"Yeah. I was only going to the beach. I didn't bother to bring shoes."

I thought for a moment, gently splashing the water around and dripping it onto my arm with my fingers. "Tell me, what are you wearing?"

"Um... Unbuttoned, white, short-sleeved collared shirt, a necklace, and brown trousers that I had to roll up to avoid getting wet."

"And what do you look like?"

"I have..." I could tell there was some strain in his voice, but he bit it back. "Fair skin, green eyes, and long, pink hair tied up in a bun. Some tattoos on my arms."

I grinned at his description. I couldn't exactly imagine it in the way I suppose a seeing person would, but I liked the sound of it anyway. "You seem pretty."

There was a silence between us for a good thirty seconds before his sly voice broke it, "You know what else is pretty?"

"What?"

"The sea snail I'm holding in front of your face."

I let out a small shriek and scooted back, my brows furrowed. I could hear him howling with laughter and setting something back in the water.

"Ugh! You're such a boy!" I shouted. I didn't like slimy things...

"Oh, come on. It wasn't going to hurt you!"

"Now your hands are all slimy!"

"No, they're not! I washed them in the water."

"The salt water that's filled with snails!"

I heard the water swish as he stepped closer, a playful quality to his voice. "Come on! Feel how clean they are."

I felt his cold, wet hands touch my arms, and I screamed a little, swatting him away while he continued to laugh at me. "Agh! Grow up!"

He snickered and calmly leaned over me now, his hands on either side of my lap, resting on the rock I was sitting on. His voice was lower now, more sensual and thoughtful. "With your tanned, honey skin and dark blue hair, you look like you belong out here."

"In a tide pool?"

"By the sea, amore..." he clarified. "Like an irresistible maiden-siren. And I fear that I'm but a doomed, hopelessly attracted sailor nearing the rocky shore."

I felt my chest tighten and a storm of butterflies surge through me. His poeticism and thick accent enraptured me, I think. I don't know if he was just a lover boy or a player, but either way, I was enjoying the attention and I wanted more.

"Solido... Are you trying to make a pass at me?" I asked quietly.

"Would you be displeased if I said yes?"

"...Not quite."

I could feel his gentle breath on my lips as he leaned in closer. "I'd be a fool not to, Anthonia. You're gorgeous, self-assured, confident, and lovely. I want to give you a reason to miss Sardegna when you go. Perhaps even a reason to come back. Please, let me show you a good time."

"You're a charming man, you know that?" I replied with a bit of a smirk on my face. "I'm flattered. I'd love for you to take me out."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it... I have place I want to show you. It's one of the best things about this town."

"But what about the food? I've yet to try it. Where's the nearest ristorante?"

I felt him carefully raise my hand to his soft lips, which brushed against my knuckles. "I could take you to the nearest one, or I could take you to the best one, bellissima."

I could feel myself blushing beneath my blindfold, and I couldn't stop the coy smile that spread across my face. "Take me to the best one, then."

He kept hold of my hand and got out of the water. Once he helped me up, he began to lead me away from the beach. "You strike me as the kind of woman who only wants the best for herself."

"I'd say you're right... And your Italian sounds very pretty with your accent."

"R-really...?" His voice seemed to come off as shyer now. "Most mainlanders tend to think of sardu as the rural, poor idiot's language..."

"Well, those people are the idiotas, then. I quite like the way it sounds."

"I'm partially thankful you can't see my face right now..."

"Why's that?"

"Because I think I'm blushing."

 

*

 

I had a knack for reading people, as difficult as that may be to believe, because I couldn't be fooled by their body language. Should I have followed a strange man like that? No, probably not. But I wholeheartedly believed that Solido had nothing but the best intentions for me, and it showed. He took me out for a nice lunch and paid for the whole thing. He was a gentleman throughout, showing me around, opening doors for me, pulling out a chair for me, making sure to describe anything interesting that we passed. And after our date, we spent the whole day together.

He was a bit of a rugged, high-strung, quirky soul. He had a habit of spotting random animals and telling me facts about them. And he also enjoyed handling whatever creepy-crawlies he could find and trying to scare me by bringing them close. I found him very boyish and exuberant, which I honestly enjoyed. I know I still had many a thing to learn about him before I could understand all sides of him, but I was already hooked by what I had experienced.

While we were out, he stole me a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine from a market stall. And when one of the merchants caught him and began yelling at us, he took my hand and we ran as far as our spry legs could take us, laughing the whole way. He was like a breath of fresh air, even though he had a tendency to switch moods pretty suddenly and become stern without warning. I liked that in a man, though. A little bit of seriousness never hurt anyone.

We spent the next four days of my vacation either exploring the town, walking the beaches, or wasting time in my hotel room. In only that short period, we had opened up to each other quite deeply and gotten close, even beginning to sleep in the same bed, though a pillow separated us.

On my last night, we were lying in bed together, sleepless. I had taken my blindfold off for the night, and my blue, unseeing eyes stared aimlessly forward. He had made a place for himself next to me, nestling close to my chest. I could smell the typical scent he had about him when he was pressed against me; white tea, myrrh, and amber. His long, soft hair was brushing against my chin and the rise and fall of our chests were in sync.

"Anthonia... May I be honest with you about something?" he asked suddenly, his voice quiet. The lower he spoke, the raspier it got.

"Of course," I chirped.

"I may have lied to you the day we met... About what my life was like."

I raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Yes, I... I used to have that simple life quite recently, but due to some unstoppable circumstances, I am now without a home or real income..."

My eyes widened and my grip around him tightened. "What?!"

"I'm sorry, caro... I just didn't want to seem like a lousy beggar to you when we met..."

I shook my head. "You're not. I could never be mad at you for this. I understand feeling the need to lie to protect yourself."

"Really?"

"Yes... And if it's any consolation, you could come back to Roma with me. I'm poor, I work three jobs, and I live in a bad part of town, but with you by my side, I'd probably be better off. I know you love Sardegna, but at least you'd have a roof over your head and food to eat..."

He was quiet for a long while before speaking in a manner that I'm sure was laced with a mix of shame and fondness. "Really...? You'd open up your home to me?"

"Of course. This whole time, you haven't given me any reason to fear you may have ill intentions for me. And I think it would help to not only have a fourth income in the house, but it'd be nice to have someone to come home to."

I felt him sit up, and when he spoke this time, he promised fantastic things with a boisterous, arrogant, dreamy quality. "We won't be poor or destitute for long! I have a grand plan, one that I am sure will work out. You would just have to trust me."

"And that is...?"

"I'm going to found an organized crime syndicate and rise to the top of Italia!"

I sputtered a bit and sat up too. "What?! Solido, are you crazy?!"

He sighed heavily. "You have no idea... Truly, I am. But that will only serve me once again."

"What are you going on about? This isn't... This isn't something you can just decide to do! We're two low-income teenagers who have no clue how to accomplish something like that."

"Anthonia, dear, trust me when I say that I have a clue. I need you to believe in me!" he urged.

"It's hard to when you're talking like this..."

"I'm aware I haven't known you for long, but I have a feeling that you are the type of woman a man only meets once in his life– in a thousand lifetimes! And without you, I'd spend forever trying to replicate the impact you've left on me."

My nerves died down as he spoke with such conviction. My heart steady thudded in my chest, and I brought my hand to it, just to feel the vibrations. I wanted to be sure that what I felt was real.

"We've only just met, and I probably sound desperate and insane... But you've shown me a better time this week by just being yourself than I have ever had in my life... You make me feel like I have a chance to really start over and do things the right way..."

Words couldn't describe how I felt in that moment... It was like the whole world had stopped and the only two people on earth were him and I.

"If you take a chance on me," he said, "I guarantee you that you will be treated with all the dignity, respect, and devotion in the world. I guarantee you my dream will be fulfilled, and I need someone by my side. Someone who will be just as intuitive, sharp, and spirited as you."

He spoke with such determination in his voice it almost slipped my mind that what he was spouting was a delusion...

"Join me, Anthonia, and you'll never have to fret about income, housing, disrespect, lack of power, or lack of purpose ever again," he insisted, taking my hands in his. "You will rule the Italian criminal underground by my side."

I thought over his words in my mind. This boy, who I had previously thought was a simple, modest son of a preacher, had lofty, criminal ambitions of becoming a mafia Don... With how sure he was of himself, I could have sworn he knew exactly what he was talking about, and he left no room for doubt. His tone was that of a seasoned expert. I had no reason not to believe him. I knew it in my heart...

Besides, I had nothing worthwhile going for me in Roma anyway... A fast-moving city that, with my three low-paying jobs, isolation, and disability, left me in the dust of more successful people. I had sought refuge in the peace and tranquility of the more rural side of Sardegna for a reason. And, like fate itself had crossed our paths, I met a boy with a surefire answer to the problems that hovered over my head like a dreary cloud.

"You sound batty, Solido..." I muttered, shaking my head.

"Ah, one more thing I should reveal to you..."

"Another thing?"

"My name isn't Solido... Not really, anyway. That's an alias. My real name is Diavolo."

My jaw dropped. "The devil? You're kidding..."

"I'm not."

"You're a stranger case than I thought..."

"The mystery is deeper than you're even prepared for."

"Well, then... I'd like to get to the bottom of it. I suppose that means I should give your plan a try, right?"

"Wait, so... What are you saying...?"

Could this go poorly? Absolutely. Could I get myself killed or hurt? Of course. Would I be entering a life of crime that I could never escape? Definitely.

But would I partner with a man who seemed like he would drop to his knees to meet my needs and show me the greatest, most wild time of my life?

I sure did.

"Lead the way, Mio Don..."

 

-- Chapter End --

☀️☀️☀️

Notes:

My friend got mad at me for making him sad with this one lmao (Also to clarify, Diavolo's age and such has changed in this AU. He's not 33 like in canon, he's 40!) Listen to Blue Eyes Blind by ZZ Ward! (This is also technically chapter 20 so now chapters will be getting longer!)

Chapter 26: Assassin Anecdotes: Movie Night

Summary:

Movie nights are the perfect excuse to cuddle...

Althaia's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

A few of the guys and I had decided to have a movie night and watch an Italian classic: La Dolce Vita. I don't want to call it old because, well, I was only born eighteen years after it released. After dinner, I had busied myself with making movie snacks. Now that it was nearly summer, the vegetables were gorgeous and plentiful in stores right now, so I made a cut vegetable tray with some tzatziki along with everything else.

Besides me, the moviegoers were Risotto, Formaggio, and Illuso. Aside from Prosciutto, we were probably the only ones patient enough to watch a three hour long movie. By 8:30 PM, Risotto had already booted up the DVD player and Illuso and Formaggio had already found their places on the couch, sitting next to each other. We had moved one of the couches so that it was facing the TV instead of the other one. It'd be a bit of a tight squeeze with all four of us up there, but we'd be fine.

I quickly changed into some lounge clothes: a white, silky cropped tank top and long, fuzzy green pants, along with a sweater and a pair of slippers. What can I say? I liked to be cozy.

Once I got back, I set the snack tray on the coffee table, then took a seat next to Risotto. The guys were already in their loungewear. All in all, I was ready for a fun, relatively quiet, relaxed night in.

Though the four of us started out chatting a bit and snacking, by the time we were forty five minutes into the movie, we had all quieted down and started paying attention. And I hated to say it, but by the time about an hour had passed, I was already getting tired. I'm not usually the type to fall asleep during movies and then bother people with questions about what I had missed afterwards, but I guess I was particularly tired tonight.

I think the guys were starting to find out gradually that I was a pretty physically affectionate person, and I never really tried to hide it anyway. Risotto wasn't, though... He was as grumpy, stone-cold, and serious as they came. But he was slowly warming up to me, and I liked to think of him like a big, scary, but ultimately loving guard dog. And, right now, his shoulder was going to make for a nice place to rest my head against.

I brought my legs up and bent my knees a bit, sort of curling up on the couch, then I laid my head on Risotto's shoulder. Maybe most people would be nervous doing this or feel awkward showing affection, but I didn't. I've never really had a problem with this sorta thing. I didn't exactly know what to expect from him reaction-wise, but it nearly made me laugh when I felt him stiffen up. When I glanced at his face, his cheeks were a bit red. How cute... He looked like he was trying so hard to stare ahead, not react, and focus on the movie. Eventually, though, I think he adjusted to it, and he carefully draped an arm over my shoulder. He was so big and warm. He really was like a big dog. I wanted to squeeze him so hard that he'd get mad at me... It'd be funny.

By hour two of the movie, I had started to close my eyes and doze off, only waking up occasionally to watch the screen for a bit. There was something about black and white movies that felt calming to the soul and made me sleepy... Maybe because I used to watch them in my childhood, laying on the floor of my family room with a pillow under my head and imagining that I'd be just as pretty and famous as the women on screen when I grew up.

I think Formaggio was starting to fall asleep to, but I could tell he was fighting it. Probably because he snored a bit and he didn't want to disrupt the movie. I had gotten used to his snoring, though, since I shared a wall with the room he and Illuso have. Besides, ear plugs were always a pretty useful tool as well.

The sound of the TV began to become a low, hazy murmur as my eyes kept closing for longer and longer periods of time. At a certain point, I felt Risotto squeeze my shoulder a bit and murmur to me in his low, rumbling voice.

"Are you getting tired?"

I took a deep, sleepy breath before responding in a groggy whisper. "Kinda..."

"Why don't you go to bed?"

"Hm? What? No, it's fine... I can stay up and finish the movie."

"Whatever you say... You're a terrible liar, though."

I closed my eyes again after that and I don't remember opening them again. I vaguely remember at some point feeling Risotto sort of press his lips to the top of my head, but that could have been me dreaming or something, I dunno... Either way, I wouldn't have minded.

 

*

 

I don't know exactly how it happened or when it happened, but I guess I had fallen asleep... Actually, I heard Formaggio snoring. I guess he had fallen asleep too. I opened my eyes just a wink and saw that the TV had been turned off... Hm... I shifted my head a bit and when I looked up and saw Risotto's head towering above mine, his expression relaxed and his eyes closed, I finally realized I was sleeping with my head in his lap. Illuso seemed to be sleeping with his head on Risotto's shoulder, and Formaggio was lying with one leg across Illuso's lap and the other kicked up on the back of the couch. Normally I'd be shocked and move but, honestly, I was too sleepy to care. It was hard enough to see in the dark as is, and we were all comfortable. It kinda felt like we were a family in a moment like this...

I just closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

 

*

 

In the morning, I suppose Melone and Ghiaccio caught the four of us sleeping like this and thought it would be funny to scare us awake.

It was not.

I had shifted onto my back at some point during the night, so I was facing the ceiling when I and the other three were startled awake by the sound of Ghiaccio shouting. Then, like a chain reaction, Formaggio's foot, that was on the back of the couch, came down and kicked Illuso in the back of the head, which forced Illuso's forehead to collide with mine, which caused the back of my head to really collide with Risotto's lap. It all happened within like, three seconds, and it left Melone and Ghiaccio laughing. What a rude awakening...

"Gah! What the hell?" I groaned, rubbing my head.

"Asshole... You kicked me," Illuso muttered to Formaggio, pressing his hand to his head.

"Ghiaccio's the one that scared me awake! Blame him!" Formaggio pointed at the culprit, brows furrowed.

Risotto didn't talk, he just had his hand over his mouth and his eyes closed. His brows were tensed, and I think he was trying to keep from yelling. I probably really hurt him...

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

He nodded, responding in a strained, forcibly quiet whisper. "Yeah... I'm okay."

"Hah! You nearly knocked Althaia out with your giant forehead, Illuso" Melone teased.

Illuso glared at him before looking down at me, his expression uncharacteristically apologetic. "I'm sorry, Althaia..."

I finally sat up, huffing a bit. "It's okay, it wasn't your fault. Don't worry about it."

"You guys are dicks," Formaggio hissed towards the two pranksters, standing up and stretching.

"I'm gonna have a giant welt on my forehead," Illuso whined, quickly checking his reflection in a mirror. Typical.

I sighed and adjusted my sweater. "Put ice on it. That's what I'm gonna do."

"Doctor's orders?" Formaggio teased, opening the front door and tossing the news paper to Prosciutto, who had entered the room upon hearing yelling.

"Basically." I shrugged.

The other five went into the kitchen and began their days as usual, but Risotto had stayed put, still recovering, it seemed. It was an awkward situation, sure, and a type of pain that was difficult to talk about with a woman, I suppose, but I think he was more embarrassed than anything. I tried to change the topic to help.

"You want some coffee?" I asked him.

"Uh, yeah. Yes..."

"I'll make it."

Before I got up, though, I thought back to what I wasn't sure was a dream or not...

"Hey, uh... Odd question but... did you kiss me on the head last night?" Despite how weird this would be if it really was only a dream, I still grinned a bit.

He glanced up at me, and I could see an almost knowing glint in his dark eyes, but he ultimately looked back down and dismissed me. "No. Why would I do something like that?"

Slick bastard... But I knew better. It really did happen. It wasn't a dream.

I laughed a bit before playfully rolling my eyes. "Whatever you say, doll."

He looked up at me, his expression dropped. His face was flushed again, and I was sure he didn't expect me to call him that.

"What did you just–?" His question stopped abruptly.

While he was distracted, I suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, my chin over his shoulder and a soft smile on my face. He stayed frozen in place for a moment and so silent I couldn't even hear him breathe, but eventually, his hand reached up and patted me on the back.

Hah! I finally got a hug out of him!

After a moment, I pulled away like nothing happened, then ventured into the kitchen to begin making some coffee.

I loved movie nights...

 

*

 

Risotto had spent most of the day in his office since the morning, but while I was in the kitchen cleaning up, I heard his office door open and footsteps traveling upstairs. I quickly dried my hands and followed after him, intent on bothering him since I really hadn't all day. I knocked on his closed room door and waited to hear his voice in reply. It took forever, though... I think he didn't hear me.

So, I did something stupid and took a chance. I opened his door, only to find him standing in front of his mirror, shirtless and listening to music, cleaning his piercings. I stopped in my tracks, blood rushing to my cheeks... God, it was so hot to see him just... behaving like a normal guy. Doing things we all do. It makes him feel so much more human, so tangible, so relatable, like I can connect with him... And I got a better look at the faint scars on his arms and torso. He eventually turned around to look at me, his brows raised, and his white hair exposed now that his hood was off. I smiled nervously and waved, and he slipped his headphones off. His MP3 player was clipped to the waist of his pants.

"What do you want, Belladonna?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing! Not really... I just hadn't hung out with you all day," I replied.

"Hm, so that's why my day was so quiet and peaceful..."

I frowned a bit. "Hey!"

He snickered at me before grabbing a faded band t-shirt from off of his bed and throwing it on. "Come on, I'm joking... Kind of."

I walked into the room and sat on the edge of his bed. I was always kind of jealous that he got a bigger bed than the rest of us. "Do you wanna watch another movie tonight?"

"Another movie?"

"Yeah," I said, shrugging, "I had a good time last night. I was just wondering if you wanted to do it again."

He thought for a moment before sitting next to me. "I dunno what I'd even want to watch..."

"Me neither... I guess I just want to spend time with you. That's the point of it."

He was silent for a moment, staring at the floor, tapping his fingertips on the edge of the mattress. "I guess I wouldn't mind that..."

I know what we both were really thinking about. We both enjoyed cuddling each other on the couch. We wanted to fall asleep together again, but neither one of us would say it.

I laughed a little despite that, though. "See? You are like a big, scary lapdog. You seem so tough, but I know what you are deep down. You're just a stern, protective guy that wants love."

His head whipped around to face me, and his expression looked almost offended. "Why do you keep comparing me to a dog?? You always do that!"

I wore a beaming grin and leaned in closer to him in a teasing manner. "Well, 'cause dogs are awesome, and I think you're awesome! I really like them, and I really like you!"

He blinked a few times, staring down at me with a dumbfounded expression. "You... You really think so highly of me?"

"Mhm."

"What happened to me being a 'jerk'?"

"Well, you were being a jerk that day. And you kinda are one..." I giggled. "Yeah, you're a little mean but I can deal. I know you're a good guy on the inside."

He shook his head and huffed. "You think you know me so well, huh?"

"Yeah, I'd like to think so."

"You don't know me".

He seemed to be more bitter now. I sighed and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my cheek to his. "Come here..."

"W-what are you doing?" He attempted to squirm away from me.

"I wanna get to know you if I 'don't actually know you', Ris!"

He groaned and tried to pry me off of him, but I stayed put. "Argh–! You are so irritating!"

I laughed and nuzzled the side of his face before pressing a kiss to it, and he immediately froze up. "Stop trying to pretend that you hate me. I can see right through it!"

"I do hate you..." he mumbled, face warm.

I giggled again and pressed another obnoxious kiss to his cheek. "Oh yeah? Do you hate the way I make you feel?"

He refused to answer me, but it was answer enough. I swept his bangs out of his face and kissed his forehead this time, and I heard him let out a little embarrassed whimper. That only served to make him more angry in the end, though, and he tried to fight me off, but I sat on my knees, leaning him down and tipping his chin towards me.

"I heard that," I teased.

"Shut up!"

I stared down at him for a long while with a sly grin on my face and he looked up at me with furrowed brows and a frustrated expression. I loved when he looked at me like this because I knew he secretly liked the attention.

"My big, scary guard dog." I playfully tapped the end of his nose.

He had finally had enough and wrestled himself out of my arms. "One more wrong move and we're not watching a movie tonight!"

"Aw, come on! I was just playin' with ya, doll."

He growled under his breath and pointed to his door. "Alright, get out."

I rolled my eyes and let out an exaggerated huff, slipping off of his bed and heading towards the door. "Oh, fine!"

He crossed his arms over his chest and watched me go, but I soon turned around before he could react. I lunged towards him and grabbed his face, planting a loud, annoying kiss on his cheek again. He tore himself away, and with a heavy glower, pointed at the door again, forcing me to go. I actually did leave this time, but I had gotten what I wanted out of him anyway. I just wanted to piss him off a little.

We'd do movie night again some other time.

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

Are you guys confused yet? HAHA get love triangled idiots (affectionate)

Chapter 27: You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us

Summary:

Abbiati is tasked with an interrogation that leads to a very interesting conclusion about a certain someone.

Abbiati's perspective

Roma, Italia- 2001

 

I had a mission today: investigate the Stand users Dante and Gia battled last week.

After that day, they told us everything, and Chiara tasked me with finding the reason for it before she escalated it to her superiors. From the sounds of things, the Stand users were incompetent. They weren’t Passione, nor were they trained for combat. If they weren't Passione, they shouldn't have a Stand, plain and simple. So now…

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

I was now standing outside of a large prison, my red eyes narrowing from behind my glasses. The two idiotas got themselves thrown in jail and with my connections, I found out which and scheduled a meeting with them. Why did a mafiosa have connections with a prison? Well, the mafia works in very intrusive ways. It's seeped into the cracks of all facets of society and Italia’s infrastructure, including prisons.

Besides, I used to be the head of the prostitution ring, back before I transitioned and Passione still believed me to be a man. I tried to make the lives of the sex workers easier with that power but change was hard, and these people were stubborn. However, I left it better than I had found it, and that’s all I can say. Unfortunately, I had to step down because of death threats and pressure from my superiors after I transitioned.

Anyway, most of the men that worked in this prison frequented our escorts and I knew them as regular customers, which means that I could blackmail them when I pleased. And right now, that meant I could get an interview at this prison as a mafiosa and walk out as free as I was before.

I made my way into the prison and went through the usual routine: signing in, identification, security clearance, a pat down, and a lecture about the procedures and regulations for the interview. The prison guards didn't want to put the two of them together but I insisted on doing so. It’d get this over quicker, and I also wasn't afraid of their puny Stands.

When I walked into the interview room after a guard opened the heavy, mechanical door for me, I studied the two young men in front of me. One with bluish twists in his hair and the other with a dark, shaggy head of hair. I was told by Dante who was who. Pompelo looked nervous. He was fidgeting with his handcuffs, hands on the table. He had bandages and stitches on his head. The skin on his body was purplish and bruised from DESTROYA. Disgusting. Nocciola looked bitter and it was obvious he was still recovering from gunshot wounds, well with the bulky bandages under his prison uniform and the sling that kept his arm still.

When I sat down at the metal interview table, I retrieved a notepad and pen from my breast pocket. I always kept one on me, no matter what. It was perfect for situations like this. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose before clicking my pen, eyeing the two men in front of me. I waited to speak, my serious demeanor on high, placing bets on who would break first.

It was, as I expected, Pompelo.

“What are you?! You a cop or something?!” he shouted, nearly jumping out of his chair.

“No, quite the opposite,” I replied in a low, smooth voice. “However, what I am and who I am isn't necessary information.”

Nocciola raised his dark brows. “Let me guess… You’re connected to those guys we fought on the train?”

“You’d be correct.”

“Are you coming to kill us?!” Pompelo shrieked.

I deadpanned and tapped my pen on the table. “No. If my colleagues had wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. No question.”

“Then what do you want from us?” Nocciola asked, impatient. “My arm hurts like hell. I wanna go back to lying down.”

“I need to ask you about your Stands,” I said, cutting to the chase.

“You wanna know about our Stands? Why don’t you just ask your buddies?” he gruffed.

“Yeah! It's not like they didn’t see ‘em! And besides, why would we tell you anything anyway?” Pompelo’s voice was so grating.

“I don’t care about your Stand’s abilities,” I began. “I want to know how you got them.”

They blinked at me a few times before looking between each other. I raised a brow, studying them. Why were they acting so strangely? It was an easy question to answer.

“What do you mean?” Nocciola asked again.

“I mean exactly what I said. How did you acquire them?”

“We didn't ‘get’ them, though…” he answered. “They just showed up one day. Before we even knew each other.”

“Yeah. Like we were born with them or something!” Pompelo added.

My eyes widened in realization only slightly before I began rapidly scribbling down notes in my pad. “So, you’re saying you’ve never seen a Stand arrow?”

“What's a ‘Stand arrow’? ” Pompelo furrowed his brows.

“If you don't know, then it doesn't matter,” I said. “You both were born with Stands, that’s the point.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nocciola muttered, gesturing around weakly. “Y'know, there’s this whole legend about how Stand users are drawn to each other. Like their paths are destined to cross just because of their abilities. I dunno if I believe all of that, but maybe that’s why Pompelo and I met…”

I listened carefully before looking away, lost in thought. How curious… Stand users are fated to meet? I wondered why…

“Where did you hear this?” I asked.

Nocciola shrugged. “Why should I tell you?”

My brows tensed. These guys really were stupid… I stood up, leaning with my hands on the table and towering over them. I rarely raised my voice unless I needed to pressure someone, but I did now. “Do you really think you’re in a position of power here? You’re an injured prisoner wearing handcuffs and I’m a fully-able Stand user who has every guard in this prison under my thumb. So, tell me, are you going to make another mindless decision in a long string of them? Or are you going to answer my question so that we can go on our separate paths and I never have to interact with you again?”

“What’s even in it for us?” Nocciola rolled his eyes.

“Well, I dunno… Sounds like she can make our lives worse,” Pompelo whined. 

“Shut up, coglioni! I'm trying to negotiate! Don't admit that she has more power!”

I watched the two argue back and forth for a few more seconds before I huffed and slammed my fist on the table. “Shut up! This could have been over with two minutes ago! You’ve left me no choice.”

My Stand, Chemical Romance materialized on the ground beside my boots– a broad, pitch-black creature with long claws, a gas mask, a noose for a lower body, and a nun’s veil –and dragged itself towards the two men. They jumped and tried to scoot their chairs away, but their legs were handcuffed to the bolted-down table. 

“By the grace of God, you will feel its poison,” I declared gravely, eyeing them with no emotion, like a machine. “Be afraid.”

Chemical Romance let out an inhuman growl, muffled by the mask, tubes attached to its chest, and Pompelo whimpered.

“Hey, hey, hey, we’ll tell you! We’ll tell you!” he shrieked.

“You idiota! We have Stands! We'll just fight it off!” Nocciola shouted. 

Before he could speak again, Chemical Romance lunged at him and grabbed him by the ankle, and his eyes soon rolled back. He slumped over and his face slammed into the metal table. He was out like a light. I then turned my attention to Pompelo, burning holes into him with my eyes. I had to take out the leader of the two because I knew this guy would be easy to crack.

Pompelo shoved at Nocciola, but he wouldn't wake up. “Nocci! Wake up! What the hell did that thing do to you?!”

I leaned in closer, speaking through gritted teeth. “He won't wake up till I let him wake up! Now, answer my question or else you’ll be next!”

He cowered so much in my presence now it was pathetic. He could barely speak without stumbling over his words. “It was just something this other Stand user told us years ago! This old guy! He’s probably dead by now! H–honest!”

I analyzed each and every twitch in his terrified face, every waver in his voice, my lips twisted into a frown. It seemed to be that he was telling the truth. “Was this ‘old guy’ Passione? ”

“I–I don’t know! We didn't ask… Please, you gotta believe me! Just… C–call off your freaky Stand!”

I was tired of his whining. I had Chemical Romance grab his ankle with its other hand, and he winced before almost immediately calming down.

“Woah, wait…” he began, voice now steady. “That feels good. What’d you do to me?”

“I'm controlling the chemicals in your brain and body. I’d list them all but you’re probably not smart enough to understand them. But listen carefully to this: one wrong move and I could give you an incurable brain disorder, alright? Now think really hard for a moment when I ask you this next question.”

Normally he’d probably be crying like a baby by now, but thanks to my Stand, he stayed sedated and nodded. “Alright. What is it?”

“Are there any more people like you out there that you know? Natural-born-Stand users, I mean.”

He looked off to the side in thought for a moment before shrugging. “I can’t say they were natural-born but we have met about four other Stand users– two of them were your men and the other was that same old guy I mentioned earlier. Oh, and uh… the last one was this weird chick who was on the street. But that was a while ago.”

I mulled over his words before picking up my pen and notepad again and jotting the details down. “Did you ever get a name for her?”

“Ah, yeah… I think it was uh… Cedar– Hah! No. That’s a tree!” He laughed to himself. His laugh sounded annoying. “Cedra, maybe…”

I nodded and wrote that down too. “Alright… That’s all I need for now.”

I recalled Chemical Romance and the macabre beast disappeared into thin air. Almost immediately, Nocciola woke up, head whipping about in a confused panic, and Pompelo went back to hyperventilating. Ugh, what a bother…

“The hell did you do to me, you witch?!” Nocciola growled. 

I stuck my notepad back in my pocket before rolling my eyes, shaking my dark hair out of my face. “Oh, calm down, I could have given you a seizure or schizophrenia instead. Would you like that better?”

He kept really quiet after that. I scoffed a bit with a self-satisfied smirk on my dark lips before making my way to the door of the cement room.

“I’ll be in touch, should I need anymore information from you,” I announced as the guards opened the door for me. “For your own sakes, be more cooperative next time. I really do hate wasting my time.”

I stepped out of the interview room while the two cazzones argued with each other over what Pompelo had told me while Nocciola was unconscious.

I went through a similar process to leave the prison– lecture, pat down, security clearance, signing out –and when I finally stepped outside, the fresh air around me replacing the stuffy, stale air of the prison, I felt like I could really breathe again.

I was walking back to the train station, the tail of my coat swaying behind me. That interrogation had given me a lot to think about. Mostly in terms of the new girl, Stella. As far as I could tell, she didn't have a Stand, but what if she was a natural-born user that just needs to unlock her potential? Could that be why Chiara was drawn in her direction in that alleyway?

She had said it felt like the red string of fate was pulling her around the corner and down the alley towards the girl. Like it was destiny. If Stand users have no choice but to collide, perhaps that was a sign that Stella could be pushed to develop her Stand. We could always use another Stand user, seeing as our team had one more position with open availability and she needed a place to stay, but she didn’t seem like the type to want to join us.

Then again, no one ever really wants to join Passione… It just sort of becomes our only option at a certain point. Perhaps the longer she stays with us, the more she'll consider it.

No matter what, though, I’d have to breach the whole subject with Chiara first. As second-in-command, there is a lot of power I do have over the team, but Chiara always has the final say, and until the day I die, I’ll defend her right to that.

When the train finally arrived, I boarded it, and I was then allowed even more time to think. My thoughts had mostly shifted to Chiara, try as I might to stay in a task-oriented mindset. It’s just that she knew how to get under my skin in the right way, be a part of my brain… But I still had so much guilt when I thought about how much I loved her… When I thought about how much of an abomination I was.

I was blasphemous. I was abhorrent in the eyes of the church not only because of who I loved but because I didn't love the original body God gave me… Every day I battled with this disgust I felt towards myself. My fear that I’d be going to Hell, but…

No, no, no! I can’t think like that! God knows me in my heart. That's what I have to tell myself. He sees my struggles and will forgive me for my sins.

Just to be sure, though, I retrieved the black and red rosary I had tucked into the vest under my suit, and held it in my hands, whispering a prayer onto it.

I hated these stupid religious compulsions of mine, but I guess that's what happens when you’re raised extremely catholic and spend your young life being a nun… I may have abandoned my habits and post but I would never abandon God. I couldn’t… Even if according to the church, I’d be denied a place in Heaven.

Psh… Everyone in Passione would.

*

Once I had gotten back to our home and let myself in with my copy of the key, I was greeted by a lively household, as it usually was. It was nice to see… This job was much more cushy and homey than my previous one had been. I took my long trench coat off to reveal the black, sleeveless vest with a window in the chest I wore under it, and the belt my boots were strapped to. I then hung it in the coat closet near the door. I let out a soft breath. It smelled like someone had been cooking.

When I walked into view of the living room, I was greeted with a symphony of, “Ciao, Ms. Abbiati!”

I nodded to them but otherwise kept a straight face, even though it made me feel sort of warm and fuzzy.

Elektra was sitting on the couch, braiding Gia’s long hair, Stella was curled up on the bay window seat like she was most of the time, and Dante was sitting on the floor in front of the TV, playing video games. This place felt like a home.

Gia and Dante looked over at me but Gia, who I typically considered my little shadow most of the time, spoke up first.

“How did the interview go?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said. “They were just as stupid as you both had described them. They thought they had the power to negotiate with me for information.”

Dante, now looking back at the TV, fingers intently pressing the buttons on his controller, snickered a bit. “Fucking morons…”

“So what ended up bein’ the final verdict?” Elektra chimed in with her usual peachy voice.

I sighed. “That’s for Chiara to know first. Speaking of which…”

“She’s upstairs in the room,” Dante finished my thought for me.

I nodded and traveled up the narrow stairs to the room which she and I shared. I liked the bland, inoffensive decor in the house. It felt like a standard childhood home that you had never visited but still had vague dreams about. Once I was standing in front of it, I knocked on our door before opening it and stepping in.

The sight I was met with was a still-in-uniform Chiara seemingly stretching, doing a handstand without any extra support. She had incredible upper body strength. She grinned at me, the bells on her hat hanging vertical to her head.

“Ah, Mora, è bonu vidiriti!” she greeted me.

She then twisted her body to face the opposite direction before somehow contorting herself into a tight, graceful flip, landing on her feet in front of me.

“How are you?” she asked.

Despite myself, I let out a small huff of amusement, a little smile spreading across my dark lips. No matter what, she was always an entertainer at heart. “I’m well. And you?”

“I can’t complain. I was just stretching and practicing some old tricks while I had the free time. How did the interview go?”

“It went okay… The subjects were a tad thick in the head but my Stand easily took care of them.”

“What did you have to do?”

“I had to make the aggressive one unconscious and calm the nervous one down enough to get any answers out of him.” 

“Ah, I see! I knew you were the perfect woman for the job! What information did you gather?”

I retrieved the small notepad from my breast pocket and flipped it open. “They said they were born with their Stands. They didn’t acquire them. And that once an old man told them that Stand users are drawn towards each other, like they're fated to meet because of their peculiar abilities.”

Chiara’s expression didn't reveal much, but she held her chin in thought. “Hmm… How interesting. A born Stand user? This is a first for me.”

“Same here. But it got me thinking…”

“About?”

“Stella. How you said you had felt pulled towards her in that alleyway. What if…”

“You don’t mean…?”

“She could potentially be a born Stand user who has yet to awaken her Stand.”

Chiara raised her brows, and I could tell that I had sparked a trail of ideas in her mind. “Hm… I’d like to test it out. But I don't want to scare the poor girl into activating it. And I won't force her to use it.”

“If her Stand is powerful enough, she’d be a great asset to this team. You know we have the monetary allowance for one more.”

She wore a more serious expression, her command stern. “No one will pressure her into joining. She is a guest until she’s ready to be on her own. And if she wants to join, it’s her choice. I’ll let her come to that decision on her own.” 

I was mildly taken aback but I simply nodded and stared down at the floor. “Yes, I understand.”

She was silent for a moment before she approached and tipped my chin upward, making me face her. “I apologize for my sharp tone, Mora. I know you’re only looking to better this team.”

“It’s alright…”

“I just want her to have options, unlike what we had.”

“I understand, I do. I think your effort is very noble. But even so, should she have a powerful Stand, someone should still teach her how to use it, whether she joins or not.”

She smiled. “I agree. I think she could learn a lot from us.” She glanced around, pondering before beginning again. “One of us should summon our Stand in front of her and watch her reaction. If she can see it, well…”

I wore a determined expression and nodded. “Good plan. I can work with that. Tell me when, and I can do it–"

“Oh, Mora, perhaps…” She grimaced awkwardly. “Perhaps someone with a… less visibly intimidating Stand should do it. If she can see it, I don't want to terrify her. I hope that doesn't offend.”

I was, again, a bit stunned but I quickly shook it off. She wasn't wrong… “I can see how my Stand is not the most… inviting. Tell me who should reveal theirs and I’ll give them the order.”

Chiara shook her head, leaning in closer. “That can wait til tomorrow. You’ve had a long day, and you’ve done a satisfactory job, as always. Why don't you relax? Turn in for the day, yeah? I made dinner. I’ve saved some for you.”

I genuinely grinned and nodded, my heart fluttering a bit. “Alright, alright… I’ll retire for the night. Thank you, Chiara.”

“No, thank you, amuri miu. ” She held my hands and pressed a light kiss to my cheek.

I squeezed her hands in response before chuckling. “You’re being romantic again. Are you meaning to?”

“I’m trying to be appreciative.” She pulled away. “Scusa… ”

I nodded. I almost wished she was being romantic. “It's alright… I liked it anyway.”

“I can do it again.”

This time, she seemed to be teasing me. Especially because as she leaned in to kiss my face again, she was laughing, and so was I. But I let her do it. I loved her and her kisses. It was a simple pleasure but I did.

At least, I enjoyed them in the moment. I didn't enjoy the Catholic guilt afterwards.

But, oh well… If we dulled our lives simply to avoid discomfort then what would we even be living for? The best things are found in the moments of reprieve between uncomfortable times.

I eventually gently pushed her away when her playful kisses began to be too much, and she seemed satisfied enough on her own because she got me to loosen up out of my on-duty persona.

“Alright, enough. I get it,” I said, my cheeks tingling with blush.

“Right. Now that you’re in the right mood, let's eat, alright? I’ll pour you a glass of wine with it as well,” Chiara announced, leading me towards the door.

“How thoughtful.”

“You make a better woman out of me, cara."

We continued to talk as we went down the rickety old steps, like a comfortable married couple.

She’s shown me more love than my God ever has. That I'm sure of…

 

-- Chapter End --

🧪🧪🧪

Notes:

Listen to You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison by My Chemical Romance! Also check out my Tumblr (@theplayersau) for a Stand profile of Chemical Romance and original art! This was my first "long" chapter so hope you guys like it!

Chapter 28: Curse of Curves

Summary:

A bloody meet-cute and a nice lunch!

Elektra's perspective

Napoli, Italia- 2000

 

A city-wide emergency mission given to every member of Passione in the area by Napoli’s Capo Polpo. That’s why I was running down the paved street, ducking in-and-out of alleyways, chasing after some hopeless rat that had a good reason to scram. If a Capo called for your head and offered a reward, you’d better believe every mafioso in the area would come crawling outta the woodwork looking for a quick buck. 

Me personally, though? I was just in it for the fun!

I was trailing this debt collector, Pesto, through a bad end of Napoli. He was caught ‘taking commission’ from the debts he collected for Capo Polpo, which is a nice way of sayin’ he was embezzling and stealin’ tribute money. And look, all I’ll say is you wouldn't catch me doing something so stupid…

I was sticking close to a wall, listening out for some panicked footsteps, when all of the sudden, thudding ones were approaching from the adjacent alley. They sounded like boots, if I had to guess. And with their arrival also came the sound of flighty scuffling and retreating footsteps from the same way.

“You dumbass! You think you can run from a gun? I’ll just shoot!” a smooth voice called out with a disbelieving tone.

I then watched my target run out of the alleyway, while a man clad in a white and blue cropped, turtleneck sweater, a matching cap, and rust-red, tiger print leather pants followed after him. He had a purple revolver in hand, held like a true marksman.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn't a bit distracted by watching him from behind, but quickly, the situation dawned on me once again and I chased after the pair.

“Hey! Wait!” I called out, sprinting as fast as I could.

The gunman’s chase only faltered for a moment. “Back off! This guy’s mine! I've trailed him this far!”

“So’ve I! That's why I’m followin’ you!”

“Too bad! This one’s goin’ to Team Bucciarati!”

He lunged forward, freeing up his left hand, attempting to reach out towards Pesto– who was only a foot or so away, panting like a madman. But suddenly, the gunman’s body stopped cold in its tracks, unable to make contact with the object of its pursuit. There was a small cut on his exposed lower back now.

The gunman was stopped in place and his dark eyes were wide as he visibly grappled with the strange sensation in his body. “What the– hell?!"

“I’ll take it from here…”

I stepped forward, my Stand floating off to my side. There was a cocky smirk upon my face. “Primadonna! Make quick work of him!”

In a flash of pink hues, Primadonna darted forward and grabbed a whimpering Pesto by the collar of his shirt, its long, billowing skirt flowing as it whirled around and slammed the guy into the nearest brick wall. With a crash and a harsh yelp, he was out cold, slumping to the ground there.

“Damn… Guess I went a little hard on him. I didn't exactly want him unconscious,” I said to myself, tapping my chin.

“Hey, lady!” the gunman behind me shouted before grunting. “The hell'd you do to me?! I can’t move! This something your Stand is doin’?”

I turned around, my eyes wide behind my shades. “Y-you can see it? So, you’re–”

“A Stand user, yeah, yeah. Come on!” I could see him grimace in effort, as if he was trying to move but couldn't. “Let me outta this… whatever the hell you’ve got goin’ on!”

I sighed and shook my head, walking up to him. “Sorry, I can't. Not until this guy wakes up and I can secure the mission.” I then had Primadonna contort his body into a normal standing position. “I can, however, let you stand up straight.”

“I was this close to having him!” He looked down a bit with wide eyes when he realized he didn't gesture the way he meant to. “Pretend I did the… Like the thing with my hand.”

I raised mine and made a pinching motion. “Like this?”

“Yeah, pretend I did that.” He then cleared his throat and went back to what he intended to yell about. “And then you come out of nowhere with your Stand and try to steal some good cash and glory for me! You’re a real cheat, you know that?”

I laughed a bit, but it wasn’t out of condescension. I enjoyed his antics. “What’s your name, huh? I can’t refer to you as the 'hot gunman with really tight pants’ when I describe to my team who I embarrassed today.”

I think he short circuited a bit. I threw so many things at him at once that he didn't know what emotion or tone to respond with. “Hey, wait a minute! You didn't 'embarrass’ anyone– Woah, woah, woah… Hold on… What’d you just call me?” His tanned face then flushed slightly.

I grinned mischievously. “You heard me.”

He glanced away for a second before huffing. “Mista. Guido Mista. And you’re…?”

“Lampone. Elektra Lampone,” I mimicked him, then held my hand out in order to shake his.

He made a bit of a face at me when I silently commanded Primadonna to have him shake my hand in return. “Wait, so, your Stand controls people’s body movements? That’s weird…” He then switched gears and took on a sultrier tone. “But you could do a lot of creative stuff with it if you had a willing participant…”

I didn't know what to do but laugh, trying to fight off the rosiness in my cheeks. “You’re forward!”

“Easy to be when you’re so–” He stopped himself, his eyes landing on something before us. “He’s waking up!”

I whipped my head around to see Pesto groaning and raising his bloodied body from the ground. Not on my watch!

Primadonna spun around and knocked him across the jaw with its diamond-ring studded fist, blood flying from his mouth. Just like Mista, the man now couldn't move unless I allowed him to.

“Nah, nah, nah, park it, bud,” I said, standing over him. “We’re gonna take a nice little trip and you’re gonna come along ‘willingly', alright?” 

“W–why can't I move?!” Pesto growled, staring up at me. “Did Polpo send you?”

I smiled sweetly. “No… I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart.” My expression dropped into something serious, and I rammed my first into his cheek as he whined. “Keep quiet, don't bother screaming for help, and wait with me for my associates to pick you up, alright?”

He then, like a puppet, stood up, per Primadonna’s command, and followed behind me like a soldier in strict formation. Now with a smug look on my face, I walked past Mista again.

“Hey, sorry to cut this little meeting short, bello, but I’ve got some cash to collect. I’ll see ya later.”

“You’re gonna ‘see me later’?" he asked, raising a brow at me.

I nodded and gestured to his arm. “Yeah, look down.”

He did as I said and when he did, he saw that the sleeve of his sweater was rolled up on his right side and there was my number written on his inner forearm in pen. When he looked back up at me, I waved the pen that I kept in my bun, clicking my tongue and winking.

“How did you–?” I cut him off by booping his nose.

“Sleight of hand, learned it in middle school.” I stuck the pen back in my hair. “Anyway, you should call me–”

“Ugh, God! Would you two shut up already?! Do whatever you want with me, just stop flirting!”

We both glared at him, and he glanced away.

“I’ll call you,” Mista confirmed. “But, uh… Aren’t you gonna let me free?”

“Nope!”

“What?!”

“Not until this guy’s handed off and my reward is guaranteed. Can’t have you stealin’ from me.”

“Oh, like you didn't just steal from me? Come on! We can split it, y’know? Just let me go!”

“No, sorry… Can’t do it. See ya later!”

I laughed as he continued to protest, forcing Pesto to follow in my wake. We walked down the parallel alleys as I tried to find a connecting main road to wait in and ping my team the location of. It took a long time because I guess I traveled further than I had remembered. The whole time, though, it didn’t stop Pesto from complaining.

“God, are you really the one that’s gonna turn me in? You don't even know your way around Napoli’s downtown,” he gruffed.

“Shush! We’re almost there, I can feel it,” I said, my brows tensing.

“You really did a number on my head… If I ever get out of this mess, I’ll remember that you owe me for my medical bill.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…”

I was about to say something else when I was tackled to the ground, and in my surprise, Primadonna dispersed and its hold on Pesto nullified.

Before I could even see who tackled me, I instinctively began fighting them off, gritting my teeth and swinging in front of me.

“I'm not letting you steal this from me, Elektra! Even if you’re so hot you’re outta my league!” Mista shouted, straddling me and holding me down long enough to distract me from activating my Stand again.

“Mista? How did you–!”

“You should really know your Stand’s range before you get so cocky!”

Pesto looked at his hands, moving them about. “I'm free? I'm free!”

“Oh, no you’re not!” Mista began to get off of me, gun drawn once more.

“So long, lovebirds!” Pesto backed out into the street, mock-saluting us.

Mista and I both got up, wrestling with each other as we tried to reach Pesto again, but he stepped out into the street.

“The next time I see you, I’ll be handing you my–”

He was cut off when a car came roaring down the road from out of nowhere, colliding with him and flattening him to the pavement. The screech of the wheels on the road as they met resistance and the sound of metal colliding with a body and ripping through flesh was something I’d never been able to get out of my head ever since.

Mista and I stood at the edge of the road, our clothes and faces spattered with stray blood from a now deceased Pesto. We were completely frozen and unsure of what to do, just watching the crimson liquid flow out from under the now stopped car as a couple of teenagers screamed in horror and called the police.

Damn, looks like no one would be getting the money…

 

*

 

Napoli, Italia- 2001

“You ready, Stells?” I asked in a chipper voice, keeping her hand in mine.

The big-eyed, dark-haired girl looked up at me with a slight pout on her face. “I guess… But why do I have to come along? I’m not a mafiosa."

I walked along the sidewalk with a perky bounce in my step, like nothing in the world could touch me. Stella wasn't as excitable as I was, but that was okay. I’d be enthusiastic enough for the both of us!

“Well, the others are busy, and I couldn't just leave you at that boring house all alone! So, you’re coming along with me today, little buddy!” I replied, grinning at her.

Despite the fact that I knew she wanted to keep a straight face, she did smile a bit after I called her that. “So, where are we headed then?”

“To a ristorante just a block from where we are now! I should warn ya, though, these guys we’re meetin’ up with are kinda… weird.”

“Weird in what way?”

“Ah, well, not in any bad ways! They’re just… quirky, y’know? A lot of our team is pretty serious, but these guys are more silly than serious.”

“Huh… Anything I should know before I meet them, then?”

“Well, there’s one guy you should watch out for. His name is Fugo, and he and I go way back! But, uh… He’s kinda got anger issues so just be polite and respectful– like you usually are –and you’ll be just fine!”

She nodded before looking back down at the ground. She always tended to do that… I knew she had so much light inside of her, but the world had made her feel the need to cover it. One day I wanted to get her to smile, and I mean really smile! She was like a sad kitten who hadn't gotten enough love in her life, and that made me sad!

It wasn't too long before we entered the ristorante where we’d be meeting with the others at. It was a pretty fancy place. Stella probably hadn't eaten at a spot this nice before! I’d be sure to buy her lunch before we left.

I opened the door for her and let her go through first, then we both walked up to the host’s counter.

“Do you have a reservation?” the man asked.

“Mhm!" I chirped, nodding. “We’re part of the Bucciarati reservation.”

He seemed a little shocked when I said that, but he hid it behind his professionalism. “Yes, of course, right this way…”

He led us to a private dining room off to the side of the ristorante, and before I even stepped in, I could tell there was nonsense already happening…

“Stop eating from plates that aren’t yours! It’s rude and shows you have no table manners! Didn't your parents teach you anything?!" a really very angry male voice yelled.

“Agh–! Stop! I was just tryin’ to–” this next guy, whose voice was a bit whiner, was cut off, probably by a blow of some kind.

Then came a smooth chuckle from a third man. “It’s like dinner and a show, hah! And, I mean, for the record, I did say he could have it–"

“Shut up, Mista! Don't make excuses for him!”

There was a bit of a commotion before the other guy piped up. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't gut ya!”

Oh, yikes… I grimaced a bit. Stella looked scared standin’ next to me, and her expression showed as much, well, with her eyes all buggy and glassy.

“W–what’s happening…?” she whispered to me.

I put on a brave face for her and chuckled nervously. “It’s fine! Everything’s all good! I’ll show ya!”

I breached the doorway, Stella at a heel beside me, a confident grin on my face. The fighting in the room stopped suddenly upon our emergence.

“Hey, hey, let’s all calm down!” I said. “At least lemme get my business over with before you all get at each other’s throats again!”

Fugo, the angry, nearly ginger-haired guy that he was, rolled his violet eyes and sat back down in his chair. He didn't exactly look happy to see me. “Oh, perfect timing," he snarked in his usual uptight voice. “Now Narancia will think he’s off the hook.”

“But I didn't do anything!” Narancia shouted in an exasperated manner. He was a spunky boy that, as long as I had known him, always wore an orange headband in his messy dark hair.

“Bucciarati ain't here, Elektra,” Mista said, waving his fork in the air as he talked. “You just missed him, actually.”

“Oh, well, guess I’ll just have to wait then!” I shrugged, smiling. “And treat my friend here to a nice lunch.” I put my hand on Stella’s back and nudged her forward. “This is Stella.”

She looked down shyly, refusing to meet their gaze.

“Is she Passione?" Fugo asked.

“Nope!” I said.

His brows tensed. “Why are you bringing a civilian into Passione affairs?”

“She’s just staying with us for a while until she gets back on her feet, that’s all!”

“Hmph… I guess the trend of Passione extending help to a charity case isn't exclusive to our team.”

“Wait,” Narancia interjected. “So, she’s not Passione? Just a regular kid?” He looked at Stella now. “How old are you?”

“Uh, seventeen…” she mumbled.

“Oh, hey, you’re my age!”

“Is she a, uh, St–" Mista began but I rushed over and put my hand over his mouth, the rest of his words muffled. 

“Aha! No, no. We’ll save that for some other time!” I only offered a strained smile.

Mista swatted my hand away, grumbling. “Hey, watch it. What’s your deal?”

I gestured at my throat for him to 'cut it out’. "Nothing!"

Fugo kicked Mista’s leg from under the table. “Are you that empty-headed, Mista? Drop it.”

He held his hands out. “Alright, alright, I get it. Geez…”

Stella perked up now. “What’s going on?”

I shook my head and came to her side. “Nothin', don’t worry about it. Just Passione business, nothing you wanna be involved with.”

She nodded, accepting that answer for now.

“I don't get it…” Narancia muttered before Fugo elbowed him. “Gah–! Hey!”

I sat down at the table with the three guys, but Stella didn't seem like she wanted to sit down with us. She was reluctant for some reason and hung back, still standing behind me. I glanced at her from over my shoulder, my pink eyes peeking out from the side of my sunglasses.

“What’s wrong, hun?” I whispered.

“I–I want to sit by myself… By the window,” she replied quietly, a sense of shame in her voice.

She wasn't very social and much preferred watchin’ people over interacting with them. She liked to spend all her time sunbathing on a windowsill like a cat. It was kinda cute, but she’s been with us for a while and she was kinda hard to crack. I wanted to bring her outta her shell.

I sighed before nodding towards the table near the window. “Go ahead. Lookit the menu and tell me whatchya want, okay?”

Her eyes lit up a bit. “Wait, you… You’re buying me lunch? Elektra, you don't have to do that. You’re always getting me things and I have no way to pay you back.”

I laughed. “Oh, Stellar Stella, you don’t need to pay me back at all! I’m doin’ this ‘cause you’re my little buddy, alright? I care about ya. Now, go on, order somethin’.”

I watched her expression slowly morph into something warm and she nodded, heading to her own table to look at the menu. It was nice to see. I then turned back to the guys and both Mista and Narancia had a bit of a grin on their faces.

“So, you’re like her Bucciarati, huh?” Mista teased. “Treatin’ her to the life she’s never led before.”

“Me? Oh, no,” I contested with a chuckle. “Chiara’s got that all covered. She’s the motherly one, y’know?”

“It’s still nice… You're acting like a big sister,” Narancia said.

I thought for a moment… “Hm, I guess you’re right…”

I had always been an only child. I never got to have siblings, no matter how much I wanted them. Maybe if I had siblings, my parent’s attention would have been split between us, and I wouldn't have had so much pressure put on me… I know that Fugo knows what that’s like. In fact, that’s the reason we met at all.

We were both on accelerated courses in our school, but he surpassed his benchmarks much faster than I did, so he was younger than me. However, through that, we got to know each other a bit. I think I hadn’t really had much of a friend before meeting him. Our families knew each other, so they had me bring him to our school’s I cento giorni so that he could have some of the experiences a normal kid would have too. It was awkward and tense because neither one of us really wanted to be there, but–

“Elektra.”

I was brought back to reality with a tap to my shoulder. Stella was to my side, holding the menu.

“I, uh… know what I want to order,” she said.

I nodded. “Awesome! What is it?”

She pointed to an item on the menu, an insalatone.

“Cool! I’ll order it for you when the cameriere comes around again. You can go back to your table.”

“Or,” Fugo began, “you could stay here and order it for yourself. You’re at a ristorante, so why not act like it?”

Stella was a bit stunned that he even addressed her. She clammed up immediately, fiddling with the ribbon on her dress.

“Man, who cares?” Mista spoke between sipping his small glass of wine. “Let her go back to her table.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re scary or anything,” Narancia added. “Well, maybe Fugo is kinda scary…”

“I’m not 'scary’, I’m just particular. And I enjoy being correct. That’s not a crime, is it?” Fugo huffed.

I didn't want to push her too hard, but I also wanted to try to help Stella loosen up, so I turned to look at her and spoke quietly. “Yeah, why don’t you sit with us? You can sit by me.”

“But I don't know anybody…” she muttered.

“Well, you didn't know me or anyone else on the team until about four months ago and now look at you. You only meet new people when you put yourself out there.”

She hesitated for a moment before eventually relenting and pulling out a chair at the table, sitting in between Mista and I. I was proud of her already, but even more so when she managed to speak up.

“Um… Buongiorno, my name is Stella… It’s nice to meet you all.”

I wore a beaming grin and pulled her into a side hug. “Wow! Lookit you go!”

She tried to keep from smiling and rolled her eyes a bit. “Yeah, okay…”

“Hey, Stella! I’m Narancia.” He too wore a wide smile. He was always pretty friendly.

“Hi…”

Mista nodded in her direction. “‘Sup? The name’s Mista.”

She waved halfheartedly. Before Fugo could even speak, though, she pointed at him. “You're Fugo. That’s what Elektra said. She also said that you’re angry and you two go ‘way back’ .”

He wore a surprised expression before raising a brow. “D–did she? Well, I’m not– I mean, I am– I do have… some problems controlling my anger but…” He shook it off and cleared his throat. “That’s my business, anyhow. It's nice to meet you.” He then glared at me.

“How do you all know each other, anyway?” Stella asked.

“Well,” I chimed in, “I met Fugo when we were in grade school, then after he went to college, I didn’t see him for a while till I joined Passione. I met Mista here while crashing one of his missions. And I met the rest of the team when Chiara and their leader, Bucciarati, had to clean up the mess I had made.”

Mista leaned forward in his chair, getting a bit riled up. “Which I'm still pissed about! You play dirty, Lampone. I had it handled, then you come outta nowhere and try to take over for yourself!”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Really? I thought we were past this. It was a city-wide urgent mission, and I happened to be in Napoli, so I had as much of a right to it as any one of you.”

“Not when I was just a few steps away from snagging the guy and you use your Stand to–!”

Fugo kicked him from under the table again and he winced in pain, the dinnerware and glasses clinking together.

“Ow, dude… What the hell?!” Mista yelled.

“You loudmouth! Shush! ” Fugo snapped. 

“What’s a ‘Stand’?” Stella asked, looking around at us.

Every one of us Stand users at the table grimaced, mumbling various different excuses, trying to avoid this conversation. I didn't know if she was ready for it yet…

“It’s, uh… Why don't we talk to Chiara about it when we get home, 'K?” I suggested, mentally crossing my fingers that she’d take the bait and hopefully forget about it.

She eyed me up and down critically. I knew she wasn't stupid. She could see through us, she knew we were all hiding something. But behind my sunglasses, my eyes were begging for her to just let it go for now, and luckily, she did.

“Alright…” she finally replied in a knowing voice.

 

*

Lunch came and went, and once I heard Bucciarati’s deep voice enter the front of the ristorante, I quickly got up, handled my business with him, and then collected Stella again so we could go back home. As I was heading out, though, I felt a hand reach out and grasp my forearm, stopping me in my tracks. I turned around to see Mista standing before me, a contested expression resting on his face beneath his hat. I raised a brow at him, studying the strange look in his dark eyes from behind my shades.

“Hey, Mista. What’s up?” I asked, my voice quieter than usual. I don't know why I did that, but I just intuitively knew that this was a sensitive moment. I felt it in my gut.

He glanced around for a moment before responding in a hushed tone. “That girl, Stella… She doesn't know what a Stand is? Did I mess something up for you guys? I dunno if it was ‘sposed to be, like, a secret or somethin’...”

“Ah, okay. So that's what this is about. Uh, no, she doesn't know what they are. Maybe she’ll go easy on me and not ask, but she’s the inquisitive type so I have a feeling she’ll ask somebody. But hey, it’s fine.”

“Really? ‘Cause you kinda seem like you were freaked out back there. Y’know, with how you came over and covered my mouth.”

I nodded and smiled, reaching up and cupping the side of his face with my hand. “Hey, I said it’s fine, so it’s fine.”

Stella was staring out the front window a few steps ahead of us, and the rest of his team couldn't see us from where they were, so while he was in the clear, he leaned his head into my hand and closed his eyes.

“Call me later, alright?” he finally said.

“I will. I promise, Bello,” I replied. “Are you still really that upset over that whole botched mission?”

“A little…”

“Hey, I’m thankful for it. It’s the day I met you.” A soft smile graced my lips, and I caressed his cheek with my thumb.

He opened his eyes once again before pressing a kiss to the inside of my exposed wrist, which prompted me to blush a bit, I won't lie.

“Right. It’s the day I met you…” 

“And you’re just as cute now as you were then.”

He let out a soft huff of amusement before speaking. “I gotta go.” He pulled away with a sigh. “I’ll… see ya at some point.”

“Yeah, see ya!” I waved him away, a smile on my lips as he turned away. 

I hated to see him go but I loved to watch him leave. Damn, I’m glad he wore leather pants.

After I shook away those thoughts I turned back towards the exit and caught up with Stella. “Hey, Stells, you ready to go?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I have been.”

“Then we're off!”

We ventured back onto the streets of Napoli again, walking back the way we came towards the train station.

“How’d you like lunch?” I asked her an innocuous question.

“Good. It was… really, it was amazing. Still, you didn't have to do that for me, though…” she said.

“But I wanted to anyway, so tough,” I teased and booped her on the nose, which actually managed to get a light chuckle out of her.

“Are you and that Mista guy, like… dating?”

I was a bit thrown off by her question, but I was pretty much an open book, so I took it like a champ and responded nonchalantly. “Yeah, sorta. I mean, we’re not ‘nothin’’, we’re definitely ‘somethin’’.”

“Well, do you go out on dates?”

“When we can.”

“Are you guys seeing other people?”

“I’m definitely not! I hope he isn’t… He shouldn't be, anyway…”

“Would you say you love each other?”

“Well, I love him. But you know me, I love love.”

“Has he told you that he loves you?”

“Well, yes…”

“So, you just don’t call each other 'boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’?”

“I guess so!”

“Sounds like you two are dating but too afraid to label it…”

I blinked a few times, unable to find the words I wanted for a few moments, which was super unlike me. “When did you become the ‘relationship expert’?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I’ve seen the real world. I know things…”

I laughed and patted her back. “Alright, then sure, we’re dating… sorta.”

“Then you guys are 'sorta’ cute together.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

 

-- Chapter End --

💖💖💖

 

Notes:

Listen to The Curse of Curves by Cute Is What We Aim For! Also I bet y'all thought there'd be no Bucci gang here well GET PRANKED!!! They def won't be a highlight tho, just so y'all are aware. Don't get attached lmao. I'm already writing too many characters as is and I want to show some love to the minor/side characters lmao

Chapter 29: Crying Cake

Summary:

Maybe not the best use of the chatroom, but a perfect use of cake!

This chapter is dedicated to my friend Corey. Thank you for all of your help on TP so far (especially with this chapter) and being my friend. No matter what happens, you'll have left an impact on this work.

Althaia's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

During my outings, l'd occasionally pass by a bakery that was said to be opening in the spring of this year. It was supposed to be a super fancy one and, honestly, seeing as l used to have the money to afford pretty lavish food, I did miss some of it.

The day that it opened, I decided to indulge myself and try it out. But, of course, I wanted to make it a whole thing…

As I was waiting in line, I began to type in the LSE Chatroom. Marsala was in it too, which was perfect because I wanted her to hear this as well!

[Booting up... LSE Chatroom]

Dr _Donna: GUYS! URGENT! ARE YOU ALL HOME RIGHT NOW?!

Master_Of_Puppets: Yes, we're home.

What's wrong?

No1Pro: Althaia, are you alright?!

Topballer2weedlover: yo, green, you good??

XXPrettyBoyXx: Huh?

Larimar: ALTHAIA WHAT HAPPENED

No2Pes: I'm worried!

69_DaddyMel_69: What is it, Doctor?

Dr_Donna: IS MARSALA THERE TOO???

M: No... But I can be... What's wrong? You're being weird (040) 

Dr_Donna: YOU'LL KNOW IN A MIN! STAY THERE! MAR, GET THERE!

With that, I closed my laptop and stuck it back in my crossbody bag, going back to just waiting patiently in line. They'd be so happy when they saw me…

 

*

 

When I walked into the door, I had several paper bags hanging from my arms and hands, and also the handles of a small one between my teeth. That one was a super-duper surprise for later! 

I looked up at the many concerned faces of my friends staring back at me, though I couldn't understand why. I was as excited as could be!

Prosciutto immediately jumped out of his chair and rushed over to me, concern oozing from his bayside blue eyes. He even took the small bag from out of my mouth and set it off to the side. "Althaia, Althaia, what's wrong? What happened?!"

"Oh, uh..."

Risotto approached me next and started slipping some of the bags off of my arms to help lighten the load. "What did you get yourself into, Belladonna?"

As soon as he could, Prosciutto, being the hands-on guy that he was, began inspecting my body for wounds, I suppose. The whole time, Risotto eyed me critically. Did they really think I was in danger?

Prosciutto held my face in his hands, "Althaia, please, tell us what was so urgent. Did someone hurt you, or try to? Did you run into an enemy?"

Despite the warm, fuzzy feeling that bounced around my chest as he tended to me with such care, I couldn't ignore the tension in the room now. Everyone's eyes were on me, and they were expecting an answer.

"What? I'm not– Guys, I'm fine!" I said, a twinge of regret in my voice.

His expression morphed into one mixed with confusion, disbelief, and growing anger. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!"

"What do you mean you're 'fine'?" Risotto asked, voice short and stern. "You said it was urgent."

"Yeah, it was urgent..." I began before a wide grin grew on my face, and I picked up some of the bags again. "Urgent how much I wanted to surprise you all!"

Various declarations of confusion sprung forth from the group while I set the bags on the coffee table.

"A surprise?" Formaggio asked, raising his brow.

"You mean you freaked out in the chatroom over a... surprise?" Illuso remarked, arms crossed, eyes judgmental.

"Yeah!" I chirped. "This super fancy bakery just opened up and I got a slice of each flavor of cake so we could all try it!"

The room went dead silent for a moment before it erupted into a cacophony of outrage, disbelief, anger, annoyed relief, and even more confusion.

"So, you're telling me that you made all of us panic and wait by our keyboards, thinking something terrible was happening to you, all because you wanted to surprise us with cake?! Cake?! Are you serious?! " Ghiaccio shrieked, even standing up, balling his hands into fists.

I flinched a little and took a step back. "W–well, I–"

"Talk about crying wolf..." Melone huffed, glaring at me.

"Are you outta your mind, Green? We live a dangerous life! You can't go sendin' messages like that and scarin' the shit outta us..." Formaggio sighed heavily and rubbed his temples, closing his eyes.

"I thought you were hurt," Pesci whined.

"This was a stupid thing you did," Illuso commented.

"Belladonna, I don't know why I should have to explain this," Risotto began with a tired expression, "but if you say something like "urgent" and ask where everyone is, it comes off like you're actively in danger. Don't do that again."

I looked around at everyone, soaking in their disappointment or anger. Damn... I didn't mean to scare everyone. I really just wanted to be nice, but I see where I messed up.

"I guess I was just so excited I wasn't thinking straight..." I said. "I'm sorry, guys. I really am. I didn't mean to upset everyone…”

I turned to look behind me, towards Risotto again, but he wasn't there anymore. Where did he go? I didn't hear him go up the stairs or even walk away.

How did a tall guy like that just disappear?

"I can't believe I came all this way for cake," Marsala muttered, sitting between Illuso and Melone, voice sounding more flat than usual. I guess even she was mad. "I'm leaving."

She snapped her fingers, prompting Illuso to reach for her crutches, but I held my hands out in front of me to stop them.

"Wait, wait, wait, you're already here! You might as well stay! Maybe if the cake is good enough, you guys will forgive me..." I wore a nervous smile, fiddling with one of my braids.

Prosciutto, who had yet to react, finally couldn't hold his tongue anymore and grumbled before piping up. "Althaia, you idiota… ”

I looked him in the eyes. I knew he could be pretty harsh when he was mad, so l was a tad nervous. "Huh?"

"Don't 'huh?' me." He got right up in my face; his brows so tense I could tell he was holding back a lot. "Do you have any idea how unprofessional that was? You do know what 'urgent' means, right? l assume so, because you used to work in a hospital setting. So why did you do that?"

"I, uh–"

He drove his finger into my chest, backing me up slowly as he went on. "You had us all worried sick, you know. People die in the mafia. This isn't a game. I can appreciate that you're an energetic, bubbly woman but do not ever pull a stunt like this again."

My eyes went wide, and I was finally backed into a wall, unsure of what to do or what to say. Prosciutto grasped my face in a less loving manner than he did before, leaning down to my level and pressing his forehead to mine. Usually, l'd consider this a positive gesture, but he was extremely frustrated with me. This was a threat, not an act of kindness.

"Do you understand, Althaia?" he asked now, his voice thick with authority. It was an odd combination of calm and irritated.

I nodded a little. I couldn't begin to comprehend, despite the obvious displeasure between us right now, why l had butterflies in my stomach. "Y–yes, Sir... I–I'm sorry. It won't happen again..."

We stayed there like this for a moment, and his expression softened, but only slightly, and his voice got quieter too. "Don't scare me like that…”

Now I felt really bad... I could see now that all of this came from a place of fear rather than genuine anger. I wanted to reach out to touch him, reassure him with a comforting hug, but l couldn't. Despite whatever happened between us a week or so ago, we were still in an awkward phase of whatever kind of relationship this was.

He finally pulled away and straightened his suit up, like he usually did after he was frazzled. I think it was a subconscious thing he did to reorder himself. He marched his way to a chair and sat down, huffing and hanging his head.

I stayed glued to the wall for a moment, processing the whole thing, and Ghiaccio was the first one to break the silence, naturally.

"You better be glad it wasn't me getting in your face like that," he threatened, still working through his own emotions.

“I–I’m really sorry guys… Can I repay you?” I asked.

“What? In cake?” Illuso scoffed, his hand resting on Marsala’s knee, which she promptly shoved away. 

“I spent nearly two million Lira…” I revealed, whining a bit. 

Everyone’s jaws dropped, save for Marsala’s. 

“You what?!” Formaggio shouted. 

“We could have spent that on rent or groceries!” Prosciutto protested.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s my money that I worked hard for! And as far as I’m concerned, you all are my sugar babies.” I took on a sterner voice now. “So, take that extremely literally and eat this very expensive cake I got.”

After a moment of grumbling about the fact that I called them ‘sugar babies’, most of them relented and agreed to humor me, save for Prosciutto. 

He got up and left through the front door, saying, “I need some fresh air.”

“We live in an industrial park. If you want the smog to be any fresher you might as well suck the exhaust right out of a tailpipe,” Melone retorted as the door shut.

I was a little worried, but I’d give him space for now. In the meantime, I’d occupy myself with cake tasting. I stood in front of the coffee table and began to remove small, ornate looking paper crates from each bag. 

“Now, I only got a slice of each flavor, so we’ll have to be sparing so everyone gets a taste,” I instructed.

“Fair enough,” Formaggio replied, shrugging. 

“And I’m going to save some for Risotto and Prosciutto since they’re not here right now.”

“I’ll tell you right now that Prosciutto prides himself on having a 'sophisticated palate’ , which is just fancy-speak for: “I’m a food snob.” So good luck,” Illuso warned. 

I sighed and nodded. I’m afraid I pissed the two most serious men here off big time. I’d have to make up for it somehow. “Give me some time to cut up fair portions.”

“Is there strawberry?” Pesci asked, a gleam of hope in his eyes.

I smiled a little. “Yep! All kinds of fruits!”

“Uh, Althaia,” Marsala chimed in. “Before we begin, I have to tell you that I’m allergic to most fruits… And peanuts… and tree nuts…”

I was a bit surprised. She was usually so closed off. I didn't even realize she still wanted to participate. “Oh… Well, let’s see…” I looked over all the cakes. All of them had some kind of fruit or nuts except for the plain chocolate and the plain vanilla. “Which do you prefer: vanilla or chocolate?”

She seemed to be in thought for a moment before shrugging. “I, uh… I don't need anything. I'm fine. You guys enjoy.”

“Oh, are you sure?” I asked. “There's plenty enough for everyone.”

She nodded. “It’s fine. I ate a late lunch anyway…”

I couldn't read her emotions very well, well, with what I suspected to be a case of blunted affect. So, I took her words at face value for now. “Alright…”

“Marsala, are you alright?” Melone whispered to her.

“I’m fine. I said what I said, and I meant it,” she huffed out in response.

He nodded. “Alright, I believe you.”

“Right then, let me get some plates and silverware!” I announced, standing up and making my way to the kitchen.

As I was collecting what I’d need to divvy up the cakes, I could hear the rest of the group talking amongst themselves.

“God, it’s been four months with this woman and we’re already fearing for her life…” Illuso said.

“Well, hard not to when she goes and does stupid stuff like this!” Ghiaccio growled. 

“She’s still new, though… She’s still learning the rules,” Pesci said with a weak voice.

“Hey, maybe give ‘er a break. She’s already been chewed out and we’ve all done stupid shit like this before,” Formaggio offered.

“Hah! Yeah. Like that time that Ghiaccio got pulled over for speeding and then got so mouthy with the cop he spent the night in jail,” Melone recalled. 

Ghiaccio was clearly holding back as much as he could. “I wasn't even speeding! That pig pulled me over for no reason!”

“You’re the guy that gets into the most trouble by far, out of all of us, Melone,” Formaggio said.

“It’s no surprise to me. This idiota knows no boundaries and pushes when he shouldn’t,” Marsala added.

“But I'm getting better,” Melone cooed.

She huffed before relenting. “He is getting better… But that’s all the praise I’ll give you.”

“Maybe to you, but not to me,” Ghiaccio murmured.

“What?” Melone inquired. “What have I done to upset you, mio caro? Can I make it better?”

“You call me stupid stuff like that! And you…” He grunted. “I don’t even wanna say it out loud!”

“He flirts with you.” Marsala clarified. 

Ghiaccio was now quiet again. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry if you can't stand it, Ghia,” Melone apologized. “I just care for you so much and I don't know how else to express it.”

There was a silence before Ghiaccio replied in a voice that was barely audible. “It's fine… Just don’t do it in public.”

“I’m tired…” Marsala mentioned, yawning a bit.

“You’re so cute when you yawn,” Illuso teased.

“What?” Melone interjected.

“N–nothing…” he mumbled.

“Oh, Melone, quit being so overprotective,” Marsala said. “I’m a grown woman.”

“Fine…” Melone uttered.

I finally came back into the room from the kitchen, carrying a stack of plates on a large tray, accompanied by some silverware. “Alright, who’s hungry?”

I was met with several sounds of confirmation, so I wasted no time digging into each cake and cutting it into equal tasting portions of each one. I made sure to include a plate for both Risotto and Prosciutto, even if they were off throwing a fit or whatever over what I did.

Once that was finished, I passed out the plates along with a fork for each, a sweet smile on my face. I couldn't wait to see their reactions. I simply sat in the chair in front of the coffee table, clasping my hands together.

“Alright, guys, go ahead!” I instructed, a cheerful air to my voice. 

Everyone, save for Marsala, began to slice away at their small slivers of spongy, light cake, all going for different flavors first. Almost immediately, I was rewarded with a symphony of “mm!”s , and an “Oh, shit, this is good!” from Formaggio. 

“It’s like it’s…” Melone thought for a moment. “Oh, di molto! This is fantabulous! It’s so…”

“Light, airy, smooth,” Ghiaccio finished.

“Yet rich and decadent at times,” Illuso added.

“It tastes like spring!” Pesci exclaimed. “Everything is so fresh!”

“Holy shit! This is so good! I’d spend two million Lira on this too!” Formaggio interjected. “I’d get down on my knees for this! God damn…”

Everyone deadpanned and looked at Formaggio as he contentedly ate like he didn't know where his next meal was coming from.

“Weirdo,” Melone said before whistling a bit, but Marsala swatted at him.

“Well… I’m glad you like it,” I said with a weak laugh.

“Like it? We love it!” I had never seen Pesci wear this big of a smile yet.

“Damn, aside from scarin’ the livin’ shit out of us, you treat us right,” Illuso said, his voice muffled by his hand. He had a habit of covering his mouth while he was eating.

Marsala didn't have much to offer in terms of words, and as she had said before, she was tired, so she closed her eyes and laid her head on Illuso’s shoulder. I felt bad… I wanted her to be able to experience this with us too.

The guys went about testing all the cakes, chatting happily amongst themselves and discussing the flavors. Formaggio continued to say some very… unhinged things, which only riled Melone up, and the two began going back and forth, saying things that I… don't even want to repeat. They certainly shouldn't be said about cake of all things. Men are strange…

Eventually, shrouded by the chatter, an interaction between Illuso and Marsala began. Once he got too hyper, Marsala had kicked Melone off of their couch and he sat next to Formaggio on the floor, so the two of them were alone there. She was still laying her head on his shoulder, looking bored out of her mind, though I couldn't tell if that was her resting expression or not.

“Mar,” Illuso whispered, side-glancing at her.

“Hm?”

“You look bored, darling.”

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “‘Call you ‘darling’, get hit with a crutch’.”

“You better be glad they’re not near me right now…”

“Fine, be as prickly as you want, but you still look bored.”

“You can tell the difference between my resting face and my bored expression??”

He smiled a bit and nodded “Of course… I've spent nearly every day with you for the past four months… I’ve been paying attention. I’m trying to get to know you.”

Despite her lack of outward emotion, there was a sparkle in her wine-red eyes. “You’re annoying when you talk like this…”

He wore a shit-eating grin and snickered a bit. “Just means I’m doing something right.”

She was silent for a moment before sighing. “Shut up… Look, I’m spending the whole afternoon with you. Are you still going to bother me tomorrow?”

“Of course. What do I look like?”

“A pest.”

“Your pest.”

“You're not ‘mine’. If you were, I’d chain you up outside.”

“You're so mean to me, you know that? And all I do is give and give,” he teased.

“I never asked for that. In fact, I would have been fine if you went on hating me.”

He made a bit of a face at her, though I could tell he wasn't actually upset. “You wound me, woman. You seem just fine eating the food I bring you or using my help around your house.”

“It's not my fault you’re freakishly tall and can reach things I can't… And that you spend your money foolishly.” I swear I thought I heard the faintest hint of teasing in her voice.

“Jealous? You should be.” He wore a smug expression.

“You’re an insufferably arrogant man, Illuso.”

He chuckled softly before stabbing at some of the cake on his plate. “Do you want some of this?”

“Of what? The cake? I can’t. The cross contamination–”

“It wasn’t… The chocolate and vanilla weren't touching the other flavors at all.” Illuso looked over at me now and I smiled a little. 

I knew he had a giant crush on her and that he’d probably try to share with her eventually. World’s best ‘wing-person’, reporting for duty! Only cost me nearly 2 million…

“Oh, really?” Marsala asked, sitting up.

“Yeah, but my fork has…” he said with a glum tone.

I carefully nudged another one towards them, trying to be discreet.

He looked at me again before switching forks and turning to face Marsala. He then scooped up a small bit of vanilla cake and held it up to her, teasing her. “Open wide.”

“Are you trying to feed it to me?” she asked in a voice more annoyed sounding that usual.

“That I am. Come on. Humor me.”

She held up her middle finger. “Humor this.”

I chuckled quietly but tried to hide it. Marsala was pretty funny when you gave her the chance, actually.

“Mar,” Illuso began, “I just think it’d be cute.”

“No, what's cute is how much you think I care what you think.” She reached for the fork. “Let me do it.”

“No, let me do it.”

“Let me.”

They wrestled with the fork for a moment before she grumbled and relented, letting him win. “Yeah! That’s more like it. Now, come on.”

She rolled her eyes before opening her mouth and letting him feed the cake to her. Both of them were blushing a bit and it was obvious they liked each other. I could already imagine them doing this same thing on their wedding day… Ah, I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Wait… This is really good,” Marsala mumbled as she chewed. “Amazing, actually…”

“Yeah? Do you think if I ever brought this by your place, you’d still be upset that I showed up?”

She shook her head. “No, no, I’d let you come right in. You could stay as long as you want.”

He carefully fed her a piece of the chocolate now, and while her eyes were closed as she raved about how good it was in a dampened tone, Illuso mouthed, “thank you” to me, and I nodded, winking.

Seems like I’ve been forgiven on this front…

 

*

 

I stood outside Risotto’s office door, because I assumed he had gone that way since he disappeared from the room so quickly. I didn't bother knocking, I didn't do that anymore. He was used to me dropping by without notice by now. I had a plate of cake samples in my hand as I opened the door, poking my head in.

“Hey,” I greeted a dark room with a tense, yet cheerful voice. “You in here, big guy?”

“Don't call me that,” a deep voice rumbled. Yep, he was in here. 

I sighed and walked in, shutting the door behind me. “Why do you choose to sit in the dark, like some kind of vampire?”

“I like being in the dark. And I see the sun enough.”

“Yeah? When?” I walked behind his desk and pulled open the blackout curtain on the window.

He flinched and hissed a bit, squinting his dark eyes. He had been sitting at his desk this whole time. “A warning would be appreciated next time.”

“C’mon, live a little. Enjoy the sunshine, it’s good for you.”

“Why are you bothering me now?”

“I’ve brought you cake.” I smiled and placed the plate down in front of him.

“The cake that you set all of us on high alert for…” He picked up a fork and began stabbing at it.

“Yeah, I’m…” I sighed and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “I’m sorry, Risotto. Really, I am. I don't know what I was thinking… Or maybe I wasn't at all. I was just so excited to see the looks on your faces that I got too ahead of myself.”

He stared at me for a long moment, expression revealing nothing, but he eventually nodded. “I wasn’t very happy with you for a moment, but… I understand. You have a compulsion to outperform yourself every time you do something, probably from an upbringing that forced you to exceed everyone’s expectations all of the time. I assume your parents depended on you for a lot, especially for income eventually. So, you had to do the best you could every time and make everyone happy because everything was riding on you. If you didn’t manage to be the best, you probably couldn't live with yourself. You were once a pride of Italia and now you’re stuck here in a house with people you’re still trying to win over. It’s no wonder you’re blowing your money to get on our good sides and getting too excited about outside approval because that's all you’ve learned to live off of, right?”

My muscles locked in place, and I stared him in the eyes, unable to breathe. What did he just…? Did he just psychoanalyze me?

“Belladonna.” He snapped his finger to get my attention.

I blinked a few times and shook my head, trying to even pretend to have an answer for him. “W-what…? Don’t…”

He grinned a bit and leaned back. “Sounds about right.”

“I’m not a little science experiment! Stop studying me!” I barked. “Come on… I don't wanna think about that stuff right now.”

“So, I’m right?”

“Of course, you are! But… not the best time to bring it up.”

He sighed and shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of time to think. The more of it I've spent with you, the more interesting you’ve become. And I realize now that you aren't as manipulative as I thought you were when we first met. You were right. You just know how to get what you want.”

I turned my head like a curious dog. “Oh, really? I didn’t think I was in the first place, but you’re the expert.”

“I apologize. I was upset with the change… I didn’t want you here.” He looked almost… ashamed?  He hadn't even eaten his cake yet. “I have my… own problems. My anger has simmered down as I've grown older, but when I feel that way, I still leave the room. I've found it’s better for me and all the people around me. I would have saved my family a lot of trouble if I had done that more as a teenager…”

My expression softened into something understanding and I nodded. “I… I understand. I know this job is tough, I’ve seen what you put yourself through just to make sure the others have nothing to worry about.”

“It's fine… I can handle it. I know what I’ve gotten myself into.”

“Did you, though? You were only eighteen when you entered this…” I gestured around. “...fucked up profession. You never signed up for this.”

He absentmindedly shoved the cake around the plate, leaning his head on his hand. “But I've adjusted. I’ve wasted enough time wallowing in my misfortune. Then I grew up just like I told you before. I learned about the human brain so I could try to understand myself. I can manage.”

I stood up and came to his side. “But you still don't take care of your body… You don't sleep, you forget to eat or drink water, you keep yourself hidden in your office all day… I–I won't lie, I worry for you…” I patted his back, even squeezing his shoulder a bit in a comforting gesture. 

“Well, I’m an expert of the mind, you're an expert of the body. Depend on me for the former and I’ll depend on you for the latter.” He offered me only a glance, but I could see a glint of something almost playful in his eyes.

I chuckled and nodded. “You can depend on me, I promise.”

He set his fork down and turned his swivel chair to face me, looking up at me now. “I am going to say something to you, and if you make a big deal out of it, or tell anyone I said this, I will never be nice to you ever again.”

A beaming grin grew on my face, and I reached down to hold his hands. “Okay, okay, I can handle it. Shoot.”

He looked away and wrestled with himself for a moment, biting at the inside of his lip before speaking in a strained voice. “I think… I’ve been waiting to meet someone like you for a… very long time.”

Something inside of my chest came to life upon hearing his words… I really was a sucker for outside validation…

“You bring an energy to the team that we haven’t had before, and I think you’ve been good for us… I’m sorry for what happened in your life before this, Amalthea, but I like having you around.”

He… he liked me?! He didn’t think I was annoying all the time?! I couldn't believe it… I squeezed his hands really tight, trying to control my reaction, and he made a face at me.

“What are you doing?”

“Risotto…”

“No, no, don’t. Be normal about this.”

“Risotto…” my voice was laced with suffocated emotion and strain.

“No, Amalthea, stop–”

I stooped down to his level and wrapped my arms around his torso, squealing excitedly, nonsensical, hysterical drivel pouring out. He groaned and tried to struggle free, stiff in my arms, fighting against me.

“Stop! You weren't supposed to make a big deal out of this! Argh–! ” He gritted his teeth when I squeezed him tighter.

“You’re so sweet!” I cooed. “Aw, you like me! You wanna be best friends??”

“No! I’m not! And I don't like you! We’re not friends!” He finally stood up, shaking me off now.

“Risotto! Come on! You’re such a sweet guy!” I teased, ready to latch onto him again. I was like an overexcited puppy, and he was already through with me. “All those dark clothes and piercings can't hide it from me!”

“God! Why do I ever tell you anything?!”

“One day I’m gonna ask if we’re best friends, and one day, you’re gonna say yes!”

“Likely story… Why do you need my approval so badly?”

“You’re the therapist. You tell me.”

He began to speak but I cut him off.

“Actually, don't,” I said. “Not right now. I'm in a good mood.”

He sighed. “Fair enough.”

“Alright, eat the cake I brought you, Doll. ”

He pointed at the door. “You know the rules. Get out.”

“Fine,” I joked in a singsong voice, heading towards the door. “God, you’re so easy to tease.”

“I should go back to being mean to you. You’re too happy.”

I laughed and opened the door. “Yeah, okay, tough guy.” I stepped out and shut it behind me.

I stood by the closed door long enough to hear him take a deep breath, sit back down, and scrape his fork against the plate. 

There was a silence before I heard him say in a low, muffled voice, “Oh, dammit… Oh, this is good…”

I silently pumped my fist. Hell yeah! One more person to soothe with the power of expensive cake…

 

*

 

With the last plate of cake in my hands, I stepped outside our front door and onto the small path that led to our weird city-street connected driveway. This house was in a weird place… Where the hell did they get it from? Anyway…

There sat the catalogue-ready blond man that I, at this point in time, was confused as to what I was to him. The front of this house was supposed to have a tall, brick flower planter attached, but I guess the city had filled it with cement a long time ago, so now we just used it as a seat. When he realized I was standing there, Prosciutto glanced at me before looking back out into the city again, one of his knees held to his chest while his other leg hung freely, his shoe nearly touching the ground.

“What do you want?” he muttered.

I approached carefully and offered him the plate. “Brought you something.”

He eyed the plate for a second before taking it from me.

“Can I sit here?” I asked.

He nodded, scooting over a bit. I sat down next to him in silence, letting my presence settle. I had learned that he was actually a pretty sensitive guy. He liked quiet conversations, warm coffee, and reading the newspaper… He was so… Well, let’s just say whoever was lucky enough to marry him would be set for life…

“Did I scare you?” he finally spoke up, his voice calm but borderline regretful.

“What?” I raised one of my short brows and looked at him.

“When I lectured you earlier… Did I scare you?”

I paused. Why would he even bother asking me this? “Of course, not… I was maybe a little unsure, but…”

“I don't really like that I do that.” He rested his chin on his knee, his eyes cast low. 

I took the plate from him for the time being and set it beside me, sitting closer to him. “Pro, come on…”

“No, really. I… I grew up in a household where my parents were pretty uninvolved, so it was my job to take care of everything– the house, my siblings, our dog, everything. So, I learned to be kind of tough on people, get things done, have control, and have people going in the right direction… So now when someone does something out of line or acts like an idiot, I… I can't sleep at night if I don’t fix it immediately. I need to set things right.”

What was it today? These two hardasses were opening up to me? Damn… I thought for a long while before responding in a soft, apologetic voice.

“I’m sorry, Prosciutto… It’s not fair that you had to sacrifice your childhood for responsibilities that weren't yours…” I rested my hand on his and without much hesitation, he held mine back. “I understand, in a way… My parents, y'know, they really depended on me for a lot eventually… I never got to have the experiences people my age should have had…”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but it's…” I shook my head. “I can't really talk about it. Not yet.”

“That’s okay.”

“Prosciutto,” I began, my free hand on his knee, “I appreciate the way you are. I do… You’re always there to make sure everything is in order. And you're part of the glue that keeps this team and this household together. You help me cook and clean, you teach me things that other people wouldn't think to, you’re part of the reason why Risotto probably isn't dead yet from dehydration…”

He chuckled wearily and so did I. “I’m… glad you aren't mad at me.”

“I–... I’m not. Uh, but… Are you mad at me?”

He shook his head. “No, Althaia, I’m not. I mean, maybe I was before, but… I was more so upset because of how scared I got…”

“What?”

“You've only been here for four months, and I care about you more than I should… When you sent that first message, I felt nauseous. It’s unbecoming of a mafioso. We’re a team, but when it comes down to it, it's every man for himself… Or woman. We're only paid contractors for Passione. We’re not a family, even if we act like it. We have to, though, because we're human and need to feel like we belong to someone… This job would be so much easier if we didn't feel human…”

My heart clenched and I felt a pout settle on my face after hearing his lamentations. This was one of the saddest things I had ever heard… I wrapped my arms around his and put my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Prosciutto… I–”

“You should be sorry…”

“What?”

“You make me feel weak… I don't feel like a mafioso around you. I feel like a regular person that just wants to sit down with these people that I consider family, eat a warm meal, read the paper… Have an actual purpose outside of death. You make it easier to pretend that I could have had a normal life had I made better decisions.”

I sat up and tried to catch his eye, feeling an emotion I honestly couldn't describe. I didn't get this…

I think this job and the intense circumstances it forced you into, the rapid acceptance that your death could come at any moment… It makes you live everyday like it's your last, in a way. You feel emotions on high because, without warning, you could stop feeling forever. So, I understood him…

“It’s okay to be weak… At least you know you’re alive,” I said. “And you do have a purpose. Your purpose is to live every day as freely as you can even if we’re stuck in Passione …” I wore a confident grin and spoke in an inspired voice, “Your purpose is to be a teacher– to me, to Pesci, to anyone who needs it. You’re good at that. You’re good at taking care of people, even if you’re so serious ninety-nine percent of the time…”

He turned his head to meet my gaze now, his blue eyes sparkling like the sun over the ocean during high noon. “I don’t know what to do with you… I’ve told you things I haven't told much of anyone. We've almost kissed… One day, I’m going to make a stupid decision because of you. I can see it now: we’re on a mission and I make a poor choice just to protect you. What are we? What are we supposed to do?”

I looked away, feeling a similar warmth in my chest from earlier. I was never good at this kind of thing. I was affectionate, but I wasn't good at relationships or labels. I had hardly any experience with them, and I had a hard time naming what I wanted when it came to romance… Honestly, I didn't even want romance at all! I just wanted love, and patience… I wanted someone to be close to. 

“I… I don’t know…” I admitted in a hesitant voice.

“That makes two of us, then.”

“Prosciutto, I know we've almost kissed, and I know I’m really affectionate but… I don't know what I want from you… from anyone, really. I just want to be comfortable with someone. I want a good friend… I want someone who lets me be affectionate. And I don’t mean to lead anyone on…”

He sighed and rested the back of his head against the wall, staring off into the distance. “I kind of get that… It sounds nice. Simple.”

I tried to read his expression, but I couldn't. He could be so closed off when he wanted to be. “Does it hurt your feelings that I don't have a direct answer?”

“No, no, of course not… I don't have one either. I was just…”

“Just what?”

He tapped his fingertips on his knee before shrugging. “No sé… El amor es difícil … I just like being around you. I liked how it felt when you kissed my neck. I like that you see me as a man despite what you know.”

I blinked a few times. What was he speaking? Was that Spanish? “Because you are a man…” I leaned in and wore a sly expression, playfully running my fingertips across his jaw. “You’re one of the most handsome, debonair men I’ve ever seen.”

His fair cheeks became rosy, just like they did all those nights before. “You… don't have to patronize me.”

I scoffed a bit. “I’m not! I mean it. Really, I do… I like you just the way you are. You’re a good friend and you don't hurt to look at.” I chuckled softly.

He turned his head to look at me now, and I could tell he was trying to keep himself from smiling like always. “I could say the same about you. Still, though… If I let who you are make me soft, I might lose my edge. It could affect my job.”

I shrugged. “Eh, I bother Risotto all the time with my ‘incessant cheerfulness’, and he’s just as mean as ever.”

He snickered a bit and sighed. “Fine… I guess you’re right.”

“Besides, you didn't lose your edge when you reprimanded me back there. You’re still the same sharp, commanding guy you were when we met.”

He was silent for a moment before relenting. “I guess you’re right…”

“So, what if you like being held and kissed sometimes? We all do. Well… most of us do. Humans crave connection. It’s normal.”

“Hm…” He seemed to be collecting his thoughts, and I had a feeling I knew what it was about. “Then… I think I know what I want from you.”

“And what’s that?”

“Sometimes, when the energy is low, or if we’re alone like this, I just want you… near me. We can even be silent. I just want to be close to you.”

A smile slowly spread on my face, and I nodded. “I can do that! That sounds great!”

“And…” he began again, this time seeming more embarrassed, “...if we could…” He made a bit of a face before shaking his head. “No, never mind.”

“Hey, come on, don't leave me hanging! What is it?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry…”

I sighed, letting it go for now and picking up the plate of cake beside me. “Fine.”

He glanced at it. “So that’s the cake that started this whole mess, huh? Is it worth it?”

“I dunno.” I scooped a small piece up on my fork. “I haven't tried it yet. But the others say it’s really good.”

He hummed in a bit of an uptight manner. “Well, I have a sophisticated palette, so I doubt it’ll impress me.”

“We’ll see,” I said before taking a bite.

As soon as the smooth, refreshing cake hit my tongue, my eyes widened, and I felt transported to a different universe… This was… better than good. It was everything. It tasted like a heavenly spring day in a field of wildflowers, with nothing but a good book and a picnic spread. It was…

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “This is so good I could kiss someone!”

“What?” Prosciutto cocked a brow at my reaction.

“This makes me realize what I've been missing in life…”

“Are you serious? ” His brows dropped and he squinted at me. 

“I am!”

“Let me taste it…”

I sliced into the cake again and retrieved a small piece on my fork, holding it up for him to eat off of, which he did. When he did, he had a similar reaction as me, and I could see him transcending past this realm just by looking at his face. He leaned his head back and let out an exasperated breath. 

“I… see what you mean now… I–”

We looked each other in the eyes for a moment and I set the plate down beside me. No words were exchanged between us but enough was said in the air between us.

“I could kiss someone too,” he mumbled.

“Looks like you’re the only person in front of me,” I teased in a low voice.

We began to lean in towards each other, our eyes closing and our hands finding their way onto each other’s faces, but just before our lips could meet, we heard the door opening, our eyes about popped out of our skulls. I stood up and took his hand, and we rushed to the side of the house, pressing our backs against the stone wall.

“Who the hell left their cake right here?” Illuso asked.

“Who cares?” Marsala replied. I could hear her crutches against the pavement.

I looked over at Prosciutto and wore a confused expression, mouthing, “What do we do?”

He gestured in defeat and mouthed back, “I don't know.”

We watched Illuso walk Marsala to her car, parked on the street a few meters away from us.

“You didn't have to walk me to my car,” Marsala stated. “I can do that myself.”

“I know, I know you can,” Illuso said. “But it’s getting late and we’re not in the best of areas… I’m not just going to leave you alone. Because if something did happen, I'd feel terrible.”

“Why?”

“I… I care about you. You’re my friend.”

She was silent for a moment before finally, finally admitting it. “Fine… You’re my friend too.”

“R–really…? You’re coming right out and saying it?” I had never heard him sound so soft before. It was nice.

“Why not? I guess you’ve earned it by now…”

“Hah! Admit it! You like having me around!”

“Don't push your luck with me.”

“Are you still obsessed with Prosciutto or something?” His tone dropped into something akin to annoyance. 

I glanced at Prosciutto, who was still standing beside me, and he was watching with a concerned expression. He glanced at me and pointed to his chest, as if to ask, “Me?” And I just shrugged. 

“A bit, yes,” she answered, avoiding eye contact with him. “You don’t understand. That was all I had for the longest time. Just the fantasy of someone who I thought was perfect, with his dreamy eyes and his pretty lashes… His gorgeous hair. His style, his taste, his proficiency at his job…”

I wore a sly grin and nudged Prosciutto, but he rolled his eyes and swatted at me, his cheeks red once more.

“Well, I like to think I have dreamy eyes and gorgeous hair too…” Illuso grumbled. “And I’m also good at my job!”

“Let me finish, Illuso,” Marsala said behind clenched teeth. “What I was trying to say is that I’m aware it’s just a fantasy… It’s still intimidating to talk to him, and honestly, I don't expect anything to ever come from it. I know, like… everything my computer knows about him, but I don't know him, do you understand?”

It took him a moment to react, but he eventually nodded. “Do you think you know me?”

She rolled her eyes. “You only drop by everyday, tell me literally everything about yourself, and sleep on my couch sometimes. I’d say I know you pretty well.”

He grinned like a man that had just won the lottery, about to speak, but he soon caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window of Marsala’s car and got distracted by it.

Marsala waited for a moment before snapping her fingers. “God. Right in the middle of a conversation?”

“Sorry… I’m just so damn irresistible.”

“You’re corny is what you are. And vain.”

“Ah, darling, but you’re irresistible as well… Trust me when I say that if I looked like you, I’d be hardly able to focus on anything but my own reflection.”

“...That is, oddly, one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me…”

The wholesome moment was cut short when one of her crutches smacked him in the shin and he cried out, leaning against the car. “I do nothing but love you…” he whimpered. “And you’ve already tarnished my once flawless skin! My legs are bruised now.”

“Then stop breaking the rule.”

He slowly recovered before speaking again. “One day, I’ll call you that, and you won't hit me for it. One day I’ll call you that when we’re standing at the altar.”

Her eyes widened a bit before she protested. “Pfft. Get real! If you think I’ll ever marry you, you’re out of your mind. Secondly, I’m not…” She looked down. “I’m not someone you marry… It’s just going to be me and my computers for the rest of my life.”

He took his hands in hers, sighing. “Marsala, if there's one thing I know for sure, it’s that one day, even though it probably won’t be me, someone is going to make you very happy, and they’ll make you understand that you are worth spending their life with. Because you are…”

She looked up at him, without any hint of emotion, her red lips not parting for a single word.

“I probably sound crazy, right? Talking about something like that…” he said with an awkward chuckle.

Without warning, she leaned forward and pressed her head against his chest, her eyes closed. She looked… at peace. Illuso seemed unsure of what to do with himself for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her, making sure to be gentle.

“It’s not crazy, it’s… It’s nice… No one’s ever said anything like that to me before,” she admitted, her usual disinterested tone softening. 

“Then hopefully this is the first of many times you’ll hear it.” He rubbed a small circle on her back.

They stood there hugging for a little while and Prosciutto and I looked at each other, silently raving over the fact that they were totally into each other.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other and resumed a normal conversation.

“I wanted to ask you what I should bring when I come over tomorrow,” Illuso said.

“For lunch?” Marsala asked.

“Yeah.”

“Just the usual… And you can stay over tomorrow if you want. You’ll probably be tired from all the work I’ll have you do.”

“Sounds good… I’ll see you then.”

He helped her into her car after that and watched her drive away for a second. Prosciutto and I were left with calm smiles on our faces. Those quickly dropped, though, when Illuso turned around and finally saw us. His red eyes widened, and his jaw dropped open before he shouted at us.

“What the hell are you two doing watching people like creeps?! God!”

“We were out here first!” I responded.

“Fucking weirdos…” He huffed and headed back towards the house. “Don't tell anyone what you saw!”

Prosciutto and I laughed at him as we heard the front door slam closed again.

Maybe some more cake would fix this too…

*

In all of the commotion, I had forgotten about the small bag from earlier, and I only remembered its purpose again after spotting it on the entryway table. It was late… I’m not sure if he was still awake. But I could always try. I rarely got discouraged by much of anything.

I picked up the bag by its handles and walked up the rickety old steps, trying to be as quiet as possible. When I reached the first door on the left side of the hallway, I carefully opened it. It was Prosciutto and Pesci’s shared room. It didn’t take long for me to see a familiar head of blond hair, made paler by the faint moonlight seeping in through the cracks in the blinds, turn to look at me. The low light made his curious eyes look darker. Prosciutto was sitting against the headboard of his bed, hair down and wavy, reaching his shoulders, wearing a yellow hoodie. There was a book in his lap.

“Doctor?” he whispered.

I gestured for him to come closer. “C’mere…”

He studied me for a moment before setting his book down and getting out of bed. I liked how he looked when he was relaxed, he looked so… normal. Once he got out into the hall with me and shut his room door behind him, he finally addressed the situation.

“It’s so late. ¿Necesitas ayuda?” he asked.

I raised my brow curiously. “What is that? You spoke that language earlier. It’s a romance language. Is it–?”

“Spanish, yes. Soy italiano y español. I was born and raised in España .”

“Woah!” I exclaimed in a hushed tone. “I didn’t know that! That’s cool!”

He shrugged. “I guess. What is it that you want?”

I presented the bag to him, a coy smile on my face. “Go ahead.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking me over before reaching inside the bag to retrieve whatever it was that I had gotten him. When his hand grasped it and lifted it out, he held a small box. He studied it before his expression transformed from confusion to appreciative relief.

“My cologne… I was almost out. How did you–?”

“I remembered you saying that you needed to get more, and while I didn’t know the name, I knew the smell,” I explained. “So, I stopped by a fragrance shop and described it to the clerk, sniffed a bunch of samples, and eventually, I knew I had found it! I would’ve asked you for the name, but that would’ve ruined the surprise.”

He put the cologne back in the bag before setting it aside and pulling me into a hug. His hoodie was so soft, and he smelled so clean and inviting. I giggled softly and threw my arms over his shoulders, nuzzling against his neck.

“Thank you, Althaia, really… Hardly anyone has been as kind to me as you have. You spoil me, in material, affection, and words… I think that’s why I’m afraid I’ve become so weak around you,” he revealed.

“I think all of you have gone too long in your lives without being spoiled a little, and it’s a real shame. If I have the means, I’ll do it. Everyone deserves to know they’re loved,” I retorted. “And don’t worry so much about weakness. The closer you get with someone, the fiercer you’ll become at the idea of protecting them. That’s a strength, not a weakness. Love gives you something to fight for, a purpose.”

He pulled away from me in order to look into my eyes and I had never seen the man look so soft and affectionate. It was hard for me to believe, at this moment, that he was a hardened mafioso with who-knows-how-many kills under his belt. No, right now, he was just Prosciutto– a book loving, well-groomed transessuale Spanish-Italian with expensive taste and the heart of a teacher, of a big brother, of a friend.

“We’ve needed someone like you here for a long time…” he said.

Risotto’s earlier words echoed in my mind, and I felt my heart flutter a bit. These people really were fond of me… I had found a home, I think. A new family… 

“You think so?” I teased.

“Yes, I do… Even if your youthful exuberance is exhausting at times.”

I chuckled quietly and slid my arms around his waist. “This hoodie is really soft…”

“Most likely because it's worn. I’ve had it since high school.” His arms were draped over my shoulders.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah! It seems really comfy.”

I was not expecting him to next remove the hoodie, but he did, revealing the white tank top he was wearing underneath. For a moment, I was too distracted by his toned arms and the dark marks under his chest that I could faintly see through the light material. Those must be chest reconstruction scars… I didn’t get to see them a lot while in med school or even as a practicing doctor, but I do see them every time I remove my shirt. Long story…

“Here,” he said once I was paying attention again. He held the hoodie out towards me. “You can have it.

“What? But… You just said it yourself; you’ve had it since high school! Why would you give it to me?”

“Because I want to. Problem?” His expression was stern now. He expected me to take it.

I blushed a bit and shook my head. I always got these sorts of chills when he got authoritative. “N–no, Sir. Sorry…” I took the hoodie from him and held it to my chest. “Thanks…”

He gestured dismissively. “My pleasure. Besides, I know you don’t have a lot of clothes here. When it starts to get colder, that will keep you warm.”

I had noticed, during my time around him, that not only was he looking out for everyone all of the time, even if he was a hardass, but he was always thinking ahead about things no one else did, like seasons. I guess it was just all that time he spent as a parent…

I nodded and smiled, hugging him gently again. “Y’know, you shouldn’t read in the dark. It causes eye strain.”

He sighed. “I’ve already figured I’ll end up with shitty eyes when I get old anyway, just like my grandparents. The perks of having blue eyes,” he remarked sarcastically.

“Aw, I like ‘em. I think your eyes are really pretty.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, ‘course…” I looked up to see him looking down at me, and I reached up to hold his face. As I pulled it closer to my height, I pressed my lips to his forehead.

He let out a husky, breathy laugh before planting a gentle kiss on my cheek. I felt a small spark shoot up my spine, and I think that I probably wore an expression akin to a smitten cartoon character.

“Goodnight, Doctor… I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, picking up the bag again.

“Sleep well, hun…” I replied in a soft voice, waving him away.

He retreated back into his room, and now that I was alone and every loose end was tied up, I also retired to my bedroom. I sat down on my bed and decided to humor myself, putting the oversized hoodie on. It was a heavy, cushiony material, and it was warm. Not only that, but it smelled like him… It was like someone had placed the definition of comfort on me. I flipped the hood up and wrapped my arms around myself, laying down and curling up into a sleepy, contented, soothing, hazy ball of calm. It felt so intimate…

Today was pretty awesome. I should buy cake more often…

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

 

Notes:

This chapter was inspired by a FANTASTIC, MOUTH WATERING, HEAVEN TRANSCENDING, GORGEOUS slice of cake from a local boutique bakery that, like Formaggio in this chapter, I DID say strange things about. If you want to see me spiral into a cake-fueled craze, visit my Tumblr lmao. And YES. I'd get down on my KNEES for this cake. I love you, blueberry and lemon cloud cake <3

Chapter 30: Want You Bad

Summary:

Alex navigates life as a 'tribute collector' and relives the painful past with her husband...

Alex's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

I hadn't seen my husband in weeks. That meant that, for weeks, I was secretly a 'tribute collector’ for Aracini without 'im knowin’ the mess I'd gotten myself into. I didn’t want 'im to ever find out, but what could I do? Eventually, somethin’ would slip 'nd he would. I wonder what he’d do when he found out…

Today, I was 'ta meet Aracini 'nd Bistecca at the house they'd held me hostage in a few weeks prior. They said they wanted me 'ta meet some other blokes on their team. Well… Bistecca didn't say anything. She never talked. It was always Aracini doin’ the talkin’. 

I decided 'ta bring my bat with me, like always, ‘cause I wasn't ‘bouta be caught dead in some hairy situation again without it. This bat was my second-in-command.

These Passione goons thought I worked for 'em, but they were wrong. I worked for myself 'nd I was just put in a bad spot. But it wouldn't stay like that forever. I kept tellin’ myself that. This wasn’t the first shitty situation I’d been put in, 'nd I was sure it wouldn’t be the last either.

I stood outside the door 'ta that same house from before, just a bus ride away from my home in Fiesole. I was already wearin’ a shitty scowl. I didn't wanna be here, but I knocked on the door anyway. After a few seconds, Bistecca answered the door for me, the same kinda intense stare in her eyes as usual. I nodded to her as I stepped past her 'nd into the house, glancin’ 'round with disinterest.

“Ah, Alex! How nice to see you,” Aracini greeted me in her scratchy voice, openin’ her arms 'ta me. “Welcome back to our home.”

“I’m not a hugger,” I stated, standin’ still.

“Hm, you’re no fun,” she teased, her long orange hair swayin’ as she walked away from me. She turned 'ta look at the kitchen 'nd called out 'ta whoever was in there. “Alright, get in here, you all! The new girl's here.”

Four curious blokes walked out from the kitchen, all of various heights, hair colors, 'nd styles. The taller guy was carrying a big shovel for some fuckin’ reason 'nd 'is right eye was waterin’. The next guy had weird-shaped green hair 'nd looked like an idiot. There was a ginger with some weird ass clothes that looked way too smug. 'Nd last was a girl with a crazed grin on her face 'nd shaggy blue hair.

The hell was I getting into…?

“So, you’re Alex, huh?” The first one raised 'is shovel to point at me. “Aracini wouldn't shut up about you.”

I raised a brow. “What? Why?” I looked at her.

She shrugged. “Let’s just say I was intrigued…”

“Damn, she's got a ring on her finger,” the green-haired one remarked glumly. 

“Shut up, dumbass,” the ginger huffed. “No wonder you don’t get any dates.”

“Ooo! A ring? Can I see?” The girl rushed toward me with swift, nimble steps. Her movements were almost unnatural. She held my left hand 'nd her face was so close to it that I could feel her breath on my knuckles. “So pretty! Who's the lucky guy?”

I pulled my hand away, a twinge 'a disgust restin’ on my features. “Who the hell're you?”

“Hey, your voice sounds weird,” the green-haired one said. “What the hell is that accent?”

The shovel-wielder jabbed the handle of 'is weapon into that guy’s gut. “Can you shut your damn mouth and ask questions like a normal person?”

“I’m British,” I answered, glarin' at the group.

“The Hell is a British lady doing in Italia?” the ginger asked with an arrogant voice. 

“My father was Italian. My mother was Indian 'nd British. I’ve lived here since high school…”

“Ooo! New Alex lore!” Aracini raved, grinnin'.

I rolled my eyes 'fore pointin’ at the four new faces in fronta me. “Names. Now.”

“Where do you get off on telling us what to do, new girl?” The shovel guy took a step towards me, wipin' 'is leaky eye with a handkerchief.

“Just answer her question!” Aracini demanded.

He made a bit of a face before dramatically draggin' 'is shovel over to the couch 'nd sittin' down, still holdin' the cloth to 'is eye. “I’m Luca,” he grumbled.

“Hey, babe, you can call me Zucchero.” This guy waggled 'is eyebrows at me 'nd wore a grin that made me wanna punch 'im in the face.

I responded with a “tch”, 'nd the ginger guy shoved him away. 

“I’m Sale. You’ll get used to this. Unfortunately,” he said, hardly lookin' at me as he passed.

The girl now introduced herself, a wild, sharp-toothed smile on her face. “And I’m Cedro! Welcome to the famiglia! You smell good…”

My brows knitted together 'nd I nodded. “Uh huh…” I glanced up at Aracini before speakin’ next. “I'm not Passione." 

The room was silent for a moment 'fore Luca stood up and shouted at me. “The hell are you doing here if you’re not Passione? Aracini, have you lost it?! You’re just dragging in anyone off the street now?”

Bistecca tensed up and took a step forwards towards 'im, but Aracini held her hand up, stoppin’ her. “Relax. I’m the leader of this team, I’ve got it handled.”

“Look, I don't wanna be here either but this nutjob said she’d kill me if I didn't start collectin’ for her!” I gestured outwardly from my chest. I needed someone sane 'ta hear me 'nd get me outta this mess.

“We've discussed this already! You were collecting for yourself on Passione territory! That was an offense to the organization!” Aracini growled, still keepin’ a hand up 'ta stop Bistecca.

Sale rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. Another trashy street punk…”

I didn't wanna be here at all. I looked over at Luca, meetin’ his eyes with my pleadin’ ones. I was silently beggin’ that he'd talk some sense into her, have me let go, but…

“Oh, you’re lucky she didn't kill you… In our line of business, that's like spitting in our faces. Every rat on the street knows to pay their dues to us. The fact that you didn't just goes to show that you’re not a professional,” he lectured.

Dammit! No! My last hope! Fuck! This was no good… I was startin’ 'ta feel hopeless…

“Yeah, and she spit in my face too! Literally!” Aracini guffawed.

“You did what?!” Zucchero shouted.

“She 'nd I were scrappin’, I was stuck against a wall! The hell else was I ‘sposed to do?!” I growled a bit under my breath afterwards.

“You’re a feisty one, huh?” Cedro blinked her big, freaky eyes at me. This one was probably more of a nutter than Aracini.

“Oh, she is!” Aracini boasted. “She put up a hell of a fight and her tongue is sharp!” She shot me a flirty comment to boot. “I’d almost like to taste it…”

Sale rolled his eyes. “Alright, no one wanted to hear that.”

“I did!” Cedro cheered.

Luca groaned. “I can't believe I work with all of you sfigatos.”

“Trust me, I think the same thing every day,” Sale mumbled.

“Hey! Who’re you callin’ a sfigato?!” Zucchero stood up 'nd got in Luca’s face.

Luca wore an unbothered expression. “You are by far the least intimidating, ugliest, stupidest faccia di culo I have ever met.” He then flipped like a switch and roared, “Get the hell out of my face!” before jammin' the handle of his shovel into Zucchero’s jaw.

Zucchero stumbled 'nd fell on top of Sale, which prompted Sale to shove 'im off 'nd join in on the argument. “Both of you are stubborn, obnoxious assholes! Shut the hell up! You don't even have the numbers to act so tough!”

“Oh, I’ve got the numbers, stronzo!” Luca retorted. “I run the streets of Napoli! Every transaction between these street punks goes through me!” He gripped his shovel tighter.

Cedro jumped in front of Luca with her arms spread wide. “Ooo! Me next, Luca! C’mon!”

“Get the hell away from me, you weirdo!” Luca then grit his teeth and wiped his watery eye again. “Dammit! All this stupidity is making my eye worse…”

“You sure it isn't just a reaction to your own stupidity?” Sale remarked with a snide tone. 

Luca raised his shovel again, aimin’ to strike Sale, but Cedro got in the way. 

“Me next!” she repeated.

Zucchero finally got up again and began trying 'ta wrestle the shovel out of Luca’s hands. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Shut up! All of you!” Aracini boomed.”Or I’ll make Bistecca shut you up!”

Bistecca began crackin’ her knuckles. Scary.

My God… All of these people were humongous morons… I might actually stand a chance 'ta weasel my way outta this. They were harmless, so long as I stayed smarter than 'em. 

My phone began 'ta ring, which got everyone’s attention 'nd halted their argument. Now all eyes were on me 'nd I froze up… Dammit… This really wasn't a good time.

“Well,” Aracini began, gesturin’ to me, “aren't you going to answer it?”

I sighed 'nd reached into my pocket, pullin' out my flip phone 'nd openin’ it. It was… It was ‘Maggie… Usually I'd love nothin’ but 'ta answer 'im, but right now… I hesitated, goin’ over my options.

“Go on,” Aracini urged with a sadistic bite in her voice.

I schooled my expression before finally swallowin’ my nerves 'nd answerin’, puttin’ the phone 'ta my ear. “Hey…”

“Hey, baby,” he greeted coolly from over the line. “I’m home. Where are ya?"

I glanced over the hungrily curious eyes starin' back at me, waitin’ for a clue as 'ta who was callin’ me. I sighed 'fore replyin'. "I’m out…”

“Where? I can meetcha there. It’s been like, a month since I've seen ya. I miss ya, gorgeous."

“It’s fine. I’ll be home… at some point. Just wait there 'nd take care 'a the cat. She’s missed ya.” I hated lyin’ to 'im like this…

“Are you mad at me or somethin’? You knew I was comin’ home today… Are you avoidin’ me? Did I piss you off?”

“No, I said it's fine. Just wait there.” I gritted my teeth 'ta keep from sayin' more than I should. All of these knobs were just waitin' for me 'ta slip up so they could pounce.

“I even brought a surprise for you. I’m really excited to show ya. I love you, baby."

Aracini began 'ta approach 'nd without much of a thought, I hung up on instinct. None of these fuckers were talkin’ to my ‘Maggie. When I shoved the phone back in my pocket 'nd held my bat tighter as a silent warning, she only laughed at me.

“That must’ve been your husband, huh? Aw, you should have kept him on the line! I would have loved to talk to him!”

I grunted 'nd gave her an ugly mug. If looks could kill, she’d be dead. “Leave ‘em outta this. He’d kill every one ‘a you. You don't know who you’re messin’ with.”

She feigned a pouty face before snickerin’ at me. “You must have a lot of confidence in him. You’ve said that before.”

“‘Cause it’s true!”

“What? Is he a cop or something?” Luca butted in.

“Government agent?!” Cedro squealed excitedly.

“Military?” Zucchero joined in.

“Did you marry a murderer? That’s what you make him sound like,” Sale joked.

I guess the way I glanced at the floor set ‘em off 'cause Aracini pointed at me with a giddy expression. 

“Oh, he is!” She looked at the rest of the team, challenging 'em to keep going.

“Is he like, a secret axe murderer? Hah!” Zucchero laughed. “You could do better than that.”

“Nah, whack jobs like that don't get married,” Sale asserted.

“Murderers get married all the time! Even the super-duper fucked up ones!” Cedro sat on the back 'a the couch now, kickin’ her feet with amusement.

Luca was silent for a long while as everyone went back 'nd forth. I kept my trap shut. I didn't want 'ta give these people anything. But apparently Luca wasn't as stupid as I thought he was…

“He’s Passione, isn't he?” he guessed, gesturin' with 'is shovel. “Murders people for a living… Sounds like someone from the hitman team.”

I didn't wanna speak, even if he was right… My silence was answer enough, though. They all went wild with amusement, congratulating him for his deduction. 

“Wait, you’re seriously married to a hitman?!” Cedro practically shrieked, fan-girling. 

“Uh–”

Aracini stepped up to me. “No one’s ever seen La Squadra di Esecuzioni . No one trusts them, not even the Capos, not even The Boss. And you're telling me that you’re married to one of them? Are you serious?”

“I’m not tellin’ you lot anything,” I spat out.

“The answer here is obvious!” Sale put 'is hand on his hip. “It’s all over your face.”

“Alex, how many of them are there?” Aracini asked, more serious now than I’ve ever seen her. She was like a brand new person.

I knew the answer, of course, but I wouldn't say. ‘Maggie’s relayed stories to me. I knew all of their names, including the new bird. But I’d pretend to be ignorant.

“I don't know. He can’t reveal crucial details like that 'ta me,” I lied.

“So, you’re like, real high-up in the famiglia by proxy, huh?” Zucchero asked. “You’re probably loaded!”

I glared at 'im. "I’m not! I’m not one 'a you people! And the job pays like shit! That's why I was even stealin’ from douches on the street in the first place!”

Aracini nodded, holdin’ her chin in thought. “Interesting… So not even our best people are getting paid well? Makes me feel better about the lack of funds on our end.”

“What do you mean?”

“This job doesn't pay too well either…” She sighed. “I’m sure you’re better off than us, though.”

“So no job in Passione pays jack shit? Glad I’m not sellin’ my soul to it.”

“Hey!” Luca growled, steppin’ past the couch and standin’ next to Aracini. “Ask your husband if he ever planned on losing himself in this organization. Don’t sit on a high-horse just because you’re on the outside, civilian.”

Aracini nodded. “No one joins by choice. It’s a matter of a lack of options, necessity, and a need for protection from something… The causes vary.” She got in my face 'nd smiled, trailin’ my jaw with her finger. “And don't forget that I own your ass .”

Flashbacks to days past when I was still a sex worker hit me like a ton ‘a bricks, right in my gut, 'nd every fiber of my being was left paralyzed. I tried to block everything out, compartmentalize 'nd save myself from the post-traumatic stress, but her words reminded me of when my pimp said the exact same thing to me. 'Is hand on my throat, 'is stingin', booze-drenched breath hittin’ my nose, 'is predatory eyes… What he did to me after I got mouthy… I felt my stomach revolt 'nd I rushed to the kitchen, my legs thankfully allowin' me to move with a mind of their own.

I hung my head over the trash can 'nd held my braids back as best I could, pukin’ ‘n retchin’, my body racked with ugly heaves. My eyes were burnin' with involuntary tears. For a moment, it felt like I was purgin' the feeling of 'is hands on me, 'nd all the horrible things he made me do… I’d only been a free woman for 'bout seven years…

I guess when I leaned over, my lower back was more exposed than ever, 'nd the devil’s tail tattoo going up my spine, as well as the raised branding scar on my hip, showed.

By the time I had finished spillin’ my guts, drool was hangin’ from my lips 'nd I took a few deep breaths 'fore reachin’ for a napkin 'nd wipin’ it away. I stood up straight again, turnin' 'round 'ta see six pairs 'a bewildered eyes on me. The room was dead silent ‘cept for my still tense breathin'.

It was only broken when Aracini pointed at me 'nd spoke cautiosly. “The Passione insignia… on your hip.”

“You worked under a magnaccia…” Luca added.

My blue eyes widened 'nd I could barely find the words. They’d seen it?

Zucchero looked like he was about to speak but Sale shoved at him, a warning 'ta quit while he was ahead. 

“Which one?” Cedro asked. “What was his name?”

My brows furrowed 'nd I bit at the inside 'a my lip. “I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.”

“What city did you operate from?” Aracini carefully approached me in the kitchen, uncharacteristically gentle.

“I said I don't wanna–”

She untucked her shirt 'nd slipped the waist of her pants down a bit to show off her hip, flashin' me the same branding scar I had. “You’re not the only one…”

I didn't know how to react. This woman… She knew my pain? But she didn't look as bothered as me. Or was she? I couldn't tell. I was too busy with my own emotions.

“His name was Castagna,” she murmured.

I felt another wave of nausea hit me, my legs startin’ to feel like jelly. That was…

“Mine too,” I blurted out. “Please tell me he’s dead by now…”

She grinned a little. “Not yet, but he will be…”

The rest of the room seemed to light up at her words, but I was still in the dark. “What?” 

“Aside from collecting tributes, we have another mission! A more personal one…” she announced, filled with a strange whimsy I couldn't begin to understand havin' in this situation. She took my hand 'nd led me back into the livin' room with the others. “We’ve set our sights on Castagna, and we’re going to eliminate him! He will pay for what he’s done…”

“We're closer than you’d think,” Luca added.

Bistecca came to Aracini’s side 'nd put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder, as if in support.

“We're gonna paint the walls in his blood! Just you wait!” Cedro cheered.

“We’ve got some intel from someone who used to work high-up in the ring. Someone who hates his guts just as much,” Sale informed.

“Not to mention, when he’s dead, his loot is ours!” Zucchero joined in.

I couldn't explain it, but hearin’ these people in fronta me share their hatred for the worst man to ever be a part 'a my life filled me with a heaven-sent, amped up fire, 'nd now, I wanted nothing more than to join ‘em.

“You all… You really think you can do it?” I asked, astonished.

“Of course. He’s getting older, and against all of us, he’d just be a weak, old bastardo. Whaddya say, Alex? We don't sound so bad now, do we?” Aracini smiled a bit.

I nodded. “Not bad at all… I’m in. We’re gonna gut this rotten sonuvabitch!”

Upon my agreement the group warmly welcomed me to their cause 'nd Bistecca’s glower even seemed to soften for half a second.

Castagna is gonna be in a million pieces in no time.

*

 

I stepped in the front door 'nd threw my keys into the trinket dish on the entry table, a heavy sigh leavin' my lips. Damn… That actually went better than I thought. I didn't exactly like the idea of havin’ coworkers, but if it made it easier to leave Castagna in a gutter, I’d make do. I set my bat against the wall in the corner, takin’ my leather jacket off. The various devil-themed tattoos on my arms were visible now, as well as thick, pointed lines as part of the top of the ‘succubus tattoo’ on my lower stomach… Ah, stupid, stupid decisions on my body forever. How nice.

I was interrupted by the sight 'a familiar eyes starin' up at me, suddenly below my gaze.

“Baby, y’alright? What did I do? Let me make it better, alright?” ‘Maggie said, enclosin' my hands in his. He was down on 'is knees like a beggar, a pathetic expression on 'is face.

“What?” I raised a brow, squintin’ at 'im. “What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“You were so short with me on the phone and you hung up without even sayin’ g’bye…” he explained, a hint 'a hurt in 'is voice. “I know I was gone for a while this time but I swear, for the next week that I’m here, I’m devotin’ every second to ya, alright?”

Damn… I really scared the shit outta 'im… I knew I had a tendency to get mad 'nd I could get real pissy 'nd mean, 'nd he was no stranger to grovelin’ for my mercy, but…

“‘Maggie, you know me. If I was really that mad at you right now, I wouldn't even be lookin’ atcha, let alone talkin’,” I said, my expression softening.

He paused for a moment, thinkin' 'fore standin’ up with a bounce in 'is step. “Hey, you’re right…”

“I’m not mad.”

“Then why did ya act like that on the phone? You really had me worried, y’know…”

“I’m sorry, I was…” I thought for a moment 'fore comin’ up with the perfect lie. “I was in a work meetin’. I couldn’t talk for long.”

'Is green eyes widened before he rubbed the back of 'is neck, an apologetic grimace on 'is face. “Damn, I’m sorry, Princess, I didn't know…”

“S’alright. Like you said, you didn't know.”

“I’ve missed ya so much. Layin’ in bed by myself started to hurt so much after awhile.” He wore 'is usual goofy grin 'nd wrapped 'is arm around my middles. “I’ve just be waitin’ to squeeze ya so tight.” 

I squirmed a bit 'nd groaned out a complaint. “I don't like bein’ squeezed! Damn idiot…”

“I've gotta! I love my beautiful, gorgeous, sweet, scary, bossy wife so much! I've gotta squeeze ya!” He lifted me up in 'is arms 'nd spun me 'round. I know he had a penchant for teasin’ me 'nd clingin’ to me, but I still found it a bother. He was like a dog with a bone.

I whined 'nd kicked my legs in the air. “‘Maggie! Let me down! Ugh, you suck!”

“C’mon, baby!” He did as I said, only to take my hand 'nd hold my waist, an almost sultry tone to 'is voice. “It's been too long…”

I knew what he wanted… I knew he looked forward to it, 'nd truthfully, so did I. I stared at 'im for a long moment with a restin' bitch face, sighing. It was hard 'ta say no to 'im when he had such a big, well-meanin' smile on 'is stupid face. He wanted passion, connection, touch. He wanted our bodies to be in sync, pressed together, breakin’ a sweat, breaths ragged.

“Fine… Turn on the music,” I agreed, rollin' my eyes.

He pressed a kiss 'ta the side 'a my neck, 'nd I could feel the giddiness 'nd excitement emanating from 'im in waves. “Hell yeah… I’m gonna rock your world.”

I blushed a bit 'nd shook my head. “Let me freshen up.”

I broke away while he messed with the stereo. We always played music when we did this together, it was just a habit, even if we could do it without it. It just added to the experience, gave us somethin’ to move to. I stepped into the bathroom 'nd looked at myself in the mirror… Alright, I can do this. I can do this. Get your head in the game, Alex. You’ve done this a hundred times before. Just give the man what he wants. You can put on a show. Let 'im have 'is fun with you 'nd get it out of 'is system.

I went ahead 'nd brushed my teeth. I hadn't gotten to since I puked 'nd I didn’t wanna get all up on ‘em before I cleaned up.

Eventually, I heard ‘Maggie call out to me in a smooth voice. “Baby, I’m ready for you… You’ve got me so excited. I can hardly control myself.”

He'd put on our usual rock mixtape CD. Oh, he was serious…

I stepped outta the bathroom 'nd made my way into the living room, standin’ in fronta 'im. 

“Let’s just get this over with…” I grumbled.

“Aw, don't be like that… I know you love it when we do this,” he teased, closin’ the distance between us, 'is hands slippin’ over my hips. “You know how badly I need this, hot stuff,” he whispered in my ear.

I shivered 'nd swallowed thickly. “Give it to me…”

Finally, somethin’ with a good tempo that we could match came on 'nd he took my hand. It was time.

“Let’s dance, ‘Maggie,” I announced. 

“My pleasure, Princess. Try ‘n keep up.” He kept 'is hand on the small of my back.

As soon as the guitar picked up, he spun me around in an underarm turn 'fore we returned to a closed position. We were totally in sync with each other, our bodies movin' 'ta the beat with fluid motions. 'Round 'nd 'round we went, focused but alive. I followed 'is lead, per usual, responding intuitively to 'is subtle cues 'nd body language.

He spun me again, this time extending 'is arm, 'nd that energy shot down 'nd I mirrored him, my arm stretched to its fullest reach. When he signaled for me to come back, I twirled in the opposite direction, my back against 'is chest now. Afterwards we, again, went back to a closed position.

Ballroom dancing was an activity we were forced 'ta learn in school as parta our physical education credit, 'nd despite the fact that we sorta still hated each other at the time, we were paired up as partners. When you get into the dance, really let the music roll over you, 'nd connect with your partner, a lot can be forgiven. With patience, we got pretty good, 'nd we never had trouble communicating after that, 'cause when our hands touched 'nd a good song came on, everything was easily understood. I suppose that even as time passed, we still used dance as a way 'ta reaffirm our bond 'nd show each other that we’ve still got it.

I forgot about my worries when we were like this.

At the peak of the song, ‘Maggie grasped my waist 'nd lifted me into the air, 'nd we went 'round in a spiral 'fore I was on my feet again, back to 'is chest. As it ended, he dipped me low 'nd, like muscle memory, I kicked my leg up, lettin' it rest in 'is free hand. My hands acted to their own accord, one on 'is chest 'nd the other cupping 'is jaw.

We stayed like this for a moment, even as the next song began, our chests risin' 'nd fallin' with mild exertion as we stared into each other’s eyes. Whenever we danced, it was like there was an electricity between us, 'nd it always made me melt for 'im.

He wore a proud, beamin' grin, 'is praise almost childishly gleeful. “Damn, you’re just as quick on your feet as ever, Princess!”

Despite it all, I smiled back 'nd nodded. “Helps to have a good lead…”

He chuckled softly 'nd leaned down, 'is face hoverin' over mine. The hand that was on 'is chest went to hold 'is face instead, while the other slid down 'nd gripped 'is shoulder. 

“I love you so much, Alex,” he murmured, 'is nose brushin’ against mine.

“I love you too, ‘Maggie…” I replied, my eyes closin'.

Our lips melded together, my creamy lipstick addin' a silky quality to our contact. As the kiss between us lingered, he slowly helped me to my feet, lettin' me stand upright. I turned my head into it, deepening it, which I think surprised 'im, 'cause he groaned faintly 'nd held me tighter.

Our kisses rarely lasted very long 'cause I had a fear 'a physical intimacy– go figure, right? Things hardly ever got heated between us, so when moments like this came, he soaked up every ounce of it he could get. I didn't mean to give ‘im blue balls, but I just missed ‘im a lot more than I wanted to admit this past month. I supposed it was all comin’ out now, even if I wanted to keep up my bitchy act.

In our fervor, we took slow steps backwards, eventually reachin’ the couch, which I laid 'gainst the arm of. He rested on top 'a me, 'is hips between my knees. This felt… good. For once, we were this close, our lips locked, 'nd I wasn't scared. I even reciprocated some of his quiet moans, 'nd I could count on one hand the amount of times in my life a sound like that had ever come outta me. ‘Cause 'a my poor relationship with sex, I was honestly nearly asexual, but I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could look at my husband 'nd get revved up, but I couldn’t, not really. Not for a lack of thinkin’ he’s good lookin’, but 'cause that parta my brain was all bogged up with pain. I wanted to want 'im just as much as he wanted me, but it’s been years 'nd I still couldn’t figure out how 'ta get over it.

But for now, I was content, 'nd I’d cherish every second of it.

I don’t know for how long we were gettin’ hot ‘n heavy, but as we were losin’ ourselves, he got a little swept up in the moment, 'nd his lips brushed against my jaw… Then my neck… all while 'is fingertips trailed along just under the waistband 'a my shorts. When that happened, I was broken outta my trance, my eyes wide, 'nd I became rigid. The phantoms of every man who'd ever touched me caught me in a chokehold 'nd I couldn't shake off the shivers 'a disgust that rang through my body, nor the way my breath hitched. I’m glad he was careful enough with me 'ta immediately realize something was wrong, 'cause he quickly stopped.

“‘Maggie, ‘Maggie, I’m done… I–I don’t want anymore.”

He backed up offa me, 'is tanned cheeks obviously flushed, 'is lips smudged with the same color as my lipstick. He shook 'is head, the look on 'is face like that of a scolded dog. “I–I’m sorry, I don’t know why I–” He seemed like he wanted 'ta reach out 'ta comfort me, but he decided against it 'nd kept 'is hands 'ta 'imself. “I should’ve checked in. It’s my fault. I’m sorry…”

I was having a hard time fightin’ off the lurchin' feeling in my stomach, but I tried 'ta reassure 'im with a weak voice. “It's alright, I’m alright… You don't gotta apologize.”

He sat down, 'is back against the couch, keeping 'is gaze low 'nd grabbin’ hold 'a one 'a the throw pillows next to 'im, tucking it 'gainst 'is lap 'ta make 'imself decent. “I wasn’t thinkin’…” He then smiled weakly. “And you’re really pretty. I love you so much.” That smile faded quickly. “I got too swept up. It’s just… That was the most action I’ve had in, like, seven or eight years… I got a little overexcited. I should’ve asked you how you were feelin’...” 

I felt so bad for 'im. I really did… I know my own demons were holdin’ 'im back from what he craved 'nd he was stuck. “I know… I’m not upset with you. I’m thankful you’ve held out this long. I don't blame you for anything…”

He looked over at me now, 'nd I could tell that despite whatever trouble he was feeling, he was puttin’ on 'is signature cool, laidback, funny-guy demeanor for my sake. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. I could feel you letting’ go… I know it’s not easy for you. That’s really important. You’re gettin’ better.”

Some 'a the sickness in my body began 'ta simmer down upon 'is words, 'nd I finally realized that I really did get further than I ever expected myself to. He was right… I sat up now 'nd replied with a delicate voice, “Thank you…”

Despite the fact that he wanted to appear unbothered, I saw 'im actively workin’ 'ta tame 'is own needs 'nd calm his body down. He rubbed 'is face 'nd sighed, closin’ 'is eyes tightly.

“‘Maggie…” I whispered, rubbin’ 'is shoulder. “I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to do this to you.”

He jumped a bit when I touched 'im before lettin’ out a laugh that seemed a bit forced. “Heh, it can't be helped… Don’t sweat it, I’ll be fine. Just… might not wanna touch me for the next few minutes.”

I realized what he was insinuating 'nd recoiled my hand, nodding. “I know you’re a very affectionate, lovin’ man 'nd you’ve really restrained yourself… refrained from what you need for so many years ‘cause ‘a me… I want you 'ta know that I appreciate your patience, alright? I don’t ever take it for granted.”

“I know, baby… I know. I won’t lie, it’s hard for me sometimes, but I can manage. I care more about takin’ care of you and makin’ sure you feel safe and loved than anything. You deserve as much… I don't got much to offer ya in terms of luxury or anything, but you're my wife– and my best friend. I wanna give you whatcha need.”

I's hardly ever heard anything more romantic than that. I smiled softly, but that ended up makin’ me tear up, my lips quiverin’. I hated bein’ weak like this. 

I was such a shitty wife… 'Is words were so selfless 'nd I… I acted like a bitch most 'a the time ‘nd I couldn't even give 'im a basic human desire. God, I was rubbish… He needed so much more than I could give ‘im, 'nd here he was, weighed down by my own baggage for nearly eight years… 

“I’m sorry…” I mumbled, tryin’ to fight back a self-pitying sob.

“Alex–”

I got up 'nd rushed to our bedroom, wipin' my eyes with the back 'a my hand. I didn’t care if I smudged my face paint. I sniffled 'nd avoided looking at myself in the mirror when I walked in. Instead, my eyes landed on our Russian Blue cat, Sweety-Baby. I needed to hold somethin’ right now, 'nd she was always there for me when I was by my lonesome…

I scooped her up in my arms, holdin' her close to my chest 'nd closin’ my eyes, beginnin' 'ta cry quietly. She purred as I kissed the top 'a her head, almost like she could tell that I needed her soothin’ comfort right now. Cats were strange like that… They always knew.

“Yeah, Mummy loves you,” I whispered 'ta her, scratchin' behind her ears. “You’re my sweet girl.”

“And you’re mine,” ‘Maggie said in a sober tone.

I turned 'round to see 'im standin’ in the doorway. I hated when people saw me weepin’. I cleared my throat 'fore speakin’ up again.

“Look, I–” I sighed. It was hard to explain…

“You don't have to justify it to me. I get it…” He met me where I was, petting Sweety-Baby as I held her. “You've had to be tough and self-sufficient all your life, and you’re not used to people seein’ the side of you that isn't at the ready.”

I nodded. He was right. He knew me well.

“But you know you don't have to hide from me, right? I’ve seen you at your worst. Like, rock bottom. God, I mean, really, Alex. Years and years ago, I tracked you down in a dingy rest stop bathroom near some forest people probably hide bodies in. You were coked up outta your mind and bleedin’ from your head, and all your shit was stolen. Who knows what else you were on… Someone had assaulted you, in more ways than one. You don’t remember that, do you? I had to take you to the hospital.”

My eyes widened 'nd I set Sweety-Baby down, at a loss for words. I reached up 'nd gently felt the small dent-like scar on the side 'a my head. So that’s where that came from… 'Ta be honest, a lot 'a my memories from that time in my life were murky 'nd hard to access. That section 'a my mind was like what was left of a smokin’ wreckage after a plane crash.

“I was there for you then, and I didn't judge,” he continued. “I never judged you or thought of you as a burden when I had to make sure you ate back then. I didn’t judge you when your apartment was trashed because you were always too worn out or emotional to clean. I didn't get annoyed, I just cleaned it for you. I never got angry when I had to just hold you at night sometimes while you cried for hours. I didn't resent you when you would lash out at me after some guy roughed you up, not even when you hit me while you were having panic attacks or goin’ through withdrawals. I never thought badly of you, even when I had to take you to get an abortion more than once."

I felt more tears wellin' up in my eyes as he took my hands in 'is.

“I said I’d stick with you through it all and I meant it back then, just like I do now. This isn't even the worst thing you've thrown at me. It’s not even the weakest I’ve ever seen ya either. Trust me when I say that you’ve become a woman that teenage you would be so proud of. I’ve watched you grow into yourself. I’ve seen you get back up again after gettin’ knocked down over and over again. You’ve survived shit that would have completely broken me. You were always too good for me, but every day you just prove how outta my league you are. How lucky I am that you said yes to my dumbass…” He smiled a bit 'nd pulled me into a hug. “And I’m just as proud of you now as I was then, if not more so. If I could, I’d tell anyone and everyone that I’m married to the most badass, strong, drop-dead gorgeous, ballsiest, truly terrifying woman in the entire world…”

I couldn’t take it anymore… I admit it, sometimes I could be a sucker for 'is words. I dunno how it happened, but he grew up 'ta be a real romantic. He was good at makin’ me feel better 'nd he had always been there for me. Even when I was nothin’ but a trashy, mood swingin’ prostitute that ingested God knows what kinds of drugs– usually not of my own choice –more than food. He was there when I was just a loser teenager with shitty parents that basically just moved into 'is family home, taken in as one 'a their own. For every single shitty moment in my life, he was there to pick up the pieces. But me…?

I cried into 'is shoulder, 'nd it had honestly been years since I let myself do this. It was a contradicting feelin' where it was disgusting ‘nd terrible, but at the same time, relief washed over me. He rubbed my back 'nd stayed silent, just letting me work out what I needed to. His cologne kept me grounded. I often wore his clothes when he was gone just to feel closer to 'im, but I’d never tell him that.

I don't know for how long I was bawling, but when I finally stopped for air long enough 'ta talk, I didn't even have anything 'ta say that'd make the situation better. 

“You've done so much for me,” I blubbered, “but what’ve I done for you?”

He sighed 'nd sat me down on our bed, joinin' beside me. “How is that even a question in your mind? Princess, you’ve done so much for me. You made me get my shit together in high school. You’re the only reason I even graduated. I was stupid as hell and I didn't pay attention in class, but you helped me study and got on my ass when I was lazy. You made me cut that bullying shit out. You were there for me after every single breakup in my life. I was headin’ down a bad road with partyin’ and drinkin’ but you set my ass straight. You taught me what it felt like to really be loved by someone, and I learned what I did and didn't want in a relationship because of you.” I looked over at 'im 'nd he reached 'is hand up, gently swipin' at one 'a my stray tears with 'is thumb. “You forget ‘bout all the good you’ve done for me ‘cause all the bad shit blocks it from your view. Stop that, alright? You’ve taught me so much ‘bout myself. Don’t ever doubt for a second that this ain’t an equal arrangement, okay?”

I nodded 'nd wore a pained smile, leanin' into 'is touch 'fore trappin' 'im in a heavy hug. I rarely initiated the affection, so I knew he was probably eatin’ this up right now. He embraced me tightly, pressin’ a kiss to my cheek.

“I love you, ‘Maggie… Really, you’re… You’re the only man I trust,” I confessed. “The only one that ain’t tried to ruin me, the only one who don’t see me as an object, the only one who’s ever respected my body 'nd treated me right.”

“I love you too, Princess… And just remember that I want you more than I want anything. I don't care about sex, even if I’d like it. I don't care that you’re a little rough around the edges. I just care that you’re happy and healthy, so stop worryin’ so much. And it’s a real damn shame that no other man has been decent to ya… You’re the best around. I know the bar is on the floor, but I appreciate your compliments.”

I nodded 'nd ran my hand over 'is hair, feelin' the short, coarse fade under my fingertips. I remember what 'is coils looked like 'fore he started shaving 'is head. I thought they were perfect.

“I’m sorry for bein’ such a drama queen today…” I tried to laugh it off now, dryin' my eyes. “Guess I’ve just had a rough go of it without you as 'a late. I…” I rolled my eyes 'nd revealed exactly the typa thing I’d usually refuse 'ta say. “My life feels real empty when you’re not 'round. I hate not seein' your goofy ass face ‘round here.”

“Aw, you’re bein’ real honest today, huh? You’re ‘bout to make a grown man blush,” he teased 'fore wearin' a soft pout, slumpin' into my arms, 'is head on my shoulder. “And I know… God, it was rough for me too. We're just gettin’ into our busy season now. You know I hate leavin’ you here…” He then laughed before rattlin' off a joke. “Too bad you can’t join our team. That way I could bring you with me. You’d be good at it, I think. Most of who we kill are shitty men, anyway…”

 Just a few months ago, I woulda scoffed in 'is face and told him to kick rocks for even suggesting somethin’ like that, but workin’ with Aracini 'nd all'd changed some things… I'd basically already become another dog on Passione’s leash by proxy, 'nd since he was a full-fledged member, I’d always be livin’ in the shadow of the organization. Besides, with my new mission 'ta kill Castagna, actually bein’ on the inside could help my cause. I’d be a higher rank than the rest of my “team”, which could do us some good.

“Why don’t you introduce me to your boss, huh? I can probably handle it,” I said.

His head shot up 'nd his jaw 'bout fell off its hinges. “Alex, you… You can't be serious, right?! The hell’s gotten into you?! Usually you get mad at me for jokin’ like that. What’s happenin’ with you today?”

I sighed 'nd thought for a long moment ‘bout whether or not I should tell ‘im. Would he lose 'is shit and hunt Aracini 'nd her people down for getting the best ‘a me? Or would he be happy that this could bring us closer together? 

I guess he found out enough on 'is own. He was sharper than anyone gave 'im credit for. He eyed me critically 'fore holdin’ my face still 'nd rubbin' at my bottom lip with 'is thumb, revealin' the small scar I had acquired in my fight with Aracini 'nd Bistecca that my lipstick usually hid. At least my hair hid the new scar on my head.

“Alex,” he gritted out sternly, “what’ve you been gettin’ into?”

My brows furrowed a bit 'nd I swatted 'is hand away. “I’m makin’ money!”

“What?”

“I can't keep a damn normie job. They always fire me 'cause I’m too mean 'nd violent. I got fired from my last one a long time ago but I never told you 'cause I didn't want you 'ta worry. I’ve got it handled! I was makin’ enough money 'ta get by 'cause I was muggin’ blokes on the street.”

I didn't know how 'ta describe 'is expression 'cept for mixed. He looked like he was both frustrated 'nd in awe. “How long’ve you been keepin’ this from me?”

I shrugged. “I dunno… It started up a little after you left that one time like four months ago...”

“Four months?!”

I flinched a bit at 'is raised voice 'fore gettin’ annoyed at myself for actin’ like a coward. “Yeah, four months! But we’ve been payin’ our bills easier, so I don’t wanna hear any whingin’!”

He let out an exasperated gripe 'nd stood up, pacin' in the open space at the front 'a the room. “It’s not about that, Alex! It’s about tellin’ me what the hell is goin’ on in your life so I at least know!” He looked at me again, gesturin' between us. “It's about communication, alright? How’re we 'sposed to be a team if you won't tell me important shit like this?”

I saw 'is point, even if I wanted to be stubborn 'nd argue with 'im just for the sake 'a it, but he'd been real sweet today, so I relented. “I–I know… I get that, I see it now. 'Nd I’m sorry… I just didn't want you 'ta have any more on your plate 'ta worry 'bout. You’ve taken care 'a me so much, but I can take care 'a myself now. I don’t wanna be useless forever…”

He took a few deep breaths 'fore lowerin' 'is voice 'nd speakin’ calmly 'ta me again. “Alright, let’s set a few things straight… I’m a grown man. I signed up for this life, so whatever stress falls on my plate, I’m just gonna have to deal with it. It can't be helped. I appreciate you tryin’ to lighten the load but it don’t help me much if you end up dead in a ditch somewhere 'cause you were gettin’ into somethin’ crazy. And now I don't know what the hell happened to my wife, right?” He sat down next 'ta me again, takin' my hands in 'is 'nd squeezin' ‘em tight. “And it’s my job to take care of ya, alright? That’s what a husband– what a friend –is 'sposed to do. I’m gonna take care of you whether you like it or not, so stop tryin’ to shut me out. You're just gonna make it harder for me to help when you really do need it. And like I said before, you’re not a burden to me. What’s yours is mine. Your struggles, your worries, your problems– they’re mine too. We gotta get through ‘em together. But we can't if you keep it all to yourself. I appreciate how independent you are but you’re only makin' things harder when you do shit like this.”

I didn't like how right he could be sometimes. It peeved me that this goofy ass motherfucker was more put together than I was. But, again, I conceded, noddin'. He grabbed my face, squishin' my cheeks 'nd forcin' me to look 'im in the eyes.

“And one last thing…” he said in a serious voice. “I don’t wanna hear you callin' yourself ‘useless’ even one more time, 'cause you’re not. If you’re the topic of the conversation, that word better not even be on your mind.”

I didn’t like bein’ told what 'ta do, but in this context, it was different… He was doin’ it 'cause he really cared 'bout me, not 'cause he wanted 'ta control me. And, I won’t lie, it was a little hot when he was affectionate but tough with me. Sometimes I needed it, like a boot to the arse 'ta get me goin' in the right direction.

“Alright, I… I understand. I’m sorry for bein' so thick in the head. I guess I’m tryin’ 'ta be hyper-independent to make up for the lack of control I’ve dealt with all my life,” I confessed. Even I surprised myself sometimes…

'Is expression softened 'nd he nodded. “I get that… But you’re not gonna have any control ever again if you join Passione. Trust me. If something ever happens, I needya to be free. Like, what if, for some reason, a bunch of people in Passione get busted, including me, and now I’m in jail for life. Who’s gonna take care of Sweety-Baby, huh? Who’s gonna tell my family what the hell happened to me? Who’s gonna visit my grave when I make a really unfunny joke in prison and get shanked to death, huh? I need to be able to depend on you…”

I didn't want 'ta think 'bout any 'a that shit. I couldn't lose 'im. I knew it could happen at any moment but I constantly fought off those fears 'nd shoved 'em down. I don't like that he seemed 'ta already be acceptin' some of the worst of 'is possible fates. 

“None of that’s gonna happen, jackass. We’ll be fine,” I stated.

“But just in case, I need you to be a civilian, alright?”

I sighed 'nd looked down for a moment. “What if… I already sorta got in with the wrong crowd?”

He looked just 'bout done with my bullshit. “You’d better be joking…”

I clicked my tongue, feelin’ a bit 'a nervousness bubble up in my gut. “I was just doin’ my thing when this Passione ‘tribute collector’ comes by 'nd makes me work for her. I've been doin’ it for a little while now. I’m not part of Passione but I’m still… too close.”

He was silent for longer than I felt comfortable with, just starin’ back at me. I hadn't seen 'im this mad in a real long time. He then spoke in a low, rumbling, venomous voice. “What’s her name? I’ll kill her. I swear I will. Nobody will ever know it happened. No one takes advantage of my wife on my watch.”

“‘Maggie, listen, if you’d even said that a few hours ago, I would’ve taken you right to their base 'nd let you do it, but I can't now.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause, we’re…” I could barely let the name roll off my tongue without gagging. “We're gonna kill Castagna together… My old pimp.”

'Is eyes widened a bit 'nd he spoke in a normal voice again. “Your pimp? You’ve refused to talk about that until now…”

“I know. But we're gonna kill 'im 'nd get revenge. I swear it!”

“Baby, I could just do it for you… I would’ve a long time ago if you’d just given me his name.”

“I–I know that too, but… This is for me. I want to kill 'im. I need to be a part 'a this. For every time he’s put 'is hands on me, I need to be the one to leave ‘em cold 'nd dead, alright? I think I might be able 'ta try 'ta find peace once 'is blood is on my hands… And the revenge isn’t just for me. It’s for my ‘boss’ too… She was one of 'is girls as well.”

He thought it over for a moment 'fore offerin’ up another protest. “But you’ve never killed someone before, Alex…”

“That's right. That's why you 'nd your team are gonna teach me how 'ta kill anyone who stands in my way.”

He raised 'is brows in surprise 'fore lettin' out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re serious about this!”

“Dead serious. I need 'ta be a capable assassin by the time I’m ready 'ta start the manhunt.”

“So… You don’t want to be a hitman, or Passione? You just wanna assassinate someone?”

“Exactly right.”

He smirked a bit. “I think we can work somethin’ out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, 'course… But just know that I’m still worried ‘bout you. I don't want you bein’ more involved in Passione than you have to, but I also wanna do right by you and help you kill the bastardo that made your life a livin’ hell.”

I leaned forward 'nd pressed a kiss to 'is cheek. “You treat me right…”

“Anything for you, Princess…”

Sweety-Baby jumped back up on the bed 'nd rubbed against 'is side, fuzzy tail wavin', purring already on high. He lifted her up 'nd pressed a few silly kisses 'ta her head.

“And anything for you too,” he said 'ta her. “I’ve missed you, sweet girl. Papa loves you, y’know that?”

I giggled a bit 'nd ran my fingers through her soft fur. He held her like a baby ‘n babbled to her; incoherent, baby-talk mush, gently tappin' her nose or scratchin' her chest the whole time. He really did love this cat…

Sometimes seein’ 'im like this made me wonder what he’d be like as a father, but those thoughts usually followed with me mentally slappin’ myself for even thinkin’ 'a somethin' so ludicrous… I couldn’t even let 'im touch me below the belt, let alone have a kid with 'im. Besides, I think I’d be a terrible mum anyway. I’m too… mean. I dunno… I’m nice 'ta the cat but she’s an animal, it’s different 'ta me. And what about when that kid becomes a teenager? Ugh, no thanks, right? I’m already plenty 'a mess all on my own. I don’t need 'ta worry ‘bout some other fragile thing.

Then again… I think it’d make me feel all warm 'nd fuzzy, seein' 'im happy 'nd holdin' a lil' sprog in 'is arms…

My head was a bloody mess today.

“Yeah, go on now,” ‘Maggie said, settin’ Sweety-Baby on the floor. “Mama and Papa gotta get somethin’ to eat.”

I turned my head at him. “Hm?”

“Yeah, c’mon, wanna go on a date? I wanna treat ya right, girl,” he explained.

“I guess…”

“Good! And after that…” He wore a shit-eatin' grin, quirkin' 'is brows.

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, we can go 'nd get that cat tree you wanted…”

“And then I’m gonna give you another run down on my teammates! Ah, you’re gonna love ‘em!”

I crossed my arms over my chest 'nd glared at 'im.

“Or… not. You don't like anyone, I forgot…”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“Alright, come on, get up! Dinner time!” He stood up 'nd pulled me to my feet as I huffed.

“Alright, alright, fine…”

“I really wanna squeeze ya again, lovebug.”

“I’m gonna tell your boss 'ta take you back for another month.”

He lifted me up again 'nd kissed my cheek a whole bunch, laughin' at me as I growled 'nd tried to push off of 'is shoulders.

“Stop! Agh–! Put me down, you pillock!” I grunted.

He tossed me over 'is shoulder 'nd held me like a sack 'a barely, carryin' me outta the room. He even sang some stupid jingle 'bout how he was annoyin' me. 

“Oooh, I’ve got my baby in my arms! We’re gonna eat real good tonight, oh yeah!”

“Shut your damn mouth, dumbass!”

 

-- Chapter End --

🔺🔺🔺

Notes:

Listen to Want You Bad by The Offspring. Also, yeah, some angst and also MINOR ANTAGONISTS!!!! Sounds stupid but I imagined them either dancing to this song or Buddy Holly by Weezer lol

Chapter 31: Alone Together

Summary:

The founding members of La Squadra meet and bond in an unconventional way...

Third-person perspective

Firenze, Italia- 1993

 

Another morning in this empty, decrepit hideout. It was just Risotto, a folding lawn chair and TV dinner table, and a floor-bound mattress– aside from basic kitchen appliances. This place could use some life, some cleaning, the chatter of another person, but, no… It was just a lonely, angsty nineteen year-old awaiting some kind of direction in his life and someone else to talk to but himself.

Risotto was awoken by the sounds of knocking on the front door, which stirred him out of his feverish, early-afternoon slumber. What the hell…? He groaned and rubbed his grainy eyes, strands of his long, silver hair going every which way. He didn't have time to make himself look presentable, nor did he care. He was clad in nothing but dark lounge pants and the many piercings on his face and ears.

He made his way down the splintering wooden stairs and grumbled a bit as the knocking only continued. When he finally reached the door, he swung it open, secretly concealing a ready-made knife in his hand which was hidden by the door. When he looked down, he saw a shorter, blue-eyed blonde with jaw-length, fluffy hair. She was wearing a serious expression, seemingly unsurprised by the large, intimidating man in front of her.

He narrowed his piercing, dark eyes and hissed out a response, “If it’s food you’re looking for, get lost. I don't have any either.”

“I’m not here for food,” she said, a matter of fact, straightforward tone in her voice. “You’re Risotto Nero, right? I’m Prosciutto. I was told to come to this address in order to meet my new squad captain.”

Risotto’s eyes widened and he studied the girl for a moment, relaxing his hold on the knife. “You’re Passione? You look like you belong on a school field trip.”

“I am. I was ordered to join La Squadra di Esecuzioni under your leadership.”

He made a bit of a face before letting the girl past him, the knife in his hand dispersing into nothingness.

When Prosciutto finally stepped into the barren room, she looked almost devastated. “Is this…? Is this it?”

Risotto moved past her and into the kitchen, dark scars on his back and arms. “Don't act so shocked, I answered the door looking like this. You should have known what you were getting.”

She grimaced a bit and set down the bag she had been carrying. “This is awful…”

“Yeah, how do you think I feel? I’ve been living here for a lot longer than you,” he said, drinking orange juice straight from the carton.

She furled her nose up at him. “Ugh! Gross! What if I wanted some of that? Don’t you have any manners?”

He shrugged and put the carton back in the fridge. “I don't have any dishes. Besides, that’s my breakfast.”

She shook her head, adjusting her plain navy suit that was a little big on her. It was clearly a hand-me-down. “So… it’s just you and me?”

“Yes… I guess I should have been more prepared for your arrival, but I can't check my emails here because there’s no Internet. And I didn't feel like going to a library or something just to do that.”

“Oh, why not? I love libraries.”

“Of course, you do. You look like a middle schooler; you probably just came from one.”

“You’re not professional at all! I’m seventeen!”

He blinked a few times. “Really? Damn, sorry. I’m nineteen.”

“Oh…” She thought for a moment before raising a brow at him. “Are you Sicilian? You have an accent.”

“Se. Born and raised. Only left last year… You’ve got an accent too, a weird one. Where are you from?”

“I’m from España. I only moved to Italia last year.”

“Spanish, huh? That’s interesting…” He rummaged through the cabinets, looking for something, anything. “Damn… No good.”

Prosciutto watched him for a moment, her expression softening. “You’re not used to being on your own, are you?”

He glanced back at her, a bit hesitant to answer. “I… guess not. But I don't need anyone,” he muttered bitterly.

“Everyone needs someone…”

“I’ve made it just fine this far on my own, new girl.”

“I’m not a girl.”

Risotto turned around to look Prosciutto up and down, confused. “You look and sound like one. What are you supposed to be then?”

“I’m a boy. Maybe I don’t look like it right now, but…” He looked down, ashamed. The poor kid looked scared of what this guy might do to him. 

But Risotto didn't have the energy nor the care to argue. He just shrugged. “Fine. You’re a boy. That doesn't change the fact that we don't have any food.”

Prosciutto looked up, blue eyes wide. “What? You’re not going to call me disgusting? Blasphemous? A delusional girl? You're just… accepting it?”

“Why should I care? It doesn't affect me at all,” he asserted before gesturing to himself– piercings, smudged leftover dark makeup, and all. “Look at me and tell me if you think I haven't been called a freak before. Problem is you care too much. Who gives a fuck what anyone else thinks?”

He wore a troubled expression. “But what if they try to hurt me? What if they hate me so much, they want me dead?”

He approached him now, staring down at him with a stern glare in his eyes. “You’re a mafioso. Everyone wants you dead all of the time. Get used to it. Don’t get your feelings hurt so easily. And in this line of work, if someone tries to kill you, you kill them first before they can even think about it. Get your head in the game.”

“Right… We’re hitmen and mafiosos… No time for weakness.”

“Everyone has a weakness. Just don’t have it on the job.”

He nodded. “I can do that…”

Prosciutto had never had anyone to look up to or seek guidance from in his life. He was the eldest of his siblings with neglectful parents, so he had to not only learn everything for himself but teach it to others. To have someone who was willing to tell him something for once without him having to find out the hard way felt like a gift from God. This man was going to be his saving grace, he knew it… And maybe, for once, someone would take care of him. He didn't know what that was like at all, to be guided and tended to…

“Alright, Caruso, I don't have food for you, or a bed. I’ve got plenty of spare rooms, but I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.” Risotto paced around the room, thinking of a solution. 

“I-I can sleep on the floor. I’ve done it plenty of times before…” Prosciutto replied reluctantly.

“No, no. I don’t want you to. We’ll find an answer, maybe just not today. Food is the priority.”

“Have you ever tried going to a food bank?”

He stopped in his tracks and looked at the boy. “What?”

“You know, a place that hands out free food to needy people. I used to have to go to them all the time to feed my siblings.”

“Man… Guess that goes to show what kind of life I’ve had. I didn't even really remember those existed.”

Maybe this guy wasn't a savior after all. Maybe he was just another wayward kid…

“Right…” Prosciutto began, “We should go to one, then. It’ll at least get us by for now. Do you have a car?”

Risotto deadpanned and spoke in a dry tone. “What the hell about my empty cupboards and folding lawn chair makes you think I have a car?”

“Sorry… I should have known better. Fine then, a bus pass?”

“Come on, Caruso… Think hard about this.”

He wore a concerned expression… They really were dirt poor… “Alright, uh… Hold on.” He knelt down and stuffed his hand in his duffel bag, reaching for a leather wallet that was worn at the edges. He retrieved a few neatly folded Lira, holding them out to the man. “Here, the last of my money… It should get us to a food bank and back.”

Risotto paused for a moment, staring at the offering the boy held in his hands, an alien feeling of pity washing over him. Damn… It was just the two of them against the world at this point, alone together, and Prosciutto was placing his full trust in him.

He didn’t want this job, he just wanted to survive. He was glad to have some company, but he had no real experience leading anyone, or even really being a good person. He spent every night here wallowing in misery, drinking stolen booze, staring at the walls, playing with knives, singing to himself since he couldn't afford records, or trying desperately to avoid punching the walls in. The holes in his walls, however, showed that he had failed to do so more than once…

In his state– with his shitty moods, rough nature, and less-than-gentle approach to confrontation –he was in no place to be emotionally available for some well-meaning kid who didn't belong in this situation, but…

What choice did he have?

Risotto took the money and stuffed it into the pocket of his baggy pants, nodding, his dark-painted lips– adorned with piercings –pressed into a thin line. “Alright… Let me get dressed and we’ll go.”

“I’ll be waiting,” was all Prosciutto said in response. 

Risotto made his way up the stairs, holding a heavy sigh in his chest, only letting it out once his bedroom door was closed so that the boy couldn't hear it. This was tough. It wasn’t just about him anymore, he had to worry about someone else now. He didn't ask for this… Why did he have to be so good at killing people that they gave him a team?

When he emerged from his room again and descended the stairs, he was now dressed in black and white striped pants, an inconspicuous, ratty black trench coat with the top few buttons undone, and cleaned up dark makeup on his lips and eyes. His white hair was now brushed, bangs swept sideways, falling over his left eye. He was looking like an extra right out of a low-budget rock music video.

“Are you ready?” Prosciutto asked, tying back his jaw-length hair into the world’s smallest ponytail.

“Yeah,” Risotto huffed, “let’s get this over with. You need anything else while we’re out? Maybe I can steal it for you.”

“Steal it? Do you really think a shopkeeper won’t spot a sketchy looking guy like you from a mile away and immediately paint you as a thief?”

Risotto opened the door for him, letting him out first. He was wearing a tired but business-like expression on his face… This kid had no idea about Stands… Or did he? “You think I survived this long being a no-name delinquent without having a few tricks up my sleeve? Come on, have some faith in me.”

The boy sighed and shrugged, looking about at the industrial park around them… This house was in such a weird area. Where did Risotto even get it? His eyes made their way to a standing brick flower bed, empty and ready to be filled with color.

“Oh, look at that. We could plant flowers in there…” he remarked, pointing to it.

“Yeah, yeah, flowers. Whatever. Flowers are boring. We should fill it with something cool,” Risotto retorted.

Prosciutto wore a bewildered expression before hesitantly speaking up again. “What… What else do you fill a flower bed with besides flowers?”

“I dunno… Rocks and dirt and worms…”

“Hm… I’d prefer to keep worms out of this.”

“You never told me what else you needed.”

“Right…” He thought for a moment as the pair walked towards the nearest bus stop. “I brought most of what I needed with me, aside from a bed. I’d like to say I prepare well for most everything. I thought everything out. The only things I need are things I can't have… yet.”

He raised a brow at him, hands in his pockets. “What is it that you ‘can’t have’, then?”

“Uh… It probably sounds stupid…”

“Go on. I don't have any patience for sheepishness.”

Again, filled with the embers of a fire by his words, Prosciutto was inspired to follow his direction. “I want hormones, you know? Testosterone, from a doctor… so I can look and sound more like how I feel. And I…” He looked down at his feminine chest. “I want these gone. There’s a surgery for that…”

Risotto mulled over the boy’s expressed desires, going over the logistics of the whole thing. “Well, I certainly can't steal that for you… But as some money comes our way, we can save up for it, together.”

Prosciutto’s big eyes turned to look at him, sparkling with hope. When he opened his mouth, his big front teeth showed more than average, and it was even more obvious when he smiled. But he had a nice smile, so Risotto didn't mind. Besides, it wasn't often that he made someone do that…

“Really? You… You’d do that for me? You hardly know me. Why would you sacrifice your money for me?” Prosciutto asked.

He shrugged. “Self-expression is important. I mean, look at me…” He gestured to himself. “Besides, this job is dangerous. We could die at any moment. If you’re going to die, might as well die in the body you actually like having.”

It was a bit more of a morbid reason that Prosciutto would have hoped for, but he appreciated it anyway. “Thank you… You really don't have any idea how much this means to me…”

“Don’t mention it, Caruso. Just, uh… don’t get all sappy or anything if I do this for you. That shit is so annoying it makes me want to turn my insides out onto the bricks.”

“Noted…”

They finally reached a bus stop, waiting by the sign. In their need for food, Risotto forgot one crucial detail. He glanced over at the guy next to him before taking a shot in the dark.

“Hey, you, uh… You don’t happen to know where a food bank is, do you?” he asked.

Prosciutto pulled a thick, folded piece of paper from out of his pocket before opening it for what seemed like forever. To Risotto’s surprise, it was a giant map of Italia with different annotations, highlights, arrows, and notes littering it. This kid really was prepared for just about anything. He had every place in the country relevant to Passione or basic survival marked down. 

“Mmm, looks like if we ride this bus to its stop in the southern part of Firenze, we’ll find a food bank a few blocks away from the bus stop, but we’ll be in a bad area of town,” he answered.

Risotto looked over the map with a curious expression, trying to make sense of it. “Glad you can read that, because I can’t… Maps are confusing.”

“Then leave the navigation to me. We should reach the food bank in forty-five minutes to an hour.”

“Being in a bad part of town doesn't scare me…” he claimed, always trying to sound tough. “I’ll just kill anyone who looks at me the wrong way.”

“Have some class. If we’re to be hitmen, we should carry ourselves with some dignity.”

“What dignity? I work from a folding table, and I don’t even own a bed frame. We’re at rock bottom.”

“In order to attract respect, you have to act respectable. If we want the rest of Passione to see us as professionals and give us jobs, we have to act like we deserve that kind of attention.”

He rolled his eyes. “Boring. You sound like someone’s mom. We’ll get jobs if we’re good at killing people. That’s the bottom line.”

Prosciutto sighed and shook his head, folding his map away. “We have a lot of work to do…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If we ever want to be efficient, reliable, productive, and have some money to our name, we need structure, organization, diligence, and training. For right now, it’s just the two of us, but eventually, this will grow into a, well… squad, hence the name. We need to be prepared for that,” he explained, a determined expression on his face. “I’m glad they sent me to you first and not someone less responsible than you. I fear you’d be in hot water if that were to have happened…”

It was odd, being lectured by a boy younger than him and begrudgingly agreeing that he was right, but Risotto was partially glad that he was sent what appeared to be the most responsible kid in the world. That would make things a lot easier, because he really had no clue what the hell to do or where to even start… It seemed like, from the moment he stepped in the door, Prosciutto had formed a plan and was going to be the brains behind this operation, at least until Risotto could get his act together.

“You sound like a dweeb, you know that?” was the only reply Risotto could offer. He wasn’t adept at expressing gratitude or explaining his emotions. “But fine, we’ll do it your way… Mostly because you actually have a way.”

Prosciutto wore a smug smile and chuckled a bit. “Good, because I won't be able to rest until everything is in order. After we get food, the first thing I'm doing is cleaning up the place. Where do you keep your cleaning supplies?”

Risotto stared at him for a moment before his brows tensed. “What cleaning supplies?”

“Ugh, are you serious? God, you’re hopeless…”

“Hey! I’m not…” He looked at the ground, pouting a bit. “I'm not ‘hopeless’...”

“Do you, at the very least, have some rags and a broom?”

“...No.”

Prosciutto closed his eyes and bit at the inside of his lip, trying to take deep breaths to calm down. “Why not?”

“I can't afford those!”

“You couldn't steal them?!”

“I… guess I could have, but…” He felt the heat of embarrassment graced his features, and that frustrated him. “It wasn’t on my list of priorities, alright?! God… You camurrìa…”

“I’m a what?”

“Pain in the ass!” He growled a bit.  

“Well, estás descuidado y carece de modales."

“The hell did you just say to me, Spaniard?”

“I said you’re slovenly and lack manners.”

He gritted his teeth before pointing at him. “Look, I don’t like being told what to do. I’ve got some anger issues and that’s bound to set me off. I’m going to work with you because I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, but remember who your elder is.”

He shrunk down a bit and nodded. “A–alright, I get it… Lo siento. I…” He sighed. “I’ve spent my whole life raising my siblings because my parents weren't involved. I'm used to running the house and being in charge, but… I’ll defer to you.”

Now Risotto felt bad… The kid obviously had good intentions, but this was only their first day together. They were still learning about each other’s little quirks and how to communicate. He shook his head before responding.

“It’s fine, Caruso… This’ll be an equal thing, alright? I’m going to need all the help I can get… Just try not to treat me like a child, even if I act like one. Can we agree on that?”

With that, Prosciutto recovered. “I can do that, yes… But do you think you could steal some cleaning supplies for me?”

“Fine… As long as I don't have to clean.”

“With your track record I wouldn't trust you to in the first place.” He wore a subtle smirk that only grew into a full-on grin when Risotto barked at him.

“Hey! What did I say?! God… No one ever understands me,” he whined, blowing the bangs out of his eyes.

This only caused Prosciutto to huff with amusement and roll his eyes… Such a teenage thing to say…

 

*

 

The bus ride to the food bank was long and boring, and the two men took to sitting next to each other in the back of the vehicle. It seemed as though Risotto didn't want to talk, occupying himself with leaning against the window as if he were in an angsty, black and white music video, imagining drops of rain streaming down the glass. However, Prosciutto found it a perfect time as any to get to know him better… He just didn’t know where to start. Perhaps he could have been better with his words…

“There's a sadness about you,” Prosciutto blurted out.

Risotto picked his head up, slightly dazed by the way the vibrations of the window buzzed against his skull. “What?”

“Oh, uh–” He quickly switched gears, realizing that was a bad way to begin. “I just mean, you… have this sort of energy that is…”

“Angry, melancholic, depressing, pathetic, scary… Yeah, I know,” he finished for him.

“I was going to say drab, but yes…”

“I’m not a very successful person, and life sucks. But I get by.”

“Things will change, I have faith.”

“Yeah, keep it alive for as long as possible, kid. This life will drag it out of you. Beat it dead with a stick until it’s nothing but a twitching, bloody pulp gasping for air.”

“That’s graphic.”

“If there’s one thing you should learn about me very quickly, it’s that I’m not going to sugarcoat anything. You’re a mafioso, just like me, so I’m going to treat you like a fellow man. That means no one is going to coddle you or let you down easy. We’re a team, but at the end of the day, it’s every man for himself. Got it?”

He nodded. “I understand… I’ve spent a full year in Passione so far. You know that, right?”

“Caruso, I don't know a damn thing about you– except for the things you’ve told me since I opened the door to you.”

“Isn’t there anyone you can go through to get basic things, like internet, so that we can at least do our job?”

“Maybe I could talk to a Capo but I only know the one in Napoli.”

“Ah, you’re talking about Polpo, right?”

“Mhm. I’m not close to him, but he is the one that recruited me, so… I guess I could try to plead our case to him.”

“I could help you.”

He snickered a bit. “Yeah? How?”

“Well…” He shrugged. “I like to think I’m good with words.”

“You can be good at a lot of things but if it’s not killing people, being stoic, being loyal to the organization, or keeping a tight lip, they don't care that much.”

“I see… How long have you been part of Passione? ”

“A year, going on two… But I’m good at my job and that's all they care about.”

“Right. So, we’re in a pretty similar situation.”

“I guess you could say that.”

Prosciutto sighed before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat. “Do you think we’re ever going to feel like we have a home one day? That maybe we’ll gather enough people and feel like a family?”

“Family doesn't matter,” he lied through his teeth, trying to fight off the memories of his own. “They only hold you back in this job.”

“We’re human. We need connection. If we’re around someone for long enough, we feel kinship with them. And I… I want to feel like I have a family again, eventually… Maybe the people who join our team will be unfortunate kids just like us. Maybe they'll be sympathetic and want a family too.”

Risotto scoffed. “Psh. Don't get your hopes up… Every single motherfucker in Passione is a rotten bastard.”

He opened one of his eyes, glancing at him. “Every one?”

“Well…” He sighed. “I guess there are some… exceptions. Otherwise it wouldn't be a rule. I mean, I don’t think you are.”

“I don't think you are either.”

“Hah! I am. I’m one of the worst…”

At first his declaration seemed boisterous, but it was clear from the way his head hung and his expression dropped that Risotto was neither proud of this nor sure of it. Prosciutto took a leap of faith and leaned against the man’s arm, his head resting on his shoulder. It’s been a long while since he had felt like he could even do so much as breathe around another person, let alone be vulnerable or be touched. Risotto, in a way, felt similarly, but much like a cat, he stiffened up and looked down at him with an annoyed expression.

“What are you doing?” he asked with an unsure voice. It was painfully obvious that he was trying to come off as angrier than he felt.

“I've made a long journey to you today. I’m resting my eyes. What else could I be doing?” Prosciutto responded in a sedated manner, not moving.

For a moment, Risotto was inclined to shove him away and tell him to eat shit, but he didn't… He couldn't do that. Not to this kid. Instead, he eventually settled back down again and let out a strangled sigh.

“You're way too soft. This job is going to eat you alive,” he complained.

Prosciutto shrugged, unbothered. “I have full confidence that the constant death and crime around me will eventually dull my ability to enjoy things… I just want to hold onto it for a little while longer.”

A year… It only took a year for Passione to break Risotto and make a mess out of him, worse than he was before. But this kid had been there for the same amount of time and he was holding out… Maybe he was just a better person, or stronger. Something… But he didn't want to see what was left of how delicate he was fade away. No…

Prosciutto was under Risotto’s protection now.

He wasn't always the best big brother in the world to his sister back home in Sicilia, but maybe this was like a second chance. He put his arm around the blond, trying to act nonchalant, when in reality, it was a big step for him, and he knew that. Prosciutto didn't seem to mind or make much of a deal out of it at all, though, which made it easier…

“Maybe that faith will do you good after all…”

 

*

 

The two had successfully made it to the food bank, collected what they were offered, and now stood waiting at another bus stop, listening out for the sounds of an approaching engine and hydraulic breaks. They really were in a shit neighborhood, and while Prosciutto seemed calm, Risotto was on edge and antsy.

He’d quickly whip his head around to scout out any little noise around them, eyes peeled, hyper-vigilant. He couldn’t remember if he was always like this or if the job made him that way, but all he knew is that he was prepared for an attack at any moment. His grip on the paper bag full of food in his arms was subconsciously tightening with every second.

Prosciutto, however, was occupying himself with thoughts of how he’d like to make their hideout more homey… How nice it would be to clean the dingy place. There was a relaxed air about him as he stood by the tense man’s side, a large paper bag in his arms as well.

“I need this damn bus to get here already…” Risotto said under his breath.

“The harder you think about it, the harder it’ll be to wait, you know,” Prosciutto replied in a sage manner.

“This is the type of neighborhood you get jumped in… Forgive me for understanding how the world works.” He rolled his eyes.

“If someone attacks us, we keep a level-head and retire them. Simple.”

“Have you ever killed someone before?”

“I have.”

“Then you should know that without the proper steps, it could go wrong at any moment. I mean, we’re all alone in a place where the cops probably don’t even bother coming. It’s a surprise no one’s tried to mess with us…”

“Oh, you mean like now?”

“What?!”

Risotto turned in the direction where Prosciutto was pointing gingerly, watching three shady-looking men skulk out of the shadows of the nearby buildings. The looks on their faces told him everything he needed to know: they were looking for trouble.

“Those are some nice, full bags of groceries you've got there,” the middle man, tallest of the three, began. “Looks like you’ve got too much money to be standin’ around in this part of town.”

Risotto set his bag down and stood in front of the younger boy, arms outstretched to safeguard him. There was an intense, protective, fury-filled grimace on the man’s face, his growl of warning coming out from behind clenched teeth.

“Vaffanculo. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't gut you just for looking at us.”

It was strange. His words were vicious but he didn't raise his voice once. There was no need. The low rumble of his venomous promise combined with the glint in his eyes communicated everything that was left unsaid.

“It’s three against one, smart guy. And, face it, that little girl isn't gonna help you much,” the ringleader said, a dark sneer on his face, his teeth dirty.

Prosciutto peeked out from behind Risotto, eyes narrowing as he studied the enemy.

“I’m giving you three more seconds to turn around and walk away,” Risotto threatened, though he didn't plan on letting them go at all.

“You ain't so scary, punk-rock reject!” The ringleader sent his two men after him, both brandishing tire irons. 

Risotto, however, didn't react at all, except for a bit of a smile. As the men drew nearer, Prosciutto’s eyes widened and he felt a sense of dread creep up his spine. He grabbed hold of Risotto’s arm, shaking him.

“Risotto! Do something! Don’t just stand there!”

“I am.”

The tire irons in the thugs’ hands began to wriggle and pulsate of their own accord, which stopped the men as they watched their weapons with horror-stricken expressions.

“What the–?!”

They then exploded into a handful of razor blades, sticking into the skin of the men’s faces, the wounds oozing thick, crimson ichor. 

The ringleader’s jaw hung open as he took a step back. “What the fuck?! This can’t be happening! What is happening?!”

“Come closer and you’ll find out,” Risotto urged, gesturing towards him with a sadistic grin on his face. “I want to feel my fist hitting your face.”

“Stay away from me, you freak! Ora! Come on!”

As he said that, four more men emerged from the alley behind them, all brandishing either blades, tire irons, or crowbars. Prosciutto turned around and his breath hitched in his throat, his lips pulled back into a dismayed frown.

“Risotto! Behind us…”

Risotto could only afford one glance backwards before the previous two men he was fighting got back up. “Come on, Caruso! Tell me you’ve got some fight in you!”

“I–I do, but there’s four of them!”

“This is just how I wanted to spend my afternoon…”

Risotto picked up one of the razor blades from the ground before digging the edge into the skin of his exposed forearm, his scowl not even faltering as he sliced himself open. Prosciutto gasped upon seeing this and felt his stomach drop to his feet.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the boy shrieked.

“My job. I expect you to do yours.”

With that, he used the blood gushing from his raw flesh to form a large machete, eyes still locked on the approaching enemies. He placed the blade in Prosciutto’s hands.

“If you don't know how to use a knife in combat, you’re about to get a crash course,” he said, glancing at the scared kid. “Hold your own while I kill ‘em all.”

“What?! Ris–” Prosciutto’s pleas went unheard. 

Suddenly he was left standing alone, and Risotto was nowhere to be found. Huh…?

Prosciutto was broken out of his panic when one of the original three thugs cried out. He turned around, only to see a pair of scissors appear from out of thin air, slitting the thug’s throat open; a macabre, wine-red waterfall spilling onto the pavement at his feet. The man fumbled, disgusting gargling emanating from the hole in his neck before he fell to his knees. 

What had just happened?!

Prosciutto didn't have time to think. The four men that had their sights set on him rushed him, weapons drawn. How was one machete going to fend them all off?! Still, he held the blade tightly and prepared for the pain that was coming.

And it was a good thing he did.

He was immediately struck in the head and grunted. Then the knee. But after the initial shock and wincing, he still managed to wield his knife. He stabbed the closest guy in the gut with as much force as he could muster, but his knife got stuck and he couldn't pull it out. Not good…

The men pushed him onto the pavement, holding him down as he struggled, kicking his feet. Just as the ugliest one was raising his crowbar over the boy’s head, he closed his eyes, accepting his fate, but…

The sensation of metal cracking against his head never came. 

When he opened his eyes again, a large, inhuman, many-eyed creature was standing over him using one of its large, clawed arms, the other one in a blocking hold, keeping the crowbar back with some strain. It looked like… a big upper body…? With entrail-like wires hanging from its waist… What the hell was this thing?!

Prosciutto screamed and managed to kick his feet enough to dig his heels into the road, pushing himself backwards, chest heaving with ragged breaths. He hadn't even realized that there were tears in his eyes.

This creature was fending his assailants off for him, but it didn't seem like they could see it.

“There’s something stopping me! It’s like the air is stopping me!” one of the men yelled. 

“You pussy! Move outta my way!” another shouted. 

He lunged at Prosciutto, and the boy cowered and held his arms in front of his face, whimpering. But again, this creature saved him, turning its attention to this new attacker and grabbing hold of him. 

“Ah! Somethin’s got me! Somethin’s grabbin’ me!” the man yelled.

A pair of scissors flew across the air and one of the blades submerged into the man’s cheek, sticking out of the thick muscle there. He howled in pain and grabbed at them, and that was just long enough for Risotto to reappear from thin air and almost bend the blood like magic, creating a gigantic carving blade and driving it into his neck. He dragged it down the man’s body with much resistance, but with a grunt of effort, the thug was left gutted like an animal. The sight of his putrid innards spilling out as he convulsed in agony was so vile that Prosciutto had to hold back vomit.

Risotto’s fair skin and light hair was stained with red splotches, as well as his clothes. He looked like he had rolled around in paint, but he didn’t seem bothered by the sight at all. No, he was…

He was smiling.

The strange creature faded out of sight, and Prosciutto, though he was terrified of it, was almost sad to see it go.

“These guys are fuckin’ crazy! He just gutted Marco!” a thug exclaimed.

“You’re next!” Risotto pointed to the nearest one, laughing a bit. 

Prosciutto watched his leader seemingly go invisible again, only to pop up behind the thug and grab him by the head.

“Surprise, bitch.”

The man’s jaws damn near unhinged he was wailing so loudly, but it became an ungodly, raspy choking noise as razor blades tore through the skin on his face, slid out of his eye sockets, and flew out of his mouth. 

How was he doing this?!

Prosciutto was scared shitless, but seeing his boss in action motivated him to at least do something noteworthy. So, despite being scared shitless, he…

Jumped to his feet, rushing towards the man he had stabbed earlier, shoulder ramming him whilst he grabbed the handle of the knife. He finally pulled it out, only to plunge it into the thug again as he roared in pain. Then again. Then again. Then again. Until he was sure the body lying on the sidewalk was dead.

Once that was over with, he dashed towards Risotto.

“How are you making weapons?! Disappearing?!” He was nearly out of breath. His porcelain-pure skin was tainted with blood spray now, his hair a mess. He looked almost feral now, like a frightened baby animal.

“Not important right now. We’re almost done here. There’s only one more left,” Risotto huffed, dismissing him.

“You fucking monsters!” The ringleader was trembling, pointing at them. “What the hell are you guys?!”

“We're La Squadra di Esecuzioni," Risotto said, lips curled into a twisted grin. “You’ve ganged up on the wrong bastards.”

“I’ve got this last one handled!” Prosciutto declared eagerly, machete in his hand. 

“Then please, do the hon–”

Risotto cut himself off when he watched the last thug whip out a pistol, his heart nearly exploding. Prosciutto was sprinting towards him, not yet seeing it with his tunnel vision. 

No. 

 

No. 

 

No!  

 

He would not be losing anyone today.

 

As the thug’s finger hugged the trigger, Prosciutto finally froze, scampering and preparing to run, but before he even could, all he could see was red.

When he wiped his eyes, a giant metal javelin had impaled the man’s head, streaked with gore and sticking into the small patch of dirt behind him. The thug's face was utterly destroyed, imploded inward. The only thing that remained, as what was left of his head slid down the pole, was bits of brain matter. With faint squelching and metallic creaking, the body soon hit the ground, devoid of life.

Prosciutto was left with simmering acid rising in his throat, his stomach upset by the sight, water brash seizing his tongue. He panted, unable to even articulate how he was feeling in the present moment… Did all of this really just happen? 

He was broken out of his daze by the sound of Risotto cursing and grunting. He turned around quickly to see him bleeding from his face in various areas, some flesh missing. His piercings were…

Gone.

Had whatever strange power he was using ripped them out of his face?

And even more concerningly, his skin was painted a warm orange from the illumination of a lighter. He was holding the flame up to his fingertips. Was he…?

Prosciutto ran towards him and snatched the lighter out of his hand, absolutely fuming. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Risotto glared at him, and despite the poker-face he was wearing, it was obvious in his eyes that his searing, mangled face was seriously painful. “What does it look like? I’m burning off my fingerprints.”

“Why?!”

“These were more hands-on kills. I usually work from a distance. I’ve touched everything here, and I have a criminal record. They'll track me down.”

Prosciutto swallowed his confused rage for the time being, nodding hesitantly. “I see…” He gave the lighter back to him.

Risotto winced a bit as he continued scorching the skin of his fingers. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “They don’t… have your fingerprints on file, right? La polizia, I mean…” He took a sharp breath. “Merda! Chistu fa duluri…"

“N-no… but…”

“What?”

“Where’d your piercings go?”

He sighed, finally finishing the job and sticking the lighter back in his pocket, waving his hands to cool them off. His fingertips were already blistering. “They got pulled out of my face… Side effect of strong magnetism.”

“Magnetism?”

“Yeah. My Stand, Metallica, manipulates the iron in my surroundings or in my blood using magnetism.”

“Stand?” 

“You know that beast that protected you earlier? That was yours. It’s a manifestation of the soul, and a hallmark of pledged Passione members.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“I’ll explain when we get home. We need to leave. Now. Get the groceries.”

Prosciutto was frozen for a moment, unable to process this whole thing, but when Risotto repeated his order, he finally came back to reality and picked up the two paper bags. Red flecks had landed on them but the food inside was still good.

“We’re covered in blood. We can't get on another bus,” Prosciutto broke the momentary silence.

“I know… We’re walking.”

“What?! That will take us hours! Someone will call the cops if they see two men covered in blood walking the streets!”

“Just…” He turned around, taking a deep breath and putting his dirty hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing. We’ll walk until we can find a car to steal.”

Risotto then turned invisible again, save for his eyes. Prosciutto tensed up when he felt a tingling, cold sensation embrace his skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Covering you in reflective iron so no one can see you. Now start walking.” He put his hand on his shoulder so that they wouldn't accidentally get separated. 

He was too appalled and shaken up to argue, so he followed his leader, trying to shut out the racing thoughts in his mind. He didn't even dare to look back at the carnage they had caused. He’d remember this massacre just fine when he closed his eyes for years to come.

 

*

 

It didn’t take them long to find a maroon car with sun-faded paint parked along a littered alleyway. Perfect… Risotto, still unseen, approached the trunk of the car and held a freshly made wedging tool in his hand, using it to peel the license plate off the back, the metal groaning. Once it had fallen to the ground with a clang, he made his way to the driver’s side door.

“Come here, Caruso. I’m going to teach you how to break into a car,” Risotto demanded in a low voice, his split lips stinging.

Prosciutto stood beside him without much hesitation. “Alright, I'm watching.”

“First, wedge the tool in the corner of the doorframe…” He did so. “You see where the weather stripping touches the body of the car?”

“Yeah.”

“Use your hand to…” He grunted a bit. “Create a gap between the two.” With pained effort, he did so. “A long reach tool is about to slide out of the gash in my arm. Catch it.”

Just as he said that a bloody metal pole began to protrude from an invisible cut on his body and Prosciutto clumsily caught it, despite his arms being full. 

“Thanks,” Risotto muttered. He then took it from him and shoved it into the gap in the car door. “Use this to push the little lock thing down.” The car let out a mechanical click before Risotto relaxed and opened it from the handle.

“Oh, wow… That’s really interesting. How many times have you done this before?” Prosciutto asked.

“Too many times… Amunì, now I’ll teach you how to hotwire it.” He sat down in the driver’s seat, but he was still invisible, so the only indication he did so was the fact that the car dipped slightly to one side.

“The most important part…”

“Right.” A screwdriver hovered under the steering column. “Unscrew this plastic panel under the steering wheel…” After a minute or so, he had done it. “Now, I’m going to run over the steps really quick, then shut up so I can focus. I don't want to get electrocuted…”

Prosciutto nodded, though no one would’ve been able to tell. “Okay.”

“Identify which bundle of these wires belongs to the battery, ignition, and starter. You’ll set this cap thing aside, cut off about two centimeters of the wire insulation, twist the battery wires together, and connect the ignition wire to that. After that, the dangerous part starts. You strip the starter wire, touch the live wire to the other ones, then rev the engine. That part's pretty easy as long as you don’t kill yourself.”

“Sure, and you're… experienced, right? If you die, I’m absolutely screwed.” The worry in his voice was evident.

“I’ll be fine. Just let me focus now…”

With nimble, careful, practiced motions, Risotto did just as he said after using his Stand to summon a pair of wire cutters. After only a minute or two, the center console lights came on, which sparked some hope in Prosciutto. He could hear Risotto take a few deep breaths as he stripped the last wire, psyching himself up for the task.

“Here goes…”

Prosciutto closed his eyes, not wanting to see his only friend in the world shock himself to death in case this all went wrong. After hearing a fizzling pop, the sound that followed was that of the engine revving and purring. Risotto laughed a bit with both a hint of pride and relief in his voice.

“Look at that… Easy as hell,” he said. “Now hop in, Caruso. We’re going home.”

Prosciutto let a nervous but pleased laugh roll off his tongue, walking to the other side of the car and opening the door that Risotto had to manually unlock. Once the both of them shut their doors, Risotto nulled the effects of Metallica, and finally, they were visible. Prosciutto looked at his friend, a grateful expression on his face.

“I’m really thankful for your street smarts…” he admitted, relaxing a bit.

“Unexpected benefits of being a delinquent brat all my life…” he said. “Now, let’s go.” He put the car into drive before pulling out of the alley.

“We should probably stop by a drug store before we go home.”

“Why?”

“To get bandages for your face and arm… And some kind of burn gel for your fingers. How about just… general first-aid.”

“Oh, right, that… I guess I could sneak into a store and get some.”

“I understand now what you meant earlier when you said you had a ‘trick up your sleeve’ when stealing.”

“Yeah. Pretty useful, huh?”

“You said it was called a Stand, right? How did I get one? Does everyone have one?”

“No. Not everyone. Do you remember Polpo’s test?”

“The one with the lighter?”

“Yes. When the lighter went out, you felt a really sudden sharp pain, right?”

“Wait…” His eyes widened in realization. “I did! So, you’re saying…”

“Yeah. You got pierced with something they call a ‘Stand arrow’ . It like… awakens something in your soul, brings out a sort of ghost that reflects a part of you. They usually have some kind of ability… I suppose the stress of the fight activated your dormant Stand.”

“Hm… Odd. And mine is some…”

“Weird creature,” Risotto teased.

“Yeah! Why does it look like that?”

“I don't know… Mine looks like little screaming blob things… What are you going to name yours?”

“Name it? Oh, uh…” He thought for a moment, back to the moment it appeared. He expected his head to be beaten in, but that beast saved him. And he was extremely grateful once his attackers were dead… Wait… That reminded him… “The Grateful Dead.”

Risotto raided his tattered brow, blood caked to his skin. “Like the band? I mean, I usually like harder stuff but it’s not bad.”

“Yeah, I guess so… I mean, yours is named Metallica, so…”

“Because it’s the greatest band of all time.”

“It’s pretty good…” He shrugged.

“If we get more teammates, we should convince them to name theirs after music too. I think that would be metal.”

“Sure!”

“For now, though, we’ll just focus on getting home and cleaning ourselves up.”

“And eating.”

“Yes, and eating.”

After all, the whole reason they went out was for food.

 

*

 

When the pair walked into their front door, the only thing Risotto had to say was, “Well, at least we got a free meal and car out of that.”

“Free? We almost died,” Prosciutto protested, limping to the kitchen and setting the groceries on the counter.

Risotto shut and locked the door before pausing and watching him. “What the hell happened to your leg?”

“I…” he winced. “Got hit in the knee with a tire iron.”

He sighed and gestured to the lone folding chair in the room. “Sit down. Let me see.”

He did as he was told, nearly dragging his leg along as he walked. Once he sat down, Risotto carefully rolled up his pants leg to get a good look. The skin was swollen and broken, and it looked like it could be potentially fractured. When Prosciutto saw it, he bit his lower lip to keep from saying something childishly whiny.

“Might be a little fracture, but you can still move it, so you’ll be fine. Just be easy on it,” the man instructed, standing up again.

“Alright…” the boy agreed. “Food or first-aid and a shower first?”

Risotto pondered for a moment. “Get the hard part over with… First-aid and a shower. You go first, I’ll be fine. I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes.”

He studied the mafioso before him for a moment, taking in all of the thick red that caked up on his body and clothes. Combined with his red irises, backed by black sclerae, and the injuries on his face, he looked like a demon out of a cheesy horror movie.

“You look insane right now…” Prosciutto began. “All that blood.”

Risotto chucked. “I know, right? Pretty metal, huh? It makes me feel alive.”

He nodded, trying to stand up but his knee was sabotaging him. The expression of effort on his face upset the wound on his head and he pressed his hand to it. “Damn… If it weren’t for you, I wouldn't be alive…”

“Yeah, yeah, get up,” Risotto rumbled, trying to hide his worry. He pulled him to his feet. “I’ll get you some clothes and a towel.”

The brooding man helped his partner up the stairs before rummaging through the cardboard box he kept his clothes in. He retrieved a faded, gray long sleeve shirt with minor holes in it and a pair of black basketball shorts. After that, he led Prosciutto back to the hallway bathroom, grabbing a towel out of the linen closet.

“Take these,” he said. “I’ll make us a sandwich or something while you’re in there.”

“Thanks… I’ll be back.”

 

*

 

After the two had taken their turns showering and eating, they were left less soiled and hungry, but just as injured. Risotto had no idea how to perform first-aid or use all of these fancy bandages Prosciutto requested, so he got frustrated quite quickly trying to tend to his face by himself in front of the bathroom mirror. 

He had traded his blood-soaked attire for a white tank top and the same lounge pants from earlier. His makeup was wiped clean, his face bare except for the painful holes in his skin. The cartilage between his nostrils was ripped open and he could barely stand to think of what kind of ugly scar it would leave. Not to mention his lips were quite maimed. It hurt just to talk.

He brushed his stringy, wet, silvery hair out of his eyes before ruining another bandage as it got stuck to itself. “Ugh, come on…”

Prosciutto stuck his head in and assessed the situation before laughing a bit. His borrowed clothes were oversized on him and his blond hair was frizzy as it air-dried. “Do you need help?”

He looked up at the boy, resisting the urge to insult him for no real reason, just due to his own fatigue. “I can’t really feel much with my fingers… I keep losing grip on the bandages.”

He wore an empathetic countenance, carefully limping towards him. “Did you already disinfect everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright…” He unpackaged a fresh bandage and looked up at the tall man, squinting. “Maybe sit down.”

He relented, though he wanted to complain, sitting down on the closed toilet lid. “Fine…”

Prosciutto began to carefully place butterfly stitches on his facial wounds, ignoring how much Risotto hissed in pain. He also quickly bandaged the wound on his arm while he was there, with gauze and medical tape. Before long, he was done and looked over his handiwork with a proud gleam in his eyes.

“There you go…” he said in a soft voice. “We’ll change them tomorrow.”

“I’ll probably never be able to grow hair on that part of my eyebrow again…”

“Probably not, but… That’s alright. You survived, and you showed me what kind of fire a true mafioso fights with.”

He wore a sour face. “Don't get all mushy like that…” 

“Fine, I won’t.”

“Let’s go to bed. I’m tired.”

He agreed and made his way out of the bathroom, Risotto following close behind. They already knew they'd be sharing a bed until Prosciutto could get his own, but it was a full-size mattress, so they'd be relatively comfortable.

The two laid down beside each other, staring up at the ceiling and getting snug under the bedding. It was a really chilly autumn night, and they could already feel the lack of A/C or heating affecting them. Usually, both of them would be hesitant to sleep this close to someone, but, aside from the lack of choice, they bonded over the crucible of blood today. They were made closer by having to depend on one another, and even after only one day, they were sure they’d become inseparable.

Prosciutto eventually laid on his side, looking at some of the holes in the walls before letting out a defeated breath and clenching his jaw. “My head hurts…” he whispered.

“Probably a little concussion. You’ll be fine,” Risotto answered.

“Do you think this life will ever get easier or will we be stuck in shitty situations like this forever?”

He thought for a moment before sighing heavily and closing his weighted eyes. “I don't have the answer to that right now… I don’t know if I ever will.”

“Yeah… Sorry. I know you’re tired.”

“I am… But you don't have to apologize.”

“Really?”

“Mhm… I’ve been alone for a long time. It's nice to have someone else to listen to besides myself.”

He smiled a bit. “You’re a lot softer when you’re sleepy.”

“Shut up… Don’t make me regret saying that.”

“Okay, sorry.”

“Are you any good at cooking?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I’d say it’s a skill of mine. You don’t get by this long taking care of three younger siblings not knowing how to cook.”

“Could you, maybe… cook breakfast tomorrow? Y’know, if you’re feeling up to it…”

“Claro que sí. I can definitely do that,” he said with a color of amusement in his voice. “I don't mind. Sería un placer para mí."

“Bonu… Now get some sleep.”

The two closed their eyes, trying to drift off, but the cold air mixed with the draft from the old window above their head made the tips of their noses cold, as well as whatever other skin was exposed outside of the comforter.

“Damn… Colder than usual tonight…” Risotto mumbled, annoyed by how much this was taking away from his tough-guy persona. 

“Y–yeah…” Prosciutto stammered with chattering teeth. 

“Woah, you’re that cold?”

“I–I react to the cold easily… Always have.”

Risotto sighed before wrapping his arms around him, pulling the duvet over them tighter. This was certainly making Risotto seem softer than he wanted to be perceived as, but what could be done? The boy needed to stay warm, and honestly… It just felt nice to have a friend. Prosciutto eventually stopped shaking and kept his head tucked against his leader’s chest, finally at a perfect resting temperature. He had never been held at night before, not even by his parents. It felt… good. Soothing. He almost mourned all the times he never got to experience this.

“If you mention this in the morning I will kill you,” Risotto warned in a hushed tone.

“Fine, fine… I won’t.”

He knew what that man was capable of now. He did not want to be next…

 

*

 

The two awoke in the early afternoon as the sunlight from their curtainless window baked down on them. They were aching and bruised from the previous battle and extremely exhausted, but there was a whole day ahead of them, so they got up anyway. Prosciutto’s knee was wrecked, so he was left stiffly hobbling around, and Risotto couldn't stand the sight of his own face. 

When they made their way downstairs, conversing as they turned the corner into the living room, they stopped in their tracks. Risotto stepped in front of his friend and summoned a knife, eyes wide and fixed on the shocking sight in front of them. 

“Hey, guys,” a man greeted them in a playful voice.

He had tan skin, gray locs pulled into a sort of ponytail, green eyes, ear piercings, a nose ring and was wearing a rusty orange leather jacket with a green muscle tank top that read, “I’m Stupid”, and baggy, dark pants with chains. He also, curiously, was wearing many bracelets on his wrists, a trio of matching rubber ones reading, “Live, fuck, rock” . He was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, knees to his chest, a wide grin on his face. He looked as happy as could be.

“Who the hell are you?!” Risotto shouted, voice still hoarse from sleep.

“What are you doing in our house?!” Prosciutto added.

He shrugged and gestured around. “Lots of little cracks in the window frames. We should get that checked out, y’know.”

The two were much too groggy to react sharply, just staring back at the stranger with wide eyes, unsure of what to do.

“This place is really cozy. The lack of decor is nice. I like your lawn chair… You’ve got real taste,” he joked.

“Answer us!” Risotto pointed his knife at him. 

“Name’s Formaggio. I’m the newest member of La Squadra! Looks like I got in early.”

 

-- Chapter End --

🔪🔪🔪

Notes:

This is the goriest thing I've written in a while... Check out my Tumblr for my teenage La Squadra designs and other fun shenanigans (@theplayersau)! And YES, I DID have to research how to break into a car and hotwire it for this lmao

Chapter 32: Assassin Anecdotes: Dishes

Summary:

Living with lots of people can be tough, but even more so when someone refuses to do their own dishes...

Althaia's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

Since I haven’t gone on any missions yet and spend most of my time at home, I’ve taken it upon myself to do various chores and keep up with the house. I didn't mind doing my share, and it wasn’t like I found the work difficult… Well, not really…

Except for the dishes.

I hated doing dishes, I always have. However, if I cook, I always do them because it’s the right thing to do. For the most part, the others wash their own dishes too, save for if they're busy or forget. I don't mind washing the occasional sink-full of dishes, especially when Prosciutto helps. But recently, I’ve been running into a little problem…

Every time I empty out the sink, when I come back later, there’s a spare dish or two that suddenly appears there. Every. Single. Time. At first, I wrote it off as a coincidence, but after nearly five months of this nonsense, I was ready to call it a pattern.

I was also at the end of my rope with this particular issue. 

I had just finished cooking lunch and tidying the kitchen after, and decided to take a shower. Once I had come back into the kitchen in order to get a glass of water, I glanced at the sink. It’s no surprise that I found a plate, a bowl, a fork, a spoon, and one cup, per usual… But today I was extra tired from all the other chores I had done previously and this was the final straw. 

“Who left their dishes in the sink?!” I shouted, stepping out from the kitchen and standing before the others in the living room. Despite my short stature, my voice projected. My hands were on my hips and I was fuming. 

Formaggio wasn’t there since he was visiting home for the next week, so it definitely wasn't him. The men who were in the room– Prosciutto, Pesci, Illuso, Ghiaccio, and Melone –looked up at me with either confused or concerned expressions.

“What?” Illuso paused the TV and raised a brow at me.

“I washed all the dishes already, and when I come back, there’s more dishes in there!” I pointed to the kitchen, then at them. “Who did it?!”

The men shrugged and mumbled things along the lines of, “It wasn’t me.”  

“It seriously wasn't any of you guys? Really?! You’re going to lie to my face?! There are dishes in the sink and they didn't come out of nowhere!”

“You’re starting to sound like me right now,” Ghiaccio said. 

“I promise, la mia dea greca, none of us used any dishes after you left,” Melone explained. “And we certainly wouldn't leave them in the sink for you to clean, as if we thought of you as a maid.”

He set his things down and approached me with a calm, gentle expression, a cool energy about him. Maybe dealing with Ghiaccio’s anger for so long taught him how to be a good moderator when he put his mind to it.

“Then why are there dishes in the sink?” I asked, my voice still tense, though I was no longer yelling. 

“I wish I could answer that question for you, bella, but unfortunately, I cannot,” he replied before putting his hand on my shoulder and smiling. “However, I can be the bigger person and wash the dishes anyway.”

My frustration eased upon him saying that and the knot in my brows came loose. “Wait, really? You’d do that?”

“Of course! You do so much for us, after all. It’s the least I could do.” He stepped past me and into the kitchen, standing before the sink and turning on the water.

I took a deep breath, watching him for a moment before turning back to the others and speaking in a grave tone. “Alright, fine… You all are safe. For now. But I will find out who has been doing this. And when I do…”

I let my words hang in the air before marching back upstairs.

This will end. I’ll make sure of it.

*

The mysterious “dish drop off” usually happened once after lunch and once in the middle of the night. I know this because after the dinner-time-kitchen-deep-clean, and the sink is emptied, there are those same types of dishes waiting for me. So I decided on a plan while I was decompressing in my room…

I would clean the kitchen after dinner, per usual, and pretend to go to bed with everyone else. But I'd actually secretly sneak back downstairs and wait in the dark to see who goes into the kitchen. When I caught them, I would show them no mercy…

After dinner, I was standing over the sink, hands dripping with soap as I took a sponge to a dirty plate. I supposed my face looked more angry than usual, and I was so focused on my thoughts of catching the culprit that I didn't even notice I was alone anymore.

I felt a hand on my shoulder that broke me out of my internal rambling, and I stopped what I was doing. I looked to my side to see Prosciutto looking down at me with a sympathetic expression. I was a little confused as to what he was doing in here, though.

“Oh, hey, Pro…” I then went back to washing the plate I was holding.

“Hey, Althaia…” He wrapped his arms around me from behind and brushed my hair out of the way before pressing a soft kiss to my neck.

I melted into his touch, nearly dropping the plate before my mind finally came back to me. “Prosciutto… The others will see us.”

“They’re not around. It’s just the two of us.” He kissed my neck again.

I felt my cheek prickling up with blush and I closed my eyes for a moment, trying not to forget what I was doing. “What was that for?”

“Nothing, really… Except to let you know that everything you do for us is appreciated,” he said. “That and to tell you that I share your frustration. Even before you moved in, the same thing happened…”

“Really? Hm… Well, it can't be Formaggio, because he’s not here.”

“I never thought it was. He always does his own dishes.”

“Do you think it could’ve been Melone? What if he only washed the dishes earlier because he secretly felt bad for being called out?”

Prosciutto thought for a moment before shrugging. “I'm not sure… What I will say, though, is that I’m here to help.”

I smiled a bit. “Oh, are you now?”

He nodded before holding me tighter. “I am. I can finish the rest of the dishes and put them away. You’ve done enough.”

“I’m almost done. It’s alright, I’ve got it.” 

“Then I’ll put them away. I still want to help.”

“Do you want to help or do you want to have an excuse to spend time with me?” I teased.

I could hear him let out an amused huff before letting go. “I have many sides and so do my choices.”

“So… that’s a yes.” I giggled.

“Precisely.”

He retrieved a towel from the drawer next to the sink and began drying all of the dishes I had just washed. He was so… domestic. He was a good cook, impeccable at cleaning, did his chores, went grocery shopping with me, and acted in an almost nurturing fashion… It was nice. If I were a regular person who wanted regular things, I’d make him my husband. However…

We were still in an… awkward phase.

By the time all of the dishes were clean and put away, all that was left before me was Prosciutto. I smiled at him and he returned that smile, but past that, I was unsure of what to do… It seems he was too.

“I guess I’ll… go back upstairs,” I said.

“I… I’ll probably do the same… I suppose,” he agreed.

“Thank you for your help.”

He paused for a moment before nodding. “It’s no problem, I… I’m just glad to not be the only one doing things around the house anymore.”

Today was one of his days off, where he wasn't expected to go anywhere or do anything. That also meant it was one of the rare times he was wearing something other than a suit during the day. He was in a simple yellow t-shirt and, surprisingly, dark jeans. It was a nice look on him, though… And that, combined with the small low ponytail he had pulled his hair into, as opposed to the usual multiple neat, small knots, just made him look so relaxed and homey. I liked it a lot, more than I’d admit.

I suppose sometimes my mouth just moved for me, though.

“You’re pretty much husband material,” I blurted out. 

His expression dropped, his blue eyes searching my face for an answer. “What?”

It took me longer than I would have liked to finally realize what I said, but when I did, I felt the sting of embarrassment fill my nose and I covered my face. “I– that’s not– What I meant was… Well, y’know–”

“Did you just call me ‘husband material’?"

“No!” I squeezed my eyes tightly and cursed under my breath before opening them again and removing my hands from my face. “I mean… I did, but…”

Now I could see that he was blushing too, but I couldn’t tell if it was from flattery or shyness. “You’re… Why?”

I didn't want to explain myself at all. “I don't know!”

“You do know, else you wouldn't have said something like that.”

“No, it was just whatever, y’know? It meant nothing!”

“Althaia, out with it." 

“I–” I groaned in frustration. “You’re just really domestic, good around the house… You’re responsible, affectionate, dress well, you cook and clean… Isn’t that, like, what anyone would want in a husband?”

He looked away as he listened to me before gesturing to himself, clearly nervous. “So… you’re saying that you want me as a…?”

My eyes widened and I shook my head, my hands out in front of me. “Oh, no, no, no, not like that! I didn’t mean–” Oh, that would sound rude… “I mean, like, if for some reason you ever were mine I wouldn't complain, y’know? I’d be set for life, that’s all I’m saying.”

His brows raised in surprise and that caused me to further backtrack.

“Ugh, God!” I began, my stomach churning with shame for getting myself into this situation. “I mean more like, you’re going to make a girl really happy someday! Y'know?” I wore a strained, wide grin. “I’m not talking about myself. Pretend I never said anything about myself. I meant, like… All of this is hypothetical!”

I wasn’t expecting him to laugh, but he did. He placed his hands on my shoulders, as if to stop me from sputtering. Once I was paying attention to him again, he held my face in his hands.

“Calm down…” he said in his charming, snake-like voice. “You’re making this way weirder than it has to be. I get it, it was just an offhand compliment.”

I took a deep breath in order to calm down, nodding. “Right, right… That’s all.”

“For the record, I think you’d make a good wife…”

My heart stopped in my chest and I don't think I realized that I grabbed hold of his hands at that moment. “You’ve thought about it…?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn't. It's just in passing, though… A look into the future, I suppose. Wherever that takes you.”

“If you keep talking like that I’ll have to kiss you.”

“Why wait?”

He pulled me closer and I closed my eyes in preparation, but before we could even manage to kiss we heard steps coming down the stairs and we backed away from each other. He turned away and cleared his throat, drying the counters with the towel that he had laid over his shoulder. I just shook my head and left the room. 

Why did this always have to happen to us?

*

Everyone had gone to bed. The house was sleepy and quiet, and I put off taking my sleeping medicine just to stay up. I was sitting under the kitchen table in the dark, laying low and waiting to ambush whoever was guilty. I had made a little exit for myself between chairs so I could catch this son of a bitch as quickly as possible. Was this a little too intense for a few spare dishes here and there? Sure. But I would get my revenge…

I don't know for how long I waited, but I heard careful, quiet steps creaking down the stairs. It was time…

I couldn't see any details of their face or body, I just knew that they were moving in the dark towards the kitchen. I prepared myself to pounce, like a lioness stalking her prey, eyes squinted. As soon as the shadow stood near the sink, I leapt out from under the table with a growl, grappling them. The culprit tensed up under my touch before the lights turned on.

The person I had latched onto was Melone, and his teal eyes, now devoid of the cover of his mask, studied me with a hint of worry before smiling at me, his lilac hair falling against his cheek.

“Ah, cara, if you wanted to touch me, you didn’t have to wait in the dark, you know,” he joked. 

I blinked a few times before letting go of him. “I thought you were the person leaving dishes in the sink…”

He chuckled a bit. “No, no. I’d never ruin the work you put into making this place beautiful. I was raised with some manners, after all.”

This was yet another moment where it was hard to be mad at him. “Then what are you doing in the kitchen?”

He held up the glass in his hand. “I was thirsty, amore. ” He shrugged. “Well, in a different way than usual. I wanted water.”

I let out an odd laugh and nodded. “I see… Sorry for tackling you…”

He turned on the faucet and held his glass under it. “Oh, it’s no problem at all. I understand your frustration. I’m wishing you luck on your quest.”

“Thank you…” It was odd for him to be so… normal. “Have a good sleep, Mel.”

“You too, my dear. Try not to stay up all night.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head unexpectedly. 

He smelled good. Honestly, it was kinda nice. “I’ll try…”

He left the kitchen with his glass of water, and once I was sure that he was upstairs, I turned the light off again and crawled back under the table, resuming my wait.

*

It must have been forty-five minutes to an hour later, but the sounds of a door opening broke me out of my near sleepy state. Steady, slow footsteps. They weren’t coming from upstairs, no… They were already downstairs. Whoever this was had a long gait. I watched the large, lumbering blur of darkness move into the kitchen, and when I heard the clinking of dishes in the sink, I jumped out of my hiding spot, this time with more force. I wrapped my limbs around the wrongdoer and held on tight as they struggled.

It didn’t take whoever this was very long to whirl me around– strong arms encircling my waste –and slam me against the wall. I felt something cold and metallic against my throat. Their large hand pinned my wrists above my head in one go, and both of us were slightly panting. Their breath was warm against my lips, our noses brushing together.

“Belladonna?” A deep voice rumbled.

I gasped a little. “Risotto?”

The metal against my throat disappeared, but our faces were still close. “What the hell are you doing? Are you insane?”

“No, I’m not…” As I spoke, our lips brushed together, just barely. 

“It’s late. Why are you hiding out in the dark and attacking people?”

“I wasn’t. I had a purpose. I needed to catch you…”

“Catch me?”

“Yeah, and I did…” 

I couldn't see him right now, but I could feel him- his breath, his left hand squeezing my wrist, his right hand sliding against my waist. I didn't need to see him. All I needed was the sudden fire in my chest and anticipation pooling in my stomach.

“Is this some kind of strange game? Are you chasing excitement?” he asked, his forehead against mine. “Do we bore you?”

“No… I–” I swallowed thickly. “What are we doing right now?”

“I’m not… sure…” 

We continued like this for a moment, our top lips touching, almost a kiss, before he let go of me and pulled away. He turned on the light, and now I could see his flushed face and the scowl he was wearing. I looked at the dishes in the sink and I finally remembered why I was here.

I gritted my teeth and wrestled him again as he tried to shove me off. “The hell is your problem, Althaia?!”

“It’s you leaving dishes in my clean sink!” I clung to him, but he simply lifted me over his shoulders.

“What?”

“Put me down!”

He sighed and set me back down, piercing eyes staring daggers into me. “What is the problem?”

“I clean out the sink, I do all the dishes, and you come out of nowhere and put dirty dishes in there!”

He looked down, an uneasy frown on his face. “I–”

“No excuses!” I yanked on his hood, pulling his face down to my level. “You listen, and you listen good, Slipknot-wannabe! You will be an adult and wash your own dishes! Got it?”

“You think you’re the boss of me?” he scoffed.

“I am going to stand here and watch you do your dishes, and if you don’t, I'm gonna start putting all of your dirty dishes in your bed.”

His brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, bitch.”

His eyes widened before he broke out into a smile. “Are you serious?”

I couldn't stay too mad for long. I chuckled and nodded, letting him go. “Yeah, I am. Do your dishes.”

He sighed and turned on the faucet. “Fine…”

I wore an air of satisfaction as I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against the fridge. He could be so obedient, just like a loyal guard dog. “Good boy,” I uttered.

He froze before glancing back at me, his cheeks pink. “What did you just say…?”

“You heard me.”

“Stop comparing me to a dog.”

“Can’t. Sorry, Doll.”

He grumbled and continued washing the dishes. “I’m… not a ‘good boy’ ...” 

“Oh, right. You’re a ‘bad boy’, huh? ‘Cause you’re so edgy.”

“I’m not ‘edgy’. I’m… real.” He finished up and dried his hands. 

I smirked and pulled him closer by his hips, looking up at him. “Come on, you can be a good boy for me, right? I mean, you did just do what I told you to…”

He rolled his eyes, but he didn't fight off my touch. “You suck…”

“Can my good boy give me a goodnight kiss?” I was only joking. I expected nothing from him, I just wanted to see him squirm.

His lips twisted into a pout. “N–no…”

I rested my chin on his chest, batting my eyes at him. “Please, Doll.”

“Stop treating me like a pet…”

I sighed before letting go of him. “Fine, fine. You’re free to go. Have a good night, Risotto…”

He began to leave and I closed my eyes, letting the answer to this low-level mystery finally settle over me. Before I knew it, though, I felt his lips on my cheek. I jumped, my heart fluttering. I couldn't even speak up before I saw him retreating around the corner. 

All this for some damn dishes…

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

This is inspired by my bum ass family members (won't say who) that never wash their own dishes <3 So after I sit there for 30 mins washing a giant sink full of dishes, even more mysteriously make their way there <33 You people don't frustrate me at all <333 Not at all! ^_^

Chapter 33: Just Pretend

Summary:

When things go worse than planned, or when you're surrounded by cold-hearted killers, it's easier to just pretend that everything is like a fairytale.

 

Althaia's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

Feverish. Mind racing. Panting, panting. Yelling, fighting, I grab her by the arm. She turns around. I raise my ice skate.

Squelching.

Warm, red river… flowing, flowing, flowing… She drops to her knees. I'm left covered in the color. I scream. I scream horribly. My throat is raw.

I see it every time I close my eyes, like it’s been burned into the backs of my eyelids.

I shot up out of bed, panic constricting my lungs. I looked around my small room. Everything was as it usually was… My twin bed in the corner, the dresser at the foot of the bed, a small vanity parallel with it, a small closet with a mirror on the door. I had been here long enough to say it felt like home.

I rubbed my face. It felt hot to the touch. My hair was messy but I didn't care, I had no reason to. When I blinked I could still remember the remnants of my dream and it stung my chest. I had occasional nightmares about that day…

The day I took an innocent life.

My breathing had calmed down but an uncomfortable sensation of dread loomed over my shoulder with a pressuring grip, and bitter regret festered in the back of my throat like bile. The room wasn’t too dark thanks to the moonlight coming in through the curtains but it did feel too lonely…

I didn’t want to be alone right now.

I slipped out of bed, pushing past my covers, and looked at my face in the vanity mirror, pressing my fingers to the subtle bags under my eyes. I didn't like anyone ever seeing the results of my restless nights or tiredness. I’ve been taking sleeping medication nearly all my life, so when I woke up in the middle of the night like this, it left me woozy and confused.

This was one of those nights.

I didn't know exactly what I wanted, per se, I just know that I didn’t want to be alone right now. My mind felt like a sleepy maze riddled with bouts of inexplicable fear. I was too afraid to try to go back to sleep on my own. I don’t know what I was doing, all I know is that my body acted on autopilot and I opened my room door, stumbling out into the hallway.

The house felt emptier and scary at night. Usually I would hear Formaggio snoring by now but he was staying at his home for the next while, and– though I was the only one that knew this detail –visiting his wife. He had to come back to pick me up for an urgent mission in the morning, though. I glanced around at all the closed doors in front of me, almost mindlessly contemplating my next move. I needed someone, but who could I bother without them getting mad? I felt like a child who had gotten sick in the middle of the night and needed to tell their parents. 

Honestly, I… I really wanted Prosciutto. I don’t have an exact reason as to why but I wanted to be comforted and, to me, he oozed comfort. I would go to him, but… he shared a room with Pesci, and I didn't want to disturb either of them.

Actually, nearly everyone here shared a room with someone– Illuso shared with Formaggio, Melone shared with Ghiaccio, and Prosciutto shared with Pesci. The only people who didn't share a room with someone were me and Risotto. Prosciutto gave up his room for me when I moved in, and I didn't even know until recently… 

Wait, that gave me an idea…

But would he be angry with me?

Oh, well… I wasn't even thinking straight. Again, my body acted without direction and I shuffled towards the door closest to me, on my right. My hand grazed the doorknob and without much effort I pushed the door open. Inside was what I expected: dark decor, vanity ahead of me, dresser next to me, and double doors to a closet on the wall. When I looked towards the large bed, fitted with a mahogany frame, I saw a sleeping mass under the dark covers. It gently rose and fell silently, not reacting to my presence at all.

It was Risotto.

I quietly approached the side of the bed he was sleeping on, steps ginger and light. When I stood beside him, all I could see was his unruly silver hair just above the edge of the blanket. He looked so peaceful… I knew he didn't get sleep very often, so I felt guilty for what I was about to do, but the combination of medication and nightmares was clouding my judgement.

I thought I would have had to shake him, but when I placed my hand on his shoulder, I felt him startle awake. Before I could even think to react, the edge of a knife was against my throat. I held my breath, paralyzed for a moment as my eyes found his, staring up at me from the cover of the bedding. He was half-awake but glaring at me, running on instinct, but when he realized it was me at the end of his blade, his grip weakened. The knife quickly disappeared and he sat up now, his brows scrunched in confusion.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, his low rumble almost piercing in the silence of nightfall.

I looked down, a bit dazed. It was harder to get my brain to work than I wanted it to be. “Uh… I–I dunno…” I was afraid that he’d think my reason for waking him up was stupid and childish. I didn't want to say it out loud.

He made a face at me before grumbling, “Out with it. You know I don’t like it when people beat around the bush.”

I held my head for a moment, trying to think past the fog. “It’s hard to remember… I think I woke up because I had a nightmare. Then I left my room, and now I’m here.”

He raised his scarred-over brow before swiping his bangs out of his face a bit. “You… woke me up because you, a grown woman, had a nightmare?”

“Yeah…” I averted my gaze, a sense of shame filling my nose. “It was about that day, y’know? When I…”

I guess he finally understood because he nodded. “Oh, I see. The day you became a murderer.”

“Don't say it like that…”

“But it’s the truth, right? That’s why you have nightmares about it. Because you think of it that way.”

It was hard to see his point in my current state but I decided just to concede. “I guess so…”

He sighed heavily, looking away. “And now it’s my problem? You know I don’t sleep very much at night. Yet you wake me up anyway.” 

“I’m sorry… I’ll go. I just…”

“Amalthea, why are you crying?”

“What?”

“There are tears in your eyes.”

I stared at him for a moment in confusion before running my fingertips over my eye and feeling fresh tears free themselves from my lashes. I didn't even realize I was doing that… “I–I don't know…”

I think he eventually realized I was medicated and out of it, because his grumpy expression changed to a more sympathetic one. He took a deep breath before sliding over and patting the spot where he was once sitting. “Come here.”

I didn't know why he suddenly had a change of heart, but I did as he said and got into bed next to him. After I had settled into my place, he gently moved some of my hair off of my shoulder before patting my head. 

“You’re probably having nightmares because you refuse to confront what happened during the day. Your mind is forced to subconsciously process those emotions and trauma at night. If you made a conscious effort to allow yourself time to sit with that discomfort and analyze it, it might do you some good,” he explained.

When you caught him in the right mood or pushed the right buttons, his therapist side would come out. That version of Risotto was caring and helpful. The other side of him reminded me of a grumpy old man.

I tried to understand his words as best as I could before nodding. “Right, okay… I can see that. But I don’t wanna focus on it right now.”

“That’s fine. What do you want to do, then?” he asked.

“I wanna go back to sleep. But not by myself.”

He was silent for a moment before speaking up again. “I think I have a solution.”

“What?”

When I turned to look back at him he was laying down again, staring up at me with a soft expression. I hadn't seen him look this calm and relaxed before. “Come on.” He had his arms sort of held open for me.

Normally I would have asked if he was right in the head, being so nice to me, but right now I was too desperate for someone. I laid down in his arms, my head on his chest. I don’t think I realized until now that he was shirtless, but I honestly didn’t care. His skin was warm and smooth on my cheek, and there was enough cushion there for me to comfortably close my eyes and rest.

“You’re not the only one who gets nightmares, you know…” he mentioned, the bass of his voice reverberating in my head.

“Really?”

“We all do. No one is immune to basic human conditions. We might be contract killers but we still have a conscience.”

“Mhm…"

“Despite how grouchy I come off, I still remember what it was like to be new to this life… And how your first kill affects your mind. I understand what toll it takes. So…” He mulled over his words. “If you ever need to talk about it, I’m… I’m here, I guess… Preferably during the day when you're already bothering me anyway.”

I wish I could have offered him a more grateful reaction but I was being lulled to sleep by his voice. This would be the second time I fell asleep on him. “Mhm… Okay.”

“And, Amalthea?”

“Yeah?” 

“I actually don’t mind being needed… If you want my help for some reason, just say so.”

I draped my arm over his waist and he wrapped his arms around me after I squeezed him a bit. “Thank you…”

I liked that he called me by my real name.

I certainly wasn't expecting him to bury his nose in my hair and press a kiss to the top of my head, but he did that. A sudden rush of warmth and contentedness flooded my senses and began to wash away all of those nasty thoughts from before. He also covered us with the comforter and the setting became very domestic and intimate. I had never slept this close to someone before, not really, anyway… 

“Goodnight, Doctor,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, puppy-boy,” I mumbled, not of sound mind.

I felt him tense up. “What did you just call me?”

“I don't remember…”

“You said ‘puppy-boy’. Why?”

“'Cause you’re like… big, scary doggy… but sweet. So… puppy.” I was dozing off by this point. “And I like your face, I think you’re cute. And you’re not mean. You’re nice.”

He groaned in frustration. “Enough. Shut up. Don’t call me that.”

I barely registered a word he said. I just muttered an absentminded farewell, on the verge of passing out. “Okay, ‘night, love you…”

The room was filled with a stunned, tense silence for a moment as I started to succumb to sleep, and the last thing I remember hearing before that was a deep voice uttering…

“Love you too.”

*

The next morning was a big day for me! Maybe that’s why I had such a stressful night… Perhaps it was my nerves. 

I slowly opened my eyes to see light pouring in through my window, casting a square pool of sun on the floor. Huh? Wait, I was in my room. I fell asleep in Risotto’s room! How did I…?

I sat up quickly, looking around. Yep, this was definitely my room. I jumped out of bed and didn't even bother to put on my usual house coat, just wearing a cropped tank top and fuzzy shorts. I barreled down the stairs, my long hair like a cape behind me. I saw the usual crowd in the living room– Illuso, Prosciutto, Pesci, Melone, and Ghiaccio. Formaggio would be here but… Wait!

“Where’s Formaggio?” I asked, slightly breathless and frazzled.

“He’s on his way,” Prosciutto answered.

“Wasn't he supposed to spend more time at home than this?” Melone was still in his sleep clothes, curled up on the couch with his laptop.

“Yes, but he got called in for an emergency mission.” Prosciutto stood up with an empty bowl in his hand, headed toward the kitchen with Pesci in tow, as always.

“Insanity. He got an urgent mission?” Illuso scoffed. “Would have been better off giving it to one of us.”

“At least he’ll stop whining for a while about how we 'disrespect’ him,” Ghiaccio chimed in. 

I never understood why they talked about him like this. It got worse when he wasn't in the room… To my knowledge, he never did anything to deserve it, so what was the problem?

“Do you guys not like him or something?” I crossed my arms over my chest, staring all of them down. I expected answers.

They, however, didn't disappoint.

“We don’t dislike him,” Illuso began, the first to speak up. “He’s just…”

“Annoying,” Ghiaccio finished for him.

“With his singing, and the incessant joking around.” Melone closed his laptop.

“He brings in the least revenue out of all of us on assignments because his Stand has very few scenarios where it's advantageous without causing a mess,” Prosciutto explained more thoroughly.

“Last time he was allowed to do whatever he wanted, he fed some guy a car and it…” Pesci shivered. “It exploded inside of him and crushed the guy’s date too.”

My eyes widened. Sometimes I forgot these guys were cold-blooded killers and did really fucked up shit… “Ew…”

“Plus he clings to the 'founding three’ title like it means much of anything anymore,” Illuso added.

“Inferiority complex.” Risotto walked into the room. I assume he came from his office. I’d deal with him later.

“Well, it’s no wonder he feels inferior if you guys treat him that way,” I said, getting a bit defensive on his behalf.

“Does he have to be so annoying about it, though?” Melone muttered.

My eye twitched a little and I felt my more nitpicky side coming out. “Newsflash: all of you are annoying. In your own ways. Everyone is. It's called being human and living in a tiny house with eight people!”

They were all silent for a moment before protesting in their own ways, causing a racket of separate complaints. 

“And yeah, I know I’m annoying too! Risotto makes sure to tell me all the time.” I tapped my foot impatiently on the ground.

“Yeah, I do,” he confirmed from the kitchen.

I gestured that way. “See?”

“Wait, how am I annoying?” Illuso wore his usual sour expression.

“We don't have time for this, alright? I need to get ready for our mission,” I said, dismissing him.

Prosciutto looked a little confused and hurt but he hid it well. I know he was probably mentally scrambling, trying to find out what I could possibly find annoying about him.

The men bickered amongst themselves, trying to point out each other’s flaws while I walked back upstairs in order to get dressed. Maybe that’d keep them off of Formaggio’s back for a while…

It probably sucked being the butt of everyone’s jokes all the time.

*

I was told to dress nicely for this mission, for some reason, so I dressed in the best clothing I had. I was wearing a short, shimmery, emerald green bodycon dress with flowy off-the-shoulder sleeves, dark skin tight arm warmers, forest green pumps, skin-colored tights, my usual dark choker, a gold necklace, and matching bracelets. I had switched the contents of my usual hip pack into a fancy black purse. Flawless as ever, my makeup was done up and I braided my long hair back into a large single braid this time. When I stepped back into the living room, I realized Formaggio wasn't even back yet. The thick, taut air of annoyance was broken by my appearance, and the guys all looked up at me with varying expressions. 

Melone’s tongue nearly hung out of his mouth like a dog before he schooled his expression and took to silently praying… I still don’t exactly know what his deal was. Ghiaccio blinked a few times before shrugging and turning back to the random magnets he was fiddling with. Illuso studied my outfit before rolling his eyes, seemingly jealous. Pesci fidgeted nervously, averting his gaze with a rosy-tinted face. Prosciutto was trying his absolute hardest not to smile, so much so that I was worried for him. And finally, when Risotto glanced up from his phone at his spot at the table, he nearly choked on his breakfast.

“So, guys,” I said, “what do we think?” I gestured to my dress, doing a playful little spin.

“It’s nice… I don’t like when people look nicer than me,” Illuso answered.

“Definitely fancy!” Pesci tittered nervously.

Melone jumped up and got down on his knees before me, gingerly holding my hand in his. I made a bit of a face, confused, glancing away. “What, uh… are you doing there, friend?”

“La mia dea greca, you are gorgeous, ethereal, elegant, fabulous… How we’re allowed to breathe the same air as you is a mystery to me. I would kiss the ground you wa–”

He was cut off when Ghiaccio yanked him away. “Get a grip, loser…”

I shook off the weird moment before looking at Prosciutto. “You’re the best dressed out of all of us. What’s your consensus?”

“I’m… struggling to find the words…” He smiled weakly, unable to take his eyes off of me. “You… It’s a beautiful dress. And you… Well, what can I even say? I can't describe it…”

Illuso sneered before lightly punching him. “You've got the hots for her, huh?”

He turned red in a matter of seconds. “What?”

“Yeah, you’re totally into her!” he continued.

“N–no, it’s not… I’m not– it’s not like that!” he stammered. “I don’t like her!”

I held my hand to my chest. “You don't like me?”

He stood up, holding his hands out in front of him. “No, no! No, I–I like you! As a person… I do! Just… Well– Not like that!”

Melone was laughing his ass off at this point. “You are not smooth at all! You can hardly speak!”

“That’s embarrassing,” Ghiaccio mumbled, busy playing with his magnets. 

“Why are you acting so scared, Big Bro? Is Illuso right?” Pesci asked, looking up at Prosciutto.

“Go easy on him,” Risotto said from the table, always looking out for his little buddy. “He misspoke is all, and Illuso caught him off guard.”

“Right! Exactly what he said! I…” Prosciutto examined my expression, how hurt and confused I looked. He sighed and approached me. “I’m sorry, Althaia. I… I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“What’s gotten into you is that you’re in love!" Illuso waggled his finger at him. 

Prosciutto gritted his teeth before marching towards him, grabbing him by the collar, and speaking in a low voice. “Don’t forget that I saw everything between you and a certain someone. Do not make me regret holding my tongue, understand?”

Illuso’s eyes widened before he gestured in defeat and nodded. “Right. Got it…”

Something about when Prosciutto got all serious fired me up. Mm! Damn, he was hot! Anyway…

Prosciutto now turned back to me, an awkward expression on his face as he let out a nervous breath. “What I was trying to say back there is that you look lovely. Perfect for the mission… You’ll do just fine. I have faith in you.”

I smiled a little. “Really? Thank you, that’s sweet…”

“Of course. Just follow Formaggio’s lead and observe as much as you can. This is a routine hit. Everything should go just as planned, and it’ll be over quickly.”

“I will… I’ll try to do you guys proud.”

He gestured to me with open arms. “Come here.”

I gladly accepted his invitation for a hug, closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around him, my chin on his shoulder. “You’re getting all sentimental…”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just want to show my support. It reminds me of my first mission.” He held me gently, rubbing a small circle on my back.

When I opened my eyes, I could see Illuso, Melone, and Ghiaccio silently making fun of us and I swatted my hand, telling them to cut it out. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home, okay?”

“Good.” He pulled away, looking into my eyes before speaking again. “Your perfume is divine. What is it?”

“Oh! J’adore. It’s new!”

“I really like it. It seems perfect for you.”

“Aww, you’re sweet!”

Our little moment was interrupted when Formaggio finally got in the door. He was wearing a wide, chipper smile, holding a bag of, based on the smell, food in his hand. He looked over at me, a confident air about him, wearing what appeared to be his finest suit. It was weird seeing him so cleaned up…

“Hey, Green! G’mornin’! Ya ready for your first ever mission?” He greeted me cheerfully. “You look great!”

I nodded. “Yep! Let’s go!”

He looked around the room. “Why is it, like… weird in here right now?”

Prosciutto grumbled while the others laughed, and I shrugged. “Who cares! Let’s go!”

He turned right around and we left out the front door. He had his own car, which was good, because I really didn't feel like taking a bus or train wearing all of this.

I wouldn't lie, I was starting to feel my anxiety rise the closer the mission got, but Formaggio seemed not to mind at all. As he pulled off of our street and onto a main road, he glanced at me, grinning a bit.

“So, how're ya feelin’? Ya nervous?” he teased. 

I sighed and shrugged. “First-day jitters, heh… Nothing I can’t get over.”

“Would some food make it any better?”

“Oh… Maybe! I kinda forgot to eat.”

“Well, ya can’t work on an empty stomach, Green. Help yourself.” He gestured to the bag of food sitting in the center console.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah! Slept in a lil’ bit, too busy cuddlin’ my wifey.” He laughed a tad. “I had to grab some food on the way so I wasn't late.”

I picked up the bag and inspected it. It just looked like simple zeppoles . It wouldn’t hurt! I picked one up and took a bite. It was pretty good, but I know I could do better. “How is she?”

“Oh, Alex? She’s fine! Bullyin’ me per usual, but she does it ‘cause she loves me,” he joked. 

“She’s kinda rough around the edges?”

“Yeah, yeah… But she’s so strong. And fierce. Tough as nails, too.” His eyes looked distant in a dreamy manner. “She’s had a rough go of it lately but she’s doin’ okay.”

“I’d love to meet her one day…”

“Ya probably will soon.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah… Just somethin’ I gotta talk to Ris about.”

I thought for a moment, nodding and taking another bite of food. “So, what was your first mission like?”

He let out an amused breath, shaking his head. “Damn… What wasn’t it? We were all learnin' to work together. Prosciutto had only just activated his Stand back then, and I was still learnin' how to apply mine… We caused a lotta trouble, but we’re still here.” 

“Hm… So, do you think I’ll mess this up?”

“Nah, you’ll be fine. And besides, even if it does go wrong, just blame it on me!”

I raised a brow, studying him. Why would he say that…? “If it’s my fault, why would I blame you?”

“‘Cause, you're new. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone needs someone to fall back on. And until ya get it right, I don't mind takin’ the fall.”

“But… that would affect your numbers. I won't do that to you! Plus everyone would be mad at you…”

He shrugged, his expression hardening a bit. “They'll blame me anyway. I’ve stopped fightin’ it. I’ve accepted my place in the group. I’m the ‘fuck up’... According to them, anyway.”

My heart ached for him… How sad that life was… I don’t think I’d be able to handle being a constant disappointment. “How do you deal with that? Everyone always believing you failed their expectations?”

“It… It used to really hurt, y’know? I used to get real mad 'bout it, but it can’t be helped. I just try to meet my own expectations, right? If ya depend too much on what everyone else thinks, you'll never be happy. You’ll always be chasin’ somethin' unattainable. 'Cause you’ll never get everyone’s approval. Ya gotta live for yourself, kid.”

My eyes widened as I listened to him, a small spark lit in my chest. I had never heard someone describe my worst fear in such a nonchalant way. He seemed… fine with it… How could I be that resilient? How could I be like him?

“But if I don't make everyone happy, then what purpose do I have…?” I asked.

He glanced at me with his green eyes before his expression softened. “Your purpose is to try to figure out what makes you happy outside of makin’ everyone else happy… God, it’s just life, Green. Don't take it so seriously. We’re only here for so long. And our lives are shorter than others’...”

It was like his words were a salve to my exact insecurities. How he, the goofiest man I had ever met, managed to get this wise baffled me, but… Here he was, telling me what I needed to know… I digested his words and tried to really internalize them.

“What, in your life, makes everything easier?” I added quietly.

It seemed so simple for him to smile. No matter if he had a bad day, he’d always find a reason to, and I admired that so much. He even smiled at me now.

“That I’m still alive. I can still enjoy good food and music, I can still get drunk and watch a game, I can still spend time with people I love. I have a car, I have a beautiful, badass wife, I have a cat, I have a roof over my head. It’s more than I ever thought I’d get on my own when I was a teenager… I’ve grown and changed, I like who I am now. Every day there’s another reason for me to laugh, and that's all I can ask for.” He happily drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. 

As I listened to him, I realized I had never heard something more pure or simple… And in how simple it was, it was beautiful. I probably seemed like such an idiot when I teared up at his words. I tried to hide it, though. “That’s… really nice, Formaggio. I want to have that one day– that kind of light in my heart.”

“Ya will… It’s a lot of hard work but you’ll know when you get there. You’ll know ‘cause when you look back at all the hard times in your life, you’ll realize ya don't feel that way anymore,” he said. When he glanced at me from the road, he chuckled softly. “Damn, didn’t know you were easy to cry like that. Guess I shoulda watched my words!”

I wiped my eyes carefully to avoid smudging my makeup. “I–it’s not that, just… I dunno, that was really sweet and inspiring. I–” I sighed. “I had a bad sleep last night, sorry.” 

“Hey, ya don't gotta apologize to me, Green. I’m not judgin’. It’s normal to cry, even if you’re a mafiosa. ” 

“I’m afraid I’m not tough enough for this job…”

“None of us started out 'tough enough’ . Prosciutto was just a moony-eyed, hope-filled little kid when he joined, convinced that this job wouldn't ruin his ability to enjoy things…”

It was hard to imagine the serious, business-like, uptight guy I knew as anything but that, but it was… almost adorable. I would have liked to give little him a hug. “Really? There’s no way…”

“Yep. And I’d know. I was there. I joined only the day after he did! Back when the only furniture we had was a lawn chair…” He sighed wistfully. “Good times.”

“I wish I could have been a fly on the wall back then, just to see what it was like… Y’know, for curiosity’s sake.”

“Oh, trust me, it wasn’t glamorous. If ya think the arguments we get into now are petty, you should have seen ‘em back then.”

I giggled a bit and leaned back, relaxing. “So, this mission… What should I expect?”

“Well, I’m gonna slip a few tasty little pills into our target’s drink, make sure he drinks it, then we can head out.”

“Pills?” I turned my head. “Of what kind?”

“Ah, nothing you’d be allowed to prescribe, Doctor. It’s a bit of a cocktail, straight from some of the best ‘chemists' in Passione. ”

“Hm… So… no cars, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, ya heard? That was a bad moment. I just wanted to have some fun!”

“I can’t understand how killing someone is fun…” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Well, depends on the person, I guess, but it can be thrilling at least, y’know?”

“But, taking lives… It’s an awful prospect…”

“Welcome to our life, kid. I need ya to keep your cool in here, alright?”

I nodded, trying to swallow my discomfort. “Fine, I guess…”

*

We were now sitting in a restaurant, a fancy one, at a table to ourselves. We didn't plan on staying, so we only ordered drinks. Formaggio’s eyes occasionally made their way to a middle-aged guy a few tables down from us, so I figured that was our target. I patted his shoulder a bit with the back of my hand before murmuring to him.

“Is that our guy over there?”

“Yep… In a few minutes, I’m gonna head towards the bathroom, drop the pills in his drink, hide in the bathroom for a minute, come back, wait for him to finish it, then we can go,” he explained. 

I nodded. “Sounds good… I feel like this nice outfit was kinda a waste, though.”

“Nah, it’s not a waste if ya had fun dressin’ up, right?”

“I guess so… Besides, Prosciutto seemed to really like it.”

“‘Course he did. He loves anything fancy.” He then smirked. “Plus I think he’s got a thing for you.”

Was it that obvious? Ugh… “So what if he does?”

He nudged me playfully. “You should totally go for it! Y’know, if that's something you wanted…”

“I–I don't know what I want…” I said, tapping my finger on the table. “I’ve never exactly had a real relationship before, I’ve only known him for, like, five months, and I don't want to ruin our working relationship if we ever, like, broke up or something… Besides, I don't even know if I want romance, y'know?”

He shrugged. “Ah, I get that. On one hand, the only thing y'know ya want is to always be friends with him. On the other hand, you’ll never know until you try. It could be the start some somethin’ good.”

“I’d take love advice from you rather than anyone else any day, considering you’ve managed to have a healthy marriage for this long.”

“Five years and goin’ strong!”

“Right, so… Prosciutto and I have almost kissed like, a bunch of times. We hug a lot, we cuddle sometimes in private, we buy each other gifts, he gave me his hoodie, I kiss his neck a lot…” I got a little lost in my thoughts before I caught myself. “So… what is that?”

“Sounds like a relationship to me… Just, y’know, without sex or whatever.”

“Is sex, like… a requirement?”

“No, no… It’s not. I’ve never slept with my wife and we’re just fine.”

My eyes widened and my jaw hung open in shock. “Are you… asexual?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Me? No. Hell no. But Alex has… a past that makes her uncomfortable with physical intimacy. So, for her sake, I’ve learned to essentially ignore that. It’s gotten easier year by year. I hardly ever think about it anymore.” 

This was… entirely interesting. He lowered his own libido because he loved his wife so much… As a doctor, I was invested. “That’s… oddly really sweet.”

He shrugged. “Anything for my baby. It's honestly changed how I look at the world. Everything is so simple, y'know?”

“Do you ever worry that you… don’t have a good outlet?”

“I know myself. I’ve got it handled.”

“You don’t experience any negative side effects?”

“Don’t start goin’ all doctor mode on me.”

“Sorry… It’s just interesting…”

“Anyway, don’t worry so much about all that. Just talk to Prosciutto, know what ya want from each other, and take it slow. You’ll be fine.”

I nodded, staring down at my drink, watching the ice spin in the glass as I stirred it with my straw. “Sounds good…”

“I’m gonna get this show on the road.” He patted my back before standing up.

I watched him carefully, observing how slyly he went about this process. He walked past the target without a care in the world, and I could see his hand come up just as his hip neared the drink. I couldn't even see what fell out of his hand it was so small. He quickly played it off as him adjusting his collar, then proceeded to the bathroom. 

Smooth.

I watched as our target continued to sip on his drink. It only took Formaggio a minute or two of waiting to come back, sitting down and cracking his knuckles.

“Now we just wait,” he said.

I felt uneasy, watching a man kill himself right in front of me. I was a doctor, I was supposed to save lives. All of my instincts told me to stop the man from drinking any more and get him to a hospital.

But my hands were tied…

I think Formaggio could tell that I was having trouble with this whole thing from the look on my face. He began to hold my hand from under the table as we watched and let me squeeze his as I needed.

“You’ll be alright, Green. It’ll get easier with each mission,” he whispered to me.

I nodded, biting at the inside of my lip. “I hope so…”

Once the man was finished with his drink, we paid our check and left the restaurant, heading back towards his car. We didn’t get very far, though…

“Stop them!” a voice called out from behind us.

We turned around to see two men in suits chasing after us. What the fuck…?

Without questioning it, Formaggio took my hand and began running, and I tried to keep up best I could in my heels.

“What’s happening?!” I shouted, holding my hand to my chest. I was not wearing the right bra for this…

“I knew the guy was a politician but I didn’t think he'd have security!” Formaggio looked more worried than I had ever seen him. 

“Why are they coming after us?!”

“Probably ‘cause they saw me near the guy before he started dyin’!”

“It works that quickly?!”

“Yep! Best of the best, but not when there’s security around!”

“Formaggio! My heels! I can't run that fast!”

“Stop!” one of the security guards yelled. “We need to question you!”

We turned a corner, attempting to lose them in the back alleys of the city, but we just trapped ourselves in a dead end instead. We stood frozen like statues, unprepared and unsure of what to do. 

“Shit, shit, not good!” Formaggio was panting a bit, looking around for an exit as the guards caught up to us.

I grimaced in fear, taking a few steps back. “Please tell me your Stand is meant for combat, because mine isn’t…”

“Not really…” He turned to face the guards now, gesturing in defeat. “Hey, fellas, I know this looks bad but let’s not get too hasty, alright? We can talk this out, right? Let’s just all be friends!”

“Doesn't look like that’s gonna work…” I muttered, taking another step back. I felt a sudden sharp pain on the back of my leg but I didn't think much of it.

One of the guards lunged at us, trying to grab hold of me, and I dodged as quickly as I could, but I was a bit wobbly on my heels. Hey! That was an idea…

When Formaggio stepped in front of me in order to put himself in the line of fire, I quickly took off my heels. I threw one of them past the guard’s heads, and when they looked that way, a large piece of scrap metal flew into them as they crashed to the ground. 

Formaggio’s eyes widened and there I was still standing, but now, beside me, as my Stand– a feminine, humanoid figure made out of bundles of thorny vines –hovered beside me. A few vines slid across the ground, back towards it. I couldn't do much in terms of damage, but Rootless’ vines could pick things up, and that was enough for now. 

“We gotta go!” I said to Formaggio as he gawked at my Stand.

He shook himself out of it. “Right!”

I called off Rootless and began running, letting him get a slight head start since he was closest to the guards. We were about to exit the alley, just around the corner, when I felt resistance on my braid.

“Agh–! ” I yelped and tried to fight against whatever was restraining me, but it was no use.

“Not so fast!” It was a guard.

It wasn't long before a blur of movement whizzed past me and I heard the sounds of a struggle behind me. For some reason, my head was finally freed. I stumbled forward before turning around, only to see…

My precious green hair on the ground.

I reached up to feel the back of my head and my braid was gone! I wanted to scream but I tried to hold it together. My eyes peeled away from my disconnected braid long enough to see Formaggio beating the shit out of the guard that must have grabbed me. He looked pissed…

He was moving with an efficiency and speed I didn't expect him to have, ducking, weaving, and punching like he was trained for it or something… I didn't look away in enough time to avoid seeing what I hoped I’d never have to see again in my life.

A ghostly arm enveloped his, fit with a long claw, and before I could even reach out to stop him, that claw plunged into the guard’s gut as Formaggio drove his fist into him again. When the guard faltered, he shoved him against the wall and did it again and again and again, the man gasping and choking the whole time.

I couldn't stand it anymore, I had to do something! I reached out to pull Formaggio away, unaware of the tears in my eyes.

“Stop, stop, stop! You’ll kill him!” I cried.

“I know.”

That was all he said before he slit the guard’s throat, a thick spray of blood providing us a fresh coat of paint. My mouth had been open from yelling, and I felt the warm taste of iron hid my tongue, which made me want to puke right there on the spot.

Oh, God…

I heard the other guard call out to his colleague in agonizing fear, but my eyes were fixed on the dying man in front of me. 

Squelching.

Warm, red river… flowing, flowing, flowing… He drops to his knees. I'm left covered in the color. I scream. I scream horribly. My throat is raw.

I’m grabbed by the arm and dragged along before I could keep screaming, my vision hazy from tears. I don't remember all of what happened next, I don't even remember the world around me getting bigger, but suddenly, I was small enough to fit through a sewer drain. With the guidance of Formaggio, though my shock wouldn't allow me to hear a word he said, I stood on the ledge inside of the sewer. I barely noticed the smell.

I just kept sobbing.

I don't know how long it took me to run out of tears for the moment but all I do know is that when I came to, I was sitting in the corner of the ledge, against the wall, and Formaggio had his arms wrapped around me. My head was on his chest and his hand was on the back of my head. He was… humming… Yeah, I remember it now. He was humming something to me in between gently shushing me, like you’d expect to do to a scared child.

I blinked a few times and wiped my eyes, but I just ended up with a smudged red color on the side of my hand.

“You're okay, Althaia… It happens. It’s part of the job, it’s part of the process,” he said. There had been a beginning part of that, but I didn’t register it.

“It was just like before…” I whimpered.

“What?”

“Before. It was just like before. When I hurt her.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“A fellow skater. She found out I had an in with the Passione gangsters that were placing bets on me. She was going to report me to the board and the police… Get me blacklisted or arrested. I was so scared. My life would have been over. I would have lost my medical license, lost my place as a potential Olympics competitor, put the country to shame, my parents… If only they knew…”

“Althaia…”

“I killed her,” I blubbered, feeling an ugly cry coming on. “I took my skate and swung it at her. I slit her throat. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to stop her. My life ended that day too…”

He held me tighter before kissing the top of my head. “Hey, it’s okay. You aren't the only one… Come on, we gotta get to the car before la polizia start swarmin’ the area.

Again, I wasn't exactly aware of myself or my disgusting surroundings, but he helped me out of the sewer. The motions of the whole thing didn't process in my mind, they just happened. The world, which looked so big to me for a split second, rapidly became regular sized again. Before I knew it, we were back in the car and driving down the road. I couldn't do anything but stare forward, trying not to cry. If I looked in the mirror, I’d see all the blood on my face and dress.

“Why did you do that?” I managed to ask.

“Kill the guy?” His voice was more sober than usual.

“Yeah…”

“Honey… He had a gun. It was aimed atcha when I cut your hair free.”

My glassy eyes widened and I felt my heart beating out of my chest, panic setting in as my lungs expanded and contracted with reckless abandon. “I almost died…?”

“But ya didn't die, so that’s what you should focus on, okay?”

I tried to calm my breathing again but I couldn’t stop myself from crying. “I hate this job…”

“We all did. All I can say is that ya get used to it.”

“Thank you for saving my life…”

“Don't mention it, Green… Let’s getcha home. Getcha cleaned up.”

*

When we got in the door of our base, it seemed that everyone was waiting for us, eager to see how my first mission went. This… certainly wasn’t what they were expecting. 

I heard a lot of clamoring and arguing around me, but I didn't care about that. All I did was slide down against the wall and cry some more, my face buried in my knees, hugging myself.

Next thing I knew, someone was leading me upstairs. I heard distant murmuring but my ears were ringing, so I didn’t understand a word. I was made to stand in the bathroom, and that's when I finally caught a glimpse at myself.

Red. I was red. Disgusting, vile, visceral red. My hair was just above my shoulders and choppy, my dress was ruined, the walls of my eyes were pinkish from tears. I didn’t think, I just screamed again.

I could only see blobs of color through my tears now, and a familiar blond shade obscured my view of the mirror. It's voice was soft, smooth, concerned… I felt hands on my face. They were warm. I liked that.

“You’re okay. You’re safe and at home,” the voice said.

I nodded and sniffled, closing my eyes. “I feel sick.”

“I know, cariña, I know. Can I help you get this dress off?”

I nodded again.

The zipper on the back of my dress came undone and, with help, it slipped past my hips, then fell to the floor. I felt fingers hook under the waist of my tights and carefully pull them down. I was left in nothing but my matching green bra and underwear. I was coaxed to sit down on the toilet lid, unable to focus on much of anything. My jewelry came off. I could feel someone lean over me when my necklace was removed. 

The sensation of a warm, damp cloth graced my dirty face. It took a long while before it felt clean, but once there was finally no blood near my eyes, I felt someone wipe my tears away. I looked up with clear vision to see Prosciutto standing over me, a perturbed look in his eyes, though he wore an emphatic smile.

“That’s more like it. Your eyes are focusing now…” he said, smoothing out my hair with his hand. “I’ve started the shower for you. I’m going to leave the room. Go ahead and clean yourself off the rest of the way.”

He began to pull away but I held onto his arm. “I–I don’t want to be alone… The images in my mind–”

“I’ll be right outside the door, alright? I’ve set out some clothes for you on the counter. Make sure to wash your hair.”

I nodded. He held my face and kissed my forehead. After that, he left the bathroom, and I finally realized that the water was in fact running.

I undressed and got in the shower, sobbing whilst I scrubbed at my skin and hair until it hurt. I needed my skin to be new. No trace of blood could exist. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't feel brand new.

Why were things always happening to me? I’d pay my fortune to have just one day where I could feel normal. One day where I could forget I was a mafiosa, where I could forget everything I’ve lost, where I could pretend that my friends weren’t cold-blooded killers and we were all just a quirky group from some sitcom. 

But magical fixes didn’t exist. Not in the manner I needed, at least…

Now that I had somewhat come to my senses, sitting on the shower floor, letting the water drench me, I could see a small gash on my calf. I remembered feeling a sharp pain earlier… Memories of whatever part of Formaggio’s Stand I had seen flashed in my mind. That long claw… Did he cut me? For what purpose? Maybe that had something to do with how we fit in a sewer drain. To be honest, I thought maybe I had imagined that whole thing…

I summoned my own Stand again, and it touched its vine-like finger to the wound. Small, green, root-like structures threaded themselves between my skin and sewed it closed. In only a few seconds, it was like it never happened.

For a time, Rootless was all that I had… The only thing by my side that I could really depend on. Despite how sharp it was, it still felt nice just to have someone to sit next to.

And right now, that’s what I needed.

*

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, now wearing a baggy t-shirt and plaid lounge pants, I saw Prosciutto waiting for me, just like he said he would. I didn’t have any words for him, but luckily, he didn't need any. He just opened his arms up to me and I stumbled forward, falling into his embrace. We stayed there for a little while, silent and unmoving, save for the way he rubbed my back. 

“You did good,” he finally said in a low voice. “Everyone’s first mission was rough.”

“I wanted to be perfect… I didn't want it to end in a casualty,” I mumbled.

“No one is perfect… Not me, not you, not the rest of the team, not even God. Everything– and everyone –has flaws. We all make mistakes, we all see things we shouldn't have seen, we all have blood on our hands…”

“No, you're perfect…”

He chuckled wryly. “Far from it.”

“To me.”

He kissed my forehead before pulling me closer. “I know it will be hard to forget, especially because you aren't prepared to be a hitman, but don’t let this drag you down… This won't be the worst or last death you see. If you let every little mishap in this job leech off of your wellbeing, you’ll be a shell of yourself in no time.” He then held my face and looked me in the eyes. “And I like who you are now. A lot. Please don't change for Passione of all things, cariña… ”

I teared up again, but this time for a different reason. I nodded and closed my eyes. “I’ll try… Just please give me time to get past this.”

“Of course.”

“I… don’t think I’ll be able to handle it if I ever see you kill someone…”

“It’s part of the job. I’m good at what I do and it puts food on the table. You’ll have to see it at some point.”

“I know, but… it makes me feel sick just thinking about it. I don’t want this life for myself. I don't want it for you guys either. I wish we could all be happy… Live average lives.”

He didn’t answer for a good few seconds. “I want that too… Every day. But we’re here now, alright? There’s no point in dwelling on what you can’t have. Try to find the good in what is present.”

“There’s nothing good about death. There’s nothing good about me watching you end a life…”

“You know what I am. Why is this going to be so difficult for you?”

“Because you’re sweet, Prosciutto.”

“I’m not…”

I looked into his eyes now, a tear streaming down my cheek. “You’re sweet to me. You care, and you love, and spend your mornings sipping coffee and reading the paper. You give good pep talks, you have faith, you provide for us. You hug others, you have a warm laugh, and I want so badly to sleep next to you at night…” My lip quivered as I fought back a sob. “And I'm not ready to know you as anything other than that… Not yet…”

I could see his eyes fill with regret and shame, his lips pulled back into a tight frown. He tried to force eye contact but he eventually relented and cast his gaze low. “I’m sorry. I’d like more than anything to be just that… but I’m not. I never will be. I am what I am, and I have this job for a reason. I’m not soft… At the end of the day, I’m a criminal- a disgusting one -and a murderer. I just also know how to behave like a decent person, and I treat you with dignity. That’s all. I’m not the man you think I am.”

I nodded, wiping my tears and turning my head away. “I know… I just want to pretend. It makes me feel better… It makes me feel like, for just a split second, that I’m not wasting my life… And that I found a family again.”

He tried to get me to face him again but I retreated to my room, closing the door behind me. I grabbed Prosciutto’s hoodie from the post on my bed frame and threw it on before curling up into a ball in bed. 

I wanted to pretend I wasn’t crying. I wanted to pretend I wasn't pulling the covers over me to hide from the world. I wanted to pretend that this was all a bad plot point in a movie and that when I woke up, everything would be okay again. I wanted to pretend that the men I lived with were innocent, and so was I, and that we were one big, happy family.

That’s all this was. Every day was a stall. I was just pretending.

*

I was half asleep with a puffy, red face when a knock on my door startled me awake.

“Wha–?” I sat up a bit, squinting at the door.

The door opened and a large, dark-haired man popped his head in. Illuso…

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside. 

“Oh, hey…” I rubbed my swollen eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Tends to happen after your first mission. Especially if it… ends like this.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“I came to check on you.”

“I’ll… be fine.”

“I heard the little argument you got into with Prosciutto.”

“It wasn't an argument.”

“The end of it didn't sound great.”

“It’s fine.”

He sat down on the edge of my bed, hands in his lap. “Rough haircut.”

I could tell he was joking but I wasn't in the mood to laugh. “Ha-ha, ” I huffed dryly. 

“You know, I don't compliment people often because, well, I deserve the compliments, if they're going around, but…” He paused for a moment, rolling his eyes. “I was quite jealous of your hair. It was shiny, healthy, beautiful…”

I nodded. I almost smiled before I remembered what happened to my hair. “That’s nice of you…”

“Anyway, since you’ve had a rough day, I can help you style it if you want.”

“Really…?” I stared at him for a moment. Why would he be helping me? Does he actually care about me that much?

“Sure.” He shrugged.

I sighed and laid back down, falling back into my own self pity. “I don't feel like getting out of bed right now…”

“You’re going to have to get out of bed at some point, y’know… You can't let this keep you down forever.”

I met his red eyes with a pouty look on my face. I didn't want to admit that Illuso, of all people, was right. “I didn't even want to do this in the first place…”

“None of us did, smartass. And if you think you’re somehow special because you’re ‘good hearted’ and ‘don't belong here’ then you can cut the crap. I mean, really… Do you think you’re the only one with a sad story? Or do you think that you’re the only one who had a bad first mission? Come on, you’re smarter than that.”

I sat up again, my brows now furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you heard me. The fact that your pity party is so obnoxious that the vainest guy you’ll ever meet has to be the one to tell you to get over yourself is a sign to pick your head up.”

Usually if he had one-upped somebody, he’d seem all smug and full of himself, but he didn’t… No, he looked dead serious. It was the same kind of look that your best friend would give you if they found out you drunkenly got back together with your ex. I think in any other situation, I’d be angry with him, but… I wasn't. It surprised me too. Instead of protesting, I simply nodded and leaned forward with my head against his shoulder.

“Thank you… I needed to hear that,” I murmured.

“You can pay me back later,” he teased, his arms crossed over his chest. “Now, come on. Let’s go make it look like your haircut wasn't an accident.”

*

It was night again, just like before, but this time, I didn't even have a chance of closing my eyes and getting some rest. The images from today just kept replaying in my mind. All that blood and pain… And the fact that I almost died didn't help. I was probably a total embarrassment to the team, right? Or maybe they blamed Formaggio for the whole thing… I hoped they didn’t. This wasn't his fault, it was just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Still… I couldn't sleep no matter what I told myself, so I did what I thought was only right in a situation like this. 

I got out of bed, and unlike last night, I was fully aware of what I was doing. I looked at my hair in the mirror. It was still short and choppy, but it seemed more purposeful and even now, thanks to Illuso. I missed my long hair but I could live with it better now that it looked decent. 

I opened my room door and made my way to Risotto’s room again, carefully cracking the door open and peering inside. It must have been around two in the morning but instead of seeing him sleeping under the covers, he was standing in front of his vanity. He was shirtless, and once again, I could see the scars adorning his torso, as well as his white hair free from the hood he covered it with. 

He turned to look at me, a dirty makeup wipe in his hand. Huh… I didn't exactly realize he wore much makeup past lipstick and some eyeshadow… Now that I could see his bare face in the light, I could see many scars around his nose and lips. I wonder what happened…

“What are you doing here for a second night, Amalthea?” he asked in a ticked off manner.

I kept my head down and stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. “I… can't sleep. No surprise there…”

He sighed and I could see him going over his options in his mind. He wasn’t tired, so he still had an opportunity to be mean to me. I wore a pleading expression, silently mouthing “please, please, please” while he scowled at me. Eventually, though, he relented and grunted before going back to wiping the makeup off of his face.

“Fine… Make yourself comfortable, I guess… But you’re not sleeping in here tonight,” he said.

I climbed into his bed and sat there, my eyes flicking between him and my hands, which rested on my lap. “Did you carry me back to my room this morning?”

“I did. I wanted you out of here before anyone could see or had any questions.”

“So you’re embarrassed of me?”

“I’m not 'embarrassed’ of anything… I just don't need anyone thinking I’ve gone soft.”

“You are soft, though… Maybe not on the outside, but… you comforted me last night. I could… really use that again.”

He gripped his vanity, closing his eyes, the muscles on his face tensing. When he spoke, his words sounded strained. “You can't come running to get into my bed every time something bad happens. That's not how this works.”

I looked down again, feeling a strange sensation pool in my gut. “I–I just need a friend right now… I’m not used to danger like this yet. I’m not like you.”

He was silent for far too long, not offering me much of an answer besides a glare cast in my direction. I took that as his reply, though.

“Fine… I–I’ll go. Sorry for bothering you…” I got up and walked towards the door again, a heavy feeling of rejection settling on my shoulders.

Just as my hand touched the doorknob, I heard a groan from behind me before he finally spoke up again. “Stay.”

I turned around, holding my tongue so I didn't say the wrong thing and make him change his mind. He moved from his vanity to his bed, sitting down and fighting with himself before patting the spot next to him. I smiled softly before getting back into bed and leaning against him. He put his arm around me, gently rubbing my shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“Don’t tell anyone that I do this for you.” He kept his eyes forward.

“Sorry… I would have bothered Prosciutto for once but he shares a room, so…”

“I get it. It’s fine.”

“Did your first mission go this badly?”

“Not quite… I’ve never failed a hit. And I’m careful. I never get close to a target.”

“So… I failed my first mission?”

“Technically no. The target died, after all. There was unneeded static involved but it could have gone worse.”

“How could it have gone worse?!"

“Well, you could have been the one who died.”

“Oh, right…”

“I’m very glad you didn’t, though.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah. Don't be an idiot. Just because you’re annoying doesn't mean I want you dead.”

“That and you love me.”

He about jumped out of his skin. “What did you just say?!”

“I remember you saying it last night.” He chuckled at his reaction, feeling a surge of vindication wash over me.

He made a face before clicking his tongue and responding in a voice that was barely audible. “I do, I guess…”

“I love you too.”

Despite the harshness of his glower, his cheeks turned a pinkish hue and let out a deep breath. “Fine then. It’s settled.”

I thought for a moment before bringing up what was really bothering me. “How long did it take for you to not be haunted by all of the carnage?”

“I never was.”

“Huh?”

“I'm a cold-blooded killer. I was never bothered by any of it. In fact, the first time I killed, it was before I ever joined Passione. It’s what led me down this path. I'm good at it, I don't experience any remorse, and the sight of gore doesn’t faze me.”

“H-how…? How could something like that not bother you? You’re… You’re ending a life, for God’s sake! You don’t feel anything?"

He grinned a bit, staring off into space. “Nothing but the thrill of a job well done.”

I shuddered. “I forget who you guys are sometimes… I don't fit in at all.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to fit in with us. We’re a bunch of monsters. It’ll make the job that much harder, but if you hold onto your humanity a bit, at least you won't end up like us. Maybe just more troubled at the end of the day…”

“I– I don't want this to be any harder… But I can't shake off my disgust with this whole thing.”

“You can’t change what you are at your core. Deep down, you’re a caring person, a healer, a source of light in the world. And all of us here? We're the opposite. You’re right when you say you don't belong here, but you’re here anyway. Try to pretend that you’re as scummy as us and maybe it’ll get easier. Fake it til you make it.”

It took me a while to think it over and come up with a reply, but by the time I did, he had already laid down. “I can give it a try… That’s all I’ll say. I– I think my love for you all, and all of the good things that you usually don’t do on purpose, shields my eyes from seeing all of the bad things that are purposeful. I ignore the nature of your jobs for my own sake. I choose to focus on what is right in front of me, which is the family I’ve found in this group… I feel like I’m partly living a lie, though. That I'm just pretending that we’re this happy little family because I’ve never had that in my life before. I’m pretending that all of you are normal people at the end of the day and putting you on pedestals. That backfires when you guys do something violent or criminal, though, because everything comes crashing down that much harder.”

I felt like I had just bared my soul to him. It was a disgusting but relieving feeling that left me a little hollow as I awaited his reply.

“For the record, I think that’s a perfectly normal coping mechanism for your situation. You’re just working with what you have. There's nothing wrong with that. You’ll come to a place of acceptance one day with more exposure. Don't be so hard on yourself."

I looked down at him, awe filling my eyes. His therapist side came out again… “Really?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed in a softer voice. “Now, get some rest. You don't have to deal with all of your feelings today. After a stressful day, getting sleep helps you recover. We can talk about this more tomorrow.”

I nodded. “Thanks…” I laid down next to him, just like last night, getting under the covers.

He was quiet for a moment before his voice became sharp again. “I meant in your own bed, genius.”

I was a tad flustered but I tried to play it off. “Well, I figured since I’m already here…”

He grumbled before reaching to turn his bedside lamp off and settling down again. I was laying on my back while he was on his stomach, his head turned towards me. I think that, even if he would never admit it, he enjoyed having someone to sleep next to. It made this cold room of his less lonely. In fact, I know so because of what he did next…

He draped his arm across my waist before getting closer and snuggling against me. He even pressed a quick little kiss to my neck before laying his head on my pillow. I could feel his soft breaths on my shoulder. I wasn't even sure what to do with myself or the warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest that began with his closeness. I knew, however, that if I spoke, I had a chance of ruining it, so I kept my mouth shut.

“If you speak of this tomorrow I will kill you,” he whispered.

I gulped and nodded. “Sounds about right…”

“Goodnight, Amalthea.”

“Night… Love you.”

“...Love you too.”

 

-- Chapter End --

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Notes:

I'm sorry this took so long. I actually had this done and just needed to revise and post it for weeks. But I've been busy with work, bills, chores, and I've happily settled into a relationship, and I'll hopefully be engaged before the year's end. So, with the stress of being an adult, all good things, but that leaves less room for JoJo or fan fiction in my head lol. Thank you to those who have stuck around and will still read this, tho! Y'all are goated!

Chapter 34: Assassin Anecdotes: The Only Exception

Summary:

It's about time that she admitted he was the only exception to the rule...

Notes:

This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful, supportive partner and soon-to-be fiancé. Thank you for being the only exception.

Third-person perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

Althaia had decided she was a bit hungry come noon so she ventured into the kitchen to prepare herself a meal, however, upon entering, she was met with the sight of Illuso. She watched with a concerned expression as he slid a kitchen knife under one of the keys to his laptop, prying it off. There were other dents and scuffs on it too...

"Illuso...? What are you doing?" she asked, head turned in a curious manner.

He looked up at her like a deer caught in headlights, putting the knife down.

"Illuso?" she asked again.

He picked up the laptop and rushed off, keeping it held to his chest. "That's classified."

Althaia watched him rush to his room for a moment, brow raised... But she had a feeling she knew what this was about.

 

*

 

Marsala's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

I opened my front door after hearing someone knock on it, and who do I see? Illuso, holding a broken laptop in his hands with his typical stupid expression on his face. Oh, joy...

"What do you want, Illuso?" I asked, a hint of annoyance seeping through my tone.

"I, uh... Need you to fix something." He gestured with the laptop a bit.

I stared at him for a long moment. I knew what he was doing. This idiota...

"This is the fourth thing you've asked me to fix this week alone..."

"Well, y'know, when Ghiaccio gets rowdy, he tends to... break stuff..."

I rolled my eyes and let him in. "Fine."

Since Illuso had been making visits to my home- and staying over often -I had to take down all of the printed-out photos of Prosciutto on my wall. I thought I would miss them dearly, but recently, my mind has been occupied with Illuso and how utterly annoying he is to me. I've been keeping my eye on his files and have been growing more and more interested in his life, purely out of necessity because he constantly pesters me. And... he has his moments where he's helpful too.

Someone, and I don't know who yet, gave him my pager number as well as one of my emails a long time ago, so, throughout the day I get messages like, "How are you? Hope you're doing well." Or even, "I was pouring myself a glass of wine and it reminded me of your eyes." How bothersome...

And when he wasn't trying to contact me, he was here at my house, having me fix something that I'm now almost 100% certain he's breaking on purpose. He would sometimes bring me food or wine or flowers as well... Jerk.

As payback, though, I made him do things around the house for me, which sometimes meant he stayed over. I made him sleep on the couch. He didn't seem to mind fixing things up, cleaning, or cooking for me. In fact, he said it made him "feel like my husband"... I always swatted at him after he would dare to say such a thing. Still, though... it was sort of nice to not always be alone or have to struggle through a difficult chore and end up in pain.

I told him to follow me back into my computer room which also doubled as my bedroom. Unfortunately, due to the nature of my job, I had to be at the ready to fix something or search for information, so I had to have my bed close to my PC. Once we were in my room, I brought the laptop to my repair desk where I kept all of my tools, and Illuso sat on my satin, crimson-clad bed, like usual.

We had been spending a lot of time together lately not only because of his shenanigans and also because when he brought food over, we'd have lunch or dinner too. And despite how much his constant poking at me or teasing made me snap at him in the only way I could, I was beginning to miss his company when he was gone. For almost the past six months, we had spent nearly every day together.

I don't know what he thought this was, or what we were... I assume he's trying to court me, but I couldn't be bothered, not really. I suppose he also wanted us to be friends, sure... Would I call him my friend? I guess I already did a month or so ago. That's the night he fed me cake... told me that I'm marriage material. And I hugged him.

As I began repairing the keyboard on the laptop, Illuso and I indulged in some conversation, per usual when he was over.

"I should thank you properly for helping me so much these past few months..." he began.

"How about be more careful with your electronics?" I muttered, mostly focused on my work.

"Well, that and... I could take you out to dinner. Y'know, one at a ristorante..."

"The last time we were at a ristorante together you were all pouty because I hurt your feelings or whatever."

"Because I– Well..." He huffed and furrowed his brows. "I already explained myself."

"Yeah, the explanation was that you're vain and couldn't handle a stray joke at your expense."

"I'm vain and yet all I want to do is provide for you, Marsala."

I paused what I was doing when he said that, and that's when he began to approach me.

"Provide for me and constantly poke and prod at me until I swat your hands away," I retorted with a faint grumble in my voice. "Or hit you with my crutches."

"What can I say? I enjoy getting little reactions out of you." He snickered a bit before doing exactly that and poking me in the shoulder.

I turned my head to glare at him, though I'm sure it looked like nothing more than a bland expression. "Do you enjoy pissing me off? Because that's what you're doing."

"A bit, yes." He pulled up my other desk chair beside me and sat that the opposite end of my small desk, resting his head on his hand. "I can sometimes see little flickers of emotion on your face and it's a thrill."

I sort of kicked his leg with my foot under the table. "Are you thrilled by being hit?"

He winced a bit but quickly recovered and flashed me a smile. "Only when it's by your hand, darling."

I rolled my eyes and huffed. I didn't like that sometimes he could make me feel like I could be blushing when he said things like that. I wanted to trap all the butterflies he caused me in a jar and let them suffocate.

"I've been reading about Man In The Mirror," I mentioned, switching the subject. "A Stand that can bring you to a quiet, secluded world that you have control over at will... It sounds like a dream, to be honest."

Illuso sat up straight again and a hint of both surprise and self-absorbed satisfaction radiated from him. "Really?? Hmph, well, it's no wonder you're jealous of it. My Stand is superior to most."

I scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself so much. I swear, with one compliment you can inflate your ego ten times as much as it was before."

"At least I'm not reliant on external validation. Besides, the benefits of Man In The Mirror could be yours too, y'know..."

I raised a brow at him.

"No, really. I could show you around the mirror world, where it's quiet and tranquil. Where there's no one to bother you."

"Aside from you."

"Yes, aside from me... Though I could leave you alone as well, if you'd like."

I shook my head. "Tch. You? Leave me alone? Shocking."

"Hey, I might enjoy making you angry, but I'd prefer if you didn't fully hate me."

"Then stop breaking electronics on purpose just to have an excuse to see me."

He feigned an offense at my accusation and put his hand on his chest. "Me? You think I'd break them on purpose? Your imagination is truly somethin'."

"Don't make yourself seem more stupid than you already are, idiota. You know what you're doing."

He rolled his red eyes a bit, looking away. I was really quite fond of his eyes, but I'd never tell him. The way his espresso bangs would sometimes fall over them... I knew their hex code as well now... And I was almost sure he wore a bit of makeup, though it was subtle. But I thought it was nice.

He scrunched his nose up and rumbled something incoherent under his breath before finally relenting. "...Fine. I'll stop."

I sighed a breath of relief. "Good... Because I think you've finally killed this laptop."

His eyes widened and he nearly jumped out of his chair in order to pick it up and inspect it. "What?!"

"Yeah... The keys are so damaged I can't reattach them anymore and you managed to leave a permanent dark spot in the screen. Plus, some fans are probably loose due to slamming it against something, and one of your attempts to pry the keys off punctured some internal structures. Repeated impact has caused battery leakage."

He gritted his teeth and set it down quite roughly before sighing and sitting back down, rubbing his forehead as he thought. "Dammit..."

"A laptop can only handle so much abuse..."

"Marsala, you're the expert. Can you help me choose a new one?"

While I would have loved to tell him no, I felt my heart light up a little at his request. I loved this kind of thing. "Yes, definitely. I'll help you."

"Really? Wow, I thought you'd tell me to go to hell or somethin'..."

"No, I... I actually really love shopping for electronics and building PCs."

He smirked a bit. "Then I'd love to bring you along with me when I go to the store for one."

I felt so much excitement inside of me that it was honestly disgusting. I wished I could show it. "I... I'm so happy right now. I want to smile."

He reached forward and gently cupped my face with his hands, using his thumbs to push the corners of my red-painted lips upwards into a smile. It felt... good. Like my body was finally cooperating with me. He was silent for a long while, just looking into my eyes.

"You look gorgeous with a smile on your face, darling... It suits you," he said.

That fiery, sparking sensation lit up in my chest again and this time, I didn't try to fight it. "I've never been complimented for my smile before..."

"That's a shame... But I'm feeling pretty damn good over the fact that I'm the reason you're happy right now," he bragged with a puffed-out chest.

I think I leaned my head into his hands a bit, even if I rolled my eyes once again. "Your ego knows no bounds... But... Yeah, you did... make me smile... Thank you."

"All I want is to be a reason you even consider smiling..."

I was about to say something else when my PC chimed and I broke away from our little moment. I turned around and rolled myself to my computer desk, quickly logging into my desktop and searching for the notification. It was on one of my shortcut files– one of Prosciutto's –so I double-clicked it and maximized the window. I pumped my fist up a bit when I read the screen, and though my voice was as flat as could be, I cheered in my own little way.

"Yay. Prosciutto just finished a successful mission," I said.

Illuso rolled his eyes and looked off to the side, resting his chin on the ball of his hand again as he leaned against my work desk. "Oh, wonderful..."

He sounded as drab as I usually do. I turned around and raised a brow at him. "What was that for?"

He sighed and gestured dismissively, still refusing to look at me. "Nothing... It was for nothing."

Was that... jealousy? Hm... Is he jealous of my obsession with Prosciutto? He shouldn't be... It's quite unhealthy and one-sided... And dying... I told him that it was just a fantasy.

"Did you still want to get dinner?" I asked.

He finally looked at me again, his expression softening. "You... still want to go out? I figured you were done with me now that Prosciutto had your attention again."

I sighed. "I told you that my nearly morbid obsession with Prosciutto is, as I'm quite certain, never going to amount to anything. I have time for dinner."

I could see him mulling it over for a moment before nodding. "Then let's go."

I held my hand out to stop him from moving for a second. "And, for the record, I... haven't been thinking that much about him lately... You've been the one that's on my mind. As annoying as that is..."

I think he was astonished by my honesty, because that awe-filled expression on his face lingered and it made him seem dopey. "W–wait, are you... serious?"

I nodded, but when I did, the muscles in my neck jerked a bit so the movement was a bit spastic. Damn, I hated when this happened. He didn't seem to pay it much mind anymore, though. Even when my face twitched, he didn't react in disgust or judgement.

"Yeah," I said, my voice wavering a bit due to the tremors, my body still jolting. "Sorry. I can't–"

He shook his head, and his expression softened into something caring. "Hey, it's alright. Don't apologize to me. Just let me know if you need anything..."

I gave it a minute or so for my muscles to relax again, and luckily, they did, except for my right eyebrow, which was tensed for now. Illuso was quiet and patient the whole time. He always was when it came to this, at least, after he freaked out the first time.

I tried to stand up but remembered that I left my crutches at my work desk, so I grimaced a bit and sat back down after barely rising to my feet. It was always so hard to get up after sitting...

However, Illuso came to the rescue once again and brought my crutches to me, but he had that signature annoying grin on his face that spelled trouble for me. I was already over his bullshit... But I held my arms out and let him pull me up to my feet by my waist. Once I was standing, he kept me close to him, looking down at me with a sneer on his face.

"I'll give you your crutches if you give me a kiss."

My eyes widened a bit, and I was sure I was actually probably blushing this time. But wow, did it feel good to show some form of emotion on my own! "W–what?"

"You heard me."

I thought for a moment before reaching up and grasping his face with my gloved hands and pulling it closer to my height. I placed a soft kiss on his cheek, and I already knew it would stain. I don't think he expected me to actually comply with his tease, because when I pulled away and got a good look at his face, he was a wide-eyed, flushed mess... He had such a doe-eyed expression on his face combined with a lipstick stain. It was hilarious.

"You... You actually...?" he stammered.

I nodded and took my crutches from him. "What other choice did I have, hm?"

That was a lie... I chose to do that. When it came down to it, I guess I could decide. I had a certain affection for him... Let's just put it this way: if I had to share a bed with anyone, or let anyone see me during a weak moment, I'd choose him. As much as that makes me want to throw up.

He looked away, his face relaxing a bit into something more embarrassed than shocked. "Man, stone-faced women like you are terrifying... I can't read you at all. I can't prepare for anything you do."

I snapped my crutches into the bracers on my arms. "And yet you still come by nearly every day to bother me..."

He glanced around the room, seemingly wrestling with himself, attempting to force out words that were trapped in his throat. I'd never seen him look so hesitant.

"What? What is it? Why are you acting like this?"

"It's... it's nothing," he mumbled, looking down.

I scoffed. "Ugh, come on, Illuso. Don't waste my time. Why are you being so weird?"

"Because I want you, Marsala! I do," he blurted out, his expression twisted into a pout. "I think about you all the time, more than myself sometimes. That has never happened to me before with anyone else. I..." he trailed off after rambling, his face as red as my outfit. "You held yourself with such an air of disinterest when I first met you and you were so mean... And even if you pissed me off, I think I fell for you right there... Ever since then all I've wanted is to see you in some way, I wanted to get some kind of reaction out of you, anything... And now I want nothing more than to do what we've been doing every day... You're so mean in such a hot way and I... If I can't look at my own reflection, your face is the one I want to see before me... I told you that one day, someone was going to marry you. One day, someone was going to show you that you could be loved for the rest of your life... I can do that. I want to do that. I would marry you right this second if you would let me."

I didn't know how to even react, how I even wanted to react... For once I was... utterly shocked. But not terrified like I was when I saw Prosciutto for the first time... No, I was... I was a lot of things, actually, now that my emotions had time to reach my brain. I was flattered, intrigued, angry at myself for not being annoyed by his antics, and... something else that felt completely foreign to me. Something strange, but good... I think I...

"You pester me to no end, Illuso," I began. "You've filled up my mind, I've been keeping tabs on you on my computer... You bother me constantly with your messages, and the way you rope me into hours-long phone calls at night. The way your voice gets low and tired and yet you still tease me. When we fall asleep together on the phone by accident and I hate the way I actually wished you were with me. You bring me food, gifts, anything I didn't ask for. You get under my skin, you touch me where no one else has, you tell me things that no one else has wanted to, you make me feel these horrible butterflies in my chest, I–..."

With each word I said, I watched his eyes light up more and more, and his smile grow until he looked so happy I wanted to punch him.

"You irritate me, by God, you irritate me..." I huffed. "But... I'd rather it be you than anyone else. I hate everyone but... you are the only exception."

He hesitated for a moment before taking an unsteady breath and holding my hands. "R–really, now...? You've got a lot of good things to say about me. Seems like you want me just as much... Though, I'm not surprised, well, with how strong, intelligent, handsome, thoughtf–"

I detached my crutches and reached up to hold his face again, pulling him close and pressing my velvety lips against his, emanating an amount of passion I've yet to match before. Once he recovered from the surprise, he wrapped his arms around my waist to keep me steady while I wrapped mine over his shoulders. Our lips meshed together in a pattern over and over again, meeting, melting, retreating, meeting, melting, retreating... It didn't take long for his hand to become tangled in my ruby locks, and it took even less time to let out a desperate breath of air in between kisses...

I hated that I didn't hate this.

 

-- Chapter End --

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Notes:

Listen to The Only Exception by Paramore!!!!!! I've had this in my drafts for a while, and I figured it was finally time for them to get together! Check out the official Tumblr for some IlluSala art!

Chapter 35: Wrong Way

Summary:

Moving to a new high school in another country is never easy--
especially if you meet a guy who only wants to do right by you in all the wrong ways.

Notes:

This chapter is dedicated to my friend Abby, who, on top of always creatively inspiring me, helped to push me out of my unofficial hiatus. Thank you for every tip you've ever given me, every long paragraph of mine you've ever read, reading every chapter I post, and being an amazing friend and supporter to me <3

Alex's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 1991

 

It was hard enough goin’ to secondary school. Now, just imagine goin’ to a brand-new secondary school in a country where no one really speaks the same language as you 'nd your shitty accent makes it hard to communicate with everyone else.

Yeah, that was my situation at the current moment.

It’d taken me nearly six months, but I’d finally gotten acquainted with my schedule, where to find everything at school, 'nd my locker combination. It was gonna take longer than that for everyone 'ta get used 'ta me, though. 

There was one guy who had gotten used 'ta me and by God, I hated him. He was annoyin’ as hell. He always bothered me at my locker, pickin’ on me for my accent 'nd such, sittin’ with me at lunch, walkin’ with me to my classes. He was a berk 'nd a cheesy one too, but unfortunately, I’d gotten used 'ta him too, mostly 'cause he’d come around any chance he got. He might be the closest thing I had to a mate 'nd that was the sad truth, no matter if he got on my wick or not. 

When I arrived at my locker first thing after gettin’ in the door, I wasn't surprised 'ta find 'im there, leanin’ against it 'nd grinnin’ at me. 'Is green eyes looked me up 'nd down from behind 'is short, gray dreads, 'nd I only rolled mine.

“Get off my locker, I’m gonna be late,” I demanded, shoving past 'im.

“Oh, come on, Princess. Can't I say good mornin’ to ya?” he asked, his English riddled with a thick Italian accent.

“Stop callin’ me that, Formaggio.” I shoved my belongings into my locker 'nd retrieved a stack 'a journals 'nd books. I took this time 'ta look into the small mirror I had in there, stuck 'ta the inside 'a the door. My royal blue hair 'nd magenta bangs were a sorta ratty mess, thrown into a hasty ponytail, my makeup rushed 'nd sloppy. Nothin’ I could do 'bout it now, though…

“What? Can't show my favorite girl some love? Huh?”

“‘Favorite girl’ ? You torture me every damn day…” I then looked 'im over 'fore spittin’ out the thing I planned to call 'im 'til he called me by my real name. “... 'Maggie.”

His brows furrowed 'nd he grumbled 'fore respondin’. “Wha–! ''Maggie' is a girl’s name!”

“So? I think it suits you."

“Oh-ho, you’re gonna regret that, new chick!”

He swiftly snatched my books from my arms 'nd stuck them on top of the lockers– outta my reach –with a sneer on his face, obviously proud of 'imself. I let off an outraged groan ‘fore tryin’ 'ta jump up ‘ta get 'em back, but it was no use. I couldn't reach ‘em. I stared daggers at ‘im while he shrugged ‘nd giggled to ‘imself like a wanker.

“You get my books down right now, ‘Maggie!” I commanded.

“Stop callin’ me that!” He leaned against the lockers again, refusin’ to help.

“You’re a fuckin’ prick! Get ‘em down or I’ll tear you a new one!”

“Oh, I’m so scared! Do your worst, Brit.”

I growled before grabbin’ ‘im by the collar ‘nd whirlin’ ‘im around, rammin’ ‘im into the lockers across the hallway. The passersby all gasped, murmured, ‘nd hollered in shock, but no one was more gobsmacked than ‘Maggie. His jaw hung open ‘nd he tensed up, hesitatin’ under my grip for a moment ‘fore tryin’ ‘ta shove me off. 

“Ugh! Get offa me! I’m not gonna hit a girl!” he yelled, strugglin’ against me.

“Oh, really? Too bad, ‘cause this girl’s gonna hit you!”

I wound up my fist ‘fore punchin’ ‘im square in the jaw. He winced under my knuckles ‘nd finally found the strength ‘ta really push me away. I stumbled back for a split second, but I didn't falter. His lip was bleedin’, ‘nd his eyes were borin’ venomous holes into me, but I saw somethin’ else flicker in ‘is eyes… It looked akin to respect. 

“Now get my books down!” I demanded, stampin’ my foot.

“Psh, after ya hit me? Yeah, right. You’re a strong girl, you can get ‘em down yourself,” he jeered ‘fore flashin’ me a slightly bloody smile ‘nd disappearin’ into the formin’ crowd. 

I was so angry I could scream. There was no way I could catch up with ‘im now, ‘specially with the first-period bell ringin’. I huffed ‘nd rolled my eyes, returnin’ to my locker ‘nd tryin’ ‘ta figure out how I was gonna get my damn books down.

This plum was gonna make me late for class…

*

I was damn right. I was late for class ‘nd I didn’t have my books. I got reprimanded for it too. It’s all his fault. I tried to tell ‘em that but they didn’t really care ta’ listen. After all, my accent was hard ‘ta understand ‘nd they didn't have the time nor energy ‘ta decipher it. 

I had ‘ta use the office phone ‘ta call my folks n’ let ‘em know that I’d earned myself some after school detention. I didn't have a good feelin’ they were gonna answer, but I left a voicemail anyway… It’s not like they’d listen. 

I'd have ‘ta find my own way home again tonight.

Five listless hours after school ended, I was finally released, ‘nd it was already dark out. Damn… didn't like the idea ‘a walkin’ home alone like this. Maybe I could still find some students in the parkin’ lot that I could catch a ride from. 

I rushed down the empty, dimly lit halls ‘ta reach my locker ‘nd collect my things. I still didn't have my damn books, ‘nd I expected ‘ta have ‘ta fight ‘ta get ‘em off the top ‘a the lockers, but ‘ta my surprise, when I got there, I saw ‘em stacked on the ground in fronta it. Huh… Wonder who was behind this. I shrugged ‘nd silently thanked whatever kind stranger got ‘em down, slippin’ my stuff into my school bag ‘nd slammin’ the door shut.

I walked outta the front door ‘a the main school buildin’ ‘nd dashed ‘round the corner ‘t check the student parkin’ lot, but ‘ta my dismay, there were no cars, ‘cept for an empty one in the far back corner. Damn! Looks like I was walkin’... I wished I had my knife on me. Maybe if I waited for a lil’ while a teacher would pull out ‘nd offer me a ride… I could only hope, anyway.

I took a seat on one ‘a the low brick benches near the edge ‘a the parkin’ lot, watchin’ as it got darker, hopin’ that someone would stop for me, but no one ever did. After another hour, I was completely alone ‘nd feelin’ pathetic. Looks like I’d have ‘ta walk. I wondered if my folks gave two shits where I was, but if I was bein’ honest, they probably didn't think twice. Least, my mum didn’t. My dad was probably rantin’ ‘nd ravin’ by now, though.

I stared at the ground with a troubled expression, wallowin’ in self-pity for a spare moment or two. Today was unlucky as hell, ‘nd it was all that bloody Formaggio’s fault. Damn ‘im. I hope ‘is fat lip hurts like a bitch. 

The night was really silent, aside from the sounds ‘a crickets chirpin’ ‘nd distant cars from nearby roads. It was so quiet that it was no wonder I whipped my head ‘round to stare at that same lone car in the parkin’ lot when its engine came ‘ta life. Shit, somebody was here! Maybe they'd help me out…

As the car backed outta its spot ‘nd drove towards the exit- ‘nd subsequently, me -I stood up ‘nd waved ‘em down, tryin’ to put on a friendly smile. 

My reflection in the passenger-side window soon went away as it rolled down, ‘nd the sight I was met with riled up my anger tenfold.

That same damn smirk.

“Hey, Princess! Little late to be out, isn't it?” Formaggio asked, laughing to ‘imself in a smug manner. 

I rolled my eyes. This was my only option? Yeah, like he would help. “‘Little late to be out, innit?’” I mocked ‘fore placin’ my hands on my hips. “Bollocks… Your damn antics got me detention after school. That’s why I’m stuck out here.”

“Detention ended a long time ago. That ain't why you’re still out here.”

I huffed ‘nd tapped my foot on the ground impatiently ‘fore mumblin’ out my reply, “Fine, I–... I was afraid to walk home alone in the dark…”

His playful expression dropped when I said that ‘nd he soon became serious. He was silent ‘fore noddin ‘nd speakin’ with a sigh. “Yeah, uh… I get that. Want a ride home?”

I raised a brow at ‘im. “You’re offerin’ ‘ta do somethin’ nice for me?”

“Hey! I did something nice for ya earlier too! I got those books down before I left the building.”

Huh… “Wouldn’t’ve had 'ta do that if you’d never put ‘em up there in the first place!”

“God, would ya stop bein’ ungrateful and get in the car, woman?”

Well… technically, this is what I wanted, so… “Fine."

I opened the passenger door ‘nd sat down in the seat, puttin’ my school bag by my feet. It smelled like weed in here. It was clear what he was straglin’ in the parkin’ lot for now. I didn't ask no questions, though. We all had our vices… When I fastened my seatbelt, I realized he wasn't wearin’ one. I made a bit of a face at ‘im, which he caught onto.

“Where’s your seatbelt?” I asked, narrowin’ my eyes at ‘im.

“What’re you? My mom? It’s my car. I’ll go without a seatbelt if I feel like it,” he responded, slowly creepin’ outta the parkin’ lot.

“No, I’m not your mum but I know damn well she'd want you to wear one. Are you really as stupid as you look? Put on your damn seatbelt!”

He glared at me before clickin’ his tongue 'nd reluctantly pullin’ it 'cross 'is chest, shovin’ it into place. “There. Happy?”

“I’m nowhere close 'ta happy but at least you can listen occasionally.” I stared out the window with a sour expression.

The car fell silent for a minute or so ‘fore he broke it. “So… where do you live?”

Oh, right. “Uh, y’know that shitty neighborhood offa 3rd street?”

“Yeah.”

“Mine’s the third house in, on the right side.”

“Cool, alright. I’ll take ya there.”

I contemplated for a moment ‘fore a cold aura of anxiety hit my stomach. “Hope my dad ain't home…”

“Why?”

“‘Cause, he… He might be ticked off that I’m so late comin’ home. He’ll use any excuse ‘ta start screechin’ at me. Any excuse to…” I squeezed my forearm, feeling the sore bruises underneath. He didn't deserve ‘ta know shit ‘bout me. This was only a ride. A one-time thing.

“Your dad hits ya?” he asked with a knowin’ voice, not even seemin’ surprised.

I shot ‘im a look ‘fore snappin’, “It’s none ‘a your business.” 

“Right, guess it’s not, but… I could either take you back to your abusive father, or I could take you to my house with me, and you could have a nice, warm meal with my family… Your choice, Princess.”

My brows raised in surprise ‘nd I studied ‘im. “Wait, you’re not seriously offerin’ me a spot at your dinner table, are you?! After all this time makin’ my days miserable?”

He snickered a bit ‘fore shruggin’. “Nah, after you stood up to me like that today, you got all my respect. I don't wanna mess with a chick who’s ready to rock my shit for even lookin’ at ‘er wrong. You have my word: from this day onward, we’re friends, y’know? And I’m gonna take care ‘a ya, ‘cause that’s what friends do for each other.”

Was it really this easy with him…? All I had to do was try ‘nd knock his lights out sooner ‘nd he woulda been mates with me? “So… you’re gonna stop bullyin’ me?”

“Yeah… But you’re tough. You coulda handled it anyway.”

“Right, so… We’re mates now, innit? That offer to go to your place still stand?”

He flashed me a smile before noddin’. “Hell yeah. Let’s hit the road, Alexandra.”

“Alex,” I blurted out.

“Huh?”

“I prefer Alex, y’know?”

“Oh, sure. Alex it is, then.”

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad…

*

When we pulled into the driveway of a modest two-story house in a quaint neighborhood, I was a little nervous, truthfully. These people obviously lived better than me. What if I made a fool ‘a myself? Or worse, what if I got kicked out ‘nd I was on my own in a part ‘a town I wasn't familiar with? 

Guess I’ll find out.

I made my way outta the car ‘nd shut the door behind me, starin’ ahead at the house. ‘Maggie looked my way 'fore chucklin’ a bit and shakin’ his head. 

“You look tense, Princess. What's on yer mind?” he asked me.

I sighed ‘nd glared at ‘im. I didn't like ‘im actin’ all chummy with me all the sudden just ‘cause he said we were mates now. “What’s it matter to ya? You’ve made me tense for months ‘nd hadn’t given two shits.”

He sauntered ‘ta my side ‘a the car ‘nd wore a lil’ smile, hands in ‘is pockets. “What do I gotta do to get in your good graces, huh?”

I crossed my arms over my chest ‘nd furrowed my brows at ‘im, givin’ it a genuine think ‘fore scratchin’ the idea from my mind. “Look, you can't do anything to change it. Gimme time, lemme see that you actually mean ‘ta grow ‘nd do right by me as mates, yeah? I don’t exactly trust you…”

He feigned a pout ‘fore puttin’ ‘is arm ‘round my shoulders ‘nd leadin’ me to ‘is front doorstep. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll show ya. I mean it, I'm gonna take care ‘a ya. That’s what friends’re for, Princess.”

“I told you ‘ta stop callin’ me that!” I shook ‘im offa me ‘nd clenched my fists at my sides. 

“I mean it with only good intentions now!” He turned ‘is house key in the lock ‘nd let me in. “Ladies first.”

I walked past ‘im as he gestured for me to step inside, scrunchin’ my nose up at the whole routine. Once I was inside, though, it smelled… like a home. The air wasn’t depressin’, empty, cold, or seethin’. It smelled ‘a good food ‘nd laughter, of family ‘nd warmth. I felt a sorta peace wash over me with the stark contrast between this ‘nd my usual settin’. I could tell, already, that none ‘a my previous worries would come true here.

“Formaggio, are you home?!” I heard a woman shout from some room ahead ‘a us.

“Yeah, Ma, it’s me!” ‘Maggie locked the door behind us. “Got a friend with me that needs a place to crash for the night!”

“A friend?!”

“Yeah, Ma, that’s what I said!”

I stood there awkwardly ‘fore ‘Maggie turned ‘ta look at me with an urgent expression. “How baked do I look?”

“‘Scuse me?” I cocked a brow at ‘is question.

“Oh, don’t tell me you didn't smell it in the car.” He then whispered, “My eyes; do I look high?”

I stared into ‘is green eyes for a second, ‘is pupils a bit more dilated than average ‘nd the walls of ‘is eyes a tad pink. “I mean… You don't not look high…”

“Merda… Hope she don't notice.”

“You smell of it, y’know.”

“You got, like… perfume or somethin’ in that bag of yours?”

“Huh?”

“Perfume. Y'know, the stuff that smells good. Got any?”

I rummaged through my school bag ‘nd retrieved a small bottle ‘a body spray. “Sure, but–”

He quickly took it from me ‘nd sprayed ‘imself twice or thrice before passin’ it back. I shoved it into my bag as I heard footsteps approachin’ from ahead. In the entrance of the hallway stood a tan-skinned woman with blown-out, gray hair, wearin’ a white bell-sleeved shirt ‘nd flare jeans. She looked to be in her 40s, with a pleasant face ‘nd a cool gleam in her eyes. Immediately, I was sure she was nothin’ like my own mum. 

“So, who’s your friend here?” she asked, the question more directed at me despite her wording.

“Oh, I’m, uh, Alex… Alex Mirtillo,” I answered with a hint of apprehension.

“Hm, you’re nothing like the people Formaggio usually brings around.” She approached me, a slight smile on her face.

‘Maggie looked down with an embarrassed glower on ‘is face. “Ma…”

“Would you care for something to eat, Alex? I made dinner not too long ago,” she offered.

I didn't wanna intrude but I was damn hungry. I hadn't eaten anything but some toast this mornin’. “I could go for some nosh, yeah.”

“Is that… a specific dish?” She pivoted her head at me in a confused manner.

Ah, right… I gestured dismissively. “No, no, just… what we Brits call ‘food’. So, yes, I’d fancy some supper.”

“Oh, no problem! So, that’s what that accent is, huh? I had a feeling.” She turned away, headed toward what I assumed with the kitchen, gesturin’ for us to follow. 

‘Maggie took the lead ‘nd I made my way in tow, lookin’ ‘round at the various family photos on the wall. There was one particular picture that was, as I’m sure, of ‘Maggie as a small child. He was a cute kid… He’d be cuter now if he wasn't such a dick.

“So how long have you two been friends?” his mum asked, platin’ my meal.

I, for one, stalled in my reply, but ‘Maggie picked up the slack for me, speakin’ up over my silence. “Few months now.”

“Yeah,” I choked out, “few months.”

“That’s nice,” she said. “Formaggio doesn't have a lot of girl friends come around.”

“Girlfriend? I’m not ‘is girlfriend,” I exclaimed without thinkin’.

‘Maggie nudged me, mutterin’ under his breath, “Two separate words, Alex. You’re my friend who’s a girl.”

Wow… I must seem like a knob. “Oh, sorry.”

His mum chuckled ‘nd turned ‘round, handin’ me a plate ‘a food with a warm expression on her face. “I hope you enjoy.”

“Thanks…”

“So, you need a place to sleep for the night?”

“Yeah, that'd be nice. ‘Maggie said it'd be okay. Is it?”

“I told you to stop callin’ me that!” ‘Maggie jabbed me in my side.

“And I told you to stop callin’ me ‘Princess’!” I retorted, catchin’ his wrist ‘nd squeezin’. If ‘is mum weren't here, I’d’ve twisted ‘is arm behind ‘is back. 

He quickly snatched ‘is hand away ‘nd flipped me ‘is middle finger.

His mum laughed at us before puttin’ a hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine. Eat, make yourself at home, rest up. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so sleep in if you feel like it.”

She was so nice… She had a kindness in her eyes that I’d never seen before ‘nd every word she said was smooth ‘nd genuine. She didn't even know a damn thing ‘bout me ‘nd she was already treatin’ me better than my folks ever had. I wished she was my mum.

I let out a nervous titter ‘nd cast my gaze low. “Damn, you’re nice… Really not excited ‘ta get back home that quickly.”

She turned her head. “Why?”

I don't know what came over me… Maybe I was thankful that, for once, someone was actually listening ‘ta me, or maybe I was desperate ‘ta escape that hell, but I rolled up my sleeves. My arms were covered in bruises from bein’ grabbed too hard, like hand-shaped stains. I also lifted up my shirt ‘ta show the bruises on my midriff. I really hated this… I hated bein’ this vulnerable. It made me feel ill ‘nd exposed. But I didn't wanna go back home…

I saw her lips pull back into a taut frown as she studied the marks left on me, ‘nd ‘Maggie seemed to examine them before lookin’ away. The room was silent for a moment, but eventually, ‘is mum spoke up again. 

“I won't make you go back there… But if your parents call the polizia, I can’t stop it. But I’ll make sure they know all about what’s happening to you.” She leaned down so that her face was level with mine, her hands on my cheeks. “I promise.”

She glanced over at ‘Maggie, a sort of silent message bein’ passed between ‘em when their eyes met. 

God… Not even ten minutes within our first meetin’ ‘nd I wanted ‘ta fall into her arms ‘nd cry like a sprog. I hope she didn't see me tearin’ up. “What’s your name?”

“Mare. It’s nice to meet you, Alex. You can live here as long as you like,” she said.

I sniffled a bit ‘fore noddin’. “Thank you… Really, no one has ever been this kind to me.”

“Of course. And I hope my son is treating you just as well.”

My eyes shifted towards ‘im ‘nd he looked like a deer caught in headlights. I grinned a bit. “He could use a reminder or two…” 

Mare placed her hands on her hips ‘nd scowled at her son. “What have you done to her?”

He gestured in defeat. “Nothin’, Ma! Water under the bridge!”

She grasped ‘is face, squintin’ at him. “What happened to your lip?”

“Just tripped and ate shit at school, no biggie.”

I snickered to myself. Yeah, right… He doesn't wanna admit he got beat up by a girl.

*

After I ate, Mare let me borrow some old clothes from her ‘nd take a shower, which, after my day, I needed. It felt nice ‘ta just relax without havin’ someone scream at me for ‘usin’ too much warm water’ . When I finished showerin’ ‘nd dryin’ off, I quickly dressed myself ‘nd exited the bathroom. 

I had gathered from bits ‘nd pieces of conversation ‘nd photographs on the wall that ‘Maggie was the middle of three children. He had an elder brother who was off ‘ta uni ‘nd a younger sister who was at a sleepover. I’d meet her sometime later I supposed. For now, I just wanted to rest.

Mare had gone off ‘ta bed but, after a lighthearted mother-son squabble, she’d convinced ‘Maggie to change ‘is sheets ‘nd tidy up ‘is room so I could take ‘is bed for the night. She said it was payback for ‘is teasin’ me. He, ‘course, wasn't too pleased with it but I liked the pettiness ‘nd hearin’ ‘im whinge about. He made a bed for ‘imself on the floor with blankets ‘n such. 

‘Is room was a trashy, punky teenage boy's dream: rock band posters plasterin’ the walls, nothin’ in its proper place, clashin’ colors, a skateboard in the corner, ‘nd faded stickers litterin’ all the furniture. Tch… It was actually kinda cool. Reminded me of my own room back home. I’d never tell ‘im that, though. 

‘Maggie was layin’ on the floor with a satin scarf wrapped ‘round ‘is locs, starin’ up at ‘is ceiling as I braided my hair back. He stole glances every now ‘nd then, ‘nd I could tell he wanted to say somethin’ but didn't know how ‘ta start… Which was crazy, considerin’ he’s the biggest loudmouth I’d ever met. 

“Out with it, ‘Maggie,” I said. “I can tell you’re itchin’ to yap.”

He laughed a lil’ ‘fore sighin’. “For someone who don’t trust me, you sure are sleepin’ in my bed and plannin’ to live in my house.”

“Correction: livin’ in your mum’s house.”

“Oh, c’mon! You don’t like me even a little bit?”

“Why would I?” I looked down at ‘im. “You’ve done nothin’ but fuck with me ever since I started at this school!”

“Hey, I wasn't that mean to ya! I’m a lot worse to everyone else!” He sat up.

“Oh, so I’m ‘sposed ‘ta be thankful?!”

“You don’t gotta be ‘thankful’,  but it does mean I like you!"

I paused, starin’ ‘im down. “What…?”

“Yeah, I like you well enough. You’re new and interesting,” he explained, kneelin’ closer to the bed. “Your little angry face is so funny, and damn do you got some fire in ya!” He grinned all wide like a fool. “You’re excitin’, y’know? I like gettin’ a rise outta ya. And I like…”

He looked away, his expression droppin’. I turned my head curiously ‘nd sat closer ‘ta the edge of the bed. “Go on.”

“I like… talkin’ to ya. I don't always exactly know how to express that in a nice way, y’know? I like… when you tell me ‘bout your day in the middle of me teasin’ you. You make me laugh, you put me in my place. And I think you’re…” His cheeks began to deepen in hue. “You’re really pretty… Especially when you’re mean.”

My eyes widened before I, upon instinct, punched ‘im in the shoulder, ‘nd he cried out a bit. “Shut up, asshole!”

He rubbed his arm. “The hell was that for?! I was bein’ nice to ya!”

“Yeah, so shut up!”

“Ya don't want me bein’ mean, ya don't want me bein’ nice– make up your mind, woman!”

“I’m not used ‘ta people bein’ nice ‘ta me…” I admitted.

He shook ‘is head ‘nd reached for my hands. “That’s a damn shame, y’know… I shoulda been nicer to ya sooner. I’m sorry.”

I snatched my hands away, again, on instinct, my nose wrinklin’ at ‘is words. However, it softened my heart. I kept my head turned away as much as I could, but I kept bein’ drawn in by ‘is pitiful eyes. I eventually relented ‘nd grumbled.

“I… forgive you. So long as you behave yourself ‘round me from here on out.” I crossed my arms over my chest. 

He nodded, smilin’. “Deal! You’ve got yourself a deal, Princess. I’ll treat ya like royalty, just as you deserve.”

He held his hand out ‘ta me, ‘nd after rollin’ my eyes, I let ‘im take mine. ‘Is lips brushed against my knuckles, a wave ‘a electricity shootin’ up my arm ‘nd strikin’ me in the heart. I felt a weird mix ‘a flattered and angry. Did he…?

“That gentlemanly enough for ya?” he teased, lookin’ up at me with a sly gaze.

Despite myself, I enjoyed bein’ treated like this… No one’d ever put me first or wanted ‘ta make me feel special. It was actually a great feelin’. 

“Don’t push your luck with me,” I gruffed.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone. Goodnight, Princess. Sweet dreams,” he again teased ‘fore layin’ ‘is head back down on ‘is pillow. 

I huffed ‘nd laid down myself, coverin’ myself with the fresh blanket that’d been pulled out for me. Despite bein’ in unfamiliar territory, I didn’t find it hard ‘ta relax. At least I wasn’t at home. At least I was safe here. At least I wouldn't wake up ‘ta my parents fightin’ or my father draggin’ me outta bed. 

For a guy who was really easy ‘ta punch, ‘Maggie sure was makin’ my life easier all the sudden. 

I was just ‘bout ‘ta finally doze off when I heard this awful racket next ‘ta me. I jolted up ‘nd turned over, starin’ down at the pest beside me on the floor. He was sawin’ logs over there ‘nd it was gratin’ my nerves. I gritted my teeth ‘nd tried ‘ta block out the noise by coverin’ my ears with my pillow, but it was no use. I was too uncomfortable ‘ta sleep. 

Eventually I growled under my breath ‘nd reached over the bedside towards ‘Maggie, but I was too far away. I got closer to the edge of the bed with my arm outstretched, closer, closer, tryin’ ‘ta turn ‘im over or somethin’ . Closer, closer… 

Too close.

In my attempt to shut ‘im up, I’d actually fallen off the bed ‘nd onto the floor, right on ‘is chest, which promptly woke ‘im up. He startled for only a second ‘fore wearin’ an irritating-to-look-at smirk ‘nd lookin’ down at me. 

“Heh, if ya wanted to cuddle, ya coulda just said so, Princess,” he joked in a sleepy, husky voice.

I was partially fumin’ ‘nd my nose filled with embarrassment. I lifted my head just enough ‘ta look ‘im in the eyes, my brows knotted. “I wasn't tryin’ to! I was tryin’ ‘ta roll you over so you’d stop snorin’! You were keepin’ me up!”

He put his arm ‘round my waist, rubbin’ the small of my back as he did so. It was a comfortin’ gesture, sure, but I wasn't used to affection ‘nd I had a hard time dealin’. I tensed up ‘nd frowned at ‘im, meetin’ ‘is eyes with an intense gaze.

“Sorry, yeah, shoulda warned ya that I snored,” he finally said with a yawn in ‘is voice. “Usually I’d lay on my stomach and that kinda stops it, but it’s too uncomfortable to do that on the floor.”

I thought for a moment ‘fore rollin’ my eyes. “Oh, Christ…” I had an idea. I got up ‘nd back into bed, sittin’ on the side closer ‘ta the wall. With a disinterested expression, I patted the bed. “Bring your pillow.

He sat up, bewildered at my offer ‘nd starin’ blankly at me like a fool. Only after I snapped my fingers did he switch gears ‘nd do as I said, grabbin’ ‘is pillow ‘nd joinin’ me. Despite the fact that I really didn’t wanna be all that close to this guy, I laid down anyway ‘nd tried ‘ta play it off like I wasn't anxious myself. He let out a satisfied sigh when he could finally rest properly on ‘is stomach, ‘is head turned towards me.

“Hey, thanks for this,” he murmured, seemin’ like he could fall back ‘ta sleep at any moment. 

“Y–yeah, no problem,” I stammered, tryin’ not to look at ‘im.

He closed ‘is eyes once more ‘nd draped an arm over me, snugglin’ closer ‘til he was basically against me. I knew this was mostly ‘cause the bed was small ‘nd he didn't wanna fall off, but… I hate that I felt a little fluttery upon ‘im doin’ so. I tried ‘ta just push through it. I can't lie ‘nd say part of me had wished for so long that he’d knock it off with that bullyin’ shit ‘nd treat me right like this. ‘Nd maybe I thought he was a little cute… Ugh, God, that made me wanna punch ‘is teeth in.

He seemed the affectionate typa bloke. Is this what my life was gonna be like so long as he was in it? Is this what I was resigned to? I dunno… Maybe I could get used ‘ta it. He certainly had already.

I turned over on my side ‘ta get comfortable, facin’ ‘im now. He seemed ‘ta be sleepin’ soundly already. After a moment’s hesitation, I put my arm ‘round ‘im ‘nd held ‘im closer. I'm not sure what my deal was. Maybe I’d been touch-starved for so long that I was takin’ in everything I could get. Maybe I had a bit of a soft spot for ‘im ‘cause of all he was doin’ for me, I dunno…

I guess it wouldn't hurt ‘ta learn ‘ta love somebody.

*

Three months. It took three whole months for my parents ‘ta bother tryin’ ‘ta figure out where I was. In their eyes, I’d up ‘nd disappeared, ‘nd they hardly blinked. I coulda been dead in a ditch somewhere, ‘nd if I was, no one woulda found me, all ‘cause these people didn't care enough ‘ta report me missin’.

I was in the middle ‘a class when a voice came over the intercom, callin’ me down ‘ta the administration office. Everyone jeered as if I’d gotten in trouble, ‘nd far as I knew, I had. I grabbed my things ‘nd slunk down to the headmaster’s office, a wary energy ‘bout me. When I stepped up to the receptionist’s desk ‘nd told her my name, I saw two police officers step out from the principal’s office ‘nd begin takin’ purposed steps towards me. 

Oh, shit…

I didn’t give myself time ‘ta think or get caught, I just started runnin’ ‘cause I knew where I was goin’ next if they did catch up. I sprinted down the halls as they chased me, pantin’, tryin’ ‘ta ignore the tears in my eyes. I didn't wanna go back there. If my bruises hadn't faded, I’d show ‘em, but I know they had ‘nd they wouldn't believe me if I told ‘em my folks were abusive. I turned a corner, just outta sight ‘a the cops.

All those ramblin’ thoughts in my head were cut short when I felt someone grab me ‘nd yank me to the side. Next thing I knew, I was in a storage closet, face to face with ‘Maggie, who looked just as concerned as I was. I tried ‘ta catch my breath but I didn't wanna be too loud when the pigs passed the door. I couldn't quit my heavy breathin’, though, ‘nd ‘Maggie quickly covered my mouth with ‘is hand. Usually, I’d punch ‘im for thinkin’ ‘ta touch me so suddenly, but this time, I was thankful.

Booted footsteps dashed past us ‘nd the sound began ‘ta fade as the two officers yelled ‘ta each other in Italian.

Finally, ‘Maggie let go ‘a me, ‘nd I was given the chance ‘ta talk. 

“H–how did you–?” I mumbled.

“I was cuttin’ class- per usual -and saw the cop cars pull up. When your name was called, I knew,” he answered. 

The weight ‘a the world came down on me ‘nd all the troubles that I’d been puttin’ off thinkin’ ‘bout crashed like a wave. I began ‘ta sob ‘nd I couldn't control anything that came outta my mouth next.

“They’re gonna take me back there. They’re gonna take me back ‘nd they won't listen ‘ta me if I say my parents are shit! My dad’s gonna beat my ass! He might even kill me! I don't wanna go back, please don't make me go back, please, I wanna stay with you. ‘Maggie, I’m scared. I’m scared all the time. Please don’t let ‘em take me,” I blubbered, my speech devolvin’ into incoherent whimpers.

He didn't question me, nor did he view me in a way that made me feel ashamed. He just pulled me close to ‘im ‘nd let me sob into ‘is shoulder, gently caressin’ my back ‘nd shushin’ me. I know I needed ‘ta be quiet, but I couldn't’ve been on my own. Only after he hugged me did I simmer down long enough for ‘im ‘ta speak.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. And neither is my ma. We’re gonna take care of ya, I promise.” He squeezed me tighter. “Even if they find us, I won’t let ‘em hurt you. They’re gonna have to get through me first.”

“How’re we gonna get outta this mess?” I asked with a weak voice.

“Just follow me,” he instructed, then held my face in ‘is hands, a stern look on ‘is own. “And don’t hesitate no matter what. If years of delinquency’ve taught me anything, it’s that hesitation only gets in the way.”

I nodded. “I–I understand.”

He cracked open the closet door ‘nd peeked outta it. The halls were silent. He didn't hesitate, takin’ me by the hand ‘nd pullin’ me along. We silently ran ‘ta the front doors ‘a the school ‘nd out into the student parkin’ lot. It wouldn't take long ‘fore someone spotted us. We made a bee line for ‘is car, out by the back edge of the parkin’ lot like usual. Every lil’ sound nearly sent me over the edge, ‘nd I was hyper-aware everything ‘round me.

We threw ourselves into the car, scramblin’ ‘ta fasten our seatbelts, which I’d nagged ‘im into rememberin’ after all this time. He started the ignition ‘nd quickly backed up, nearly whippin’ the car ‘nd peelin’ out faster than legally allowed. We sped down the road, though, in the opposite direction of ‘is house.

I began ‘ta feel my nerves eat at me, like I wanted ‘ta rip my skin off. “Uh, ‘Maggie, where’re we goin’?”

He gripped the steerin’ wheel so hard ‘is knuckles turned white, a determined expression settlin’ on ‘is face. “To your parent’s house.”

“What?!” I screamed, my nails diggin’ into the leather seat. “You just said I didn't have to go back! You said you wouldn't let 'em hurt me!”

“And I meant it, Alex!”

“Then why the hell are we goin’ there?!” I tried ‘ta swipe at ‘is hands so he’d swere the car offa the road, but he swatted them away.

“God, would you just trust me for a second?! I’ve been doin’ right by you so far, yeah? I’ve got a plan, I’m not gonna let anything happen to ya!”

I had never seen ‘im so angry. I didn't think he was angry at the situation, no… I think he was upset that I acted like I didn't trust ‘im. For months, he ‘nd ‘is family’d taken care ‘a me. For months, he’d provided for me, bent over backwards for me, cleaned up his act for me, even gotten a job just ‘ta prove ‘ta me that he could provide… He gave me all that he had ‘ta give. And in a moment ‘a panic, I’m sure it seemed like I thought none of that mattered. 

“‘Maggie, I’m– Why are we goin’ back there?” I asked in a quieter voice.

“To prove to ‘em that you’re still alive, tell ‘em to eat shit, and pack some of your things in the car so you never have to see ‘em again.” He stepped on gas, rippin’ down the road.

“My dad’s gonna beat my ass, you don't even know! He won’t let me leave!”

“He won’t! ‘Cause I won’t let ‘im! I told you, I know what I’m doin’!”

“‘Maggie–!”

I was cut off when he held my face in ‘is hand, forcin’ me to hold still ‘nd look 'im in the eyes. “Just trust me.”

His tone didn't allow room for argument. I’d never seen a man look so sure ‘a ‘imself in my life. It’s like he’d done this before. I wasn't gonna fight ‘im on it anymore. I’ve gotta trust ‘im.

“Okay,” I whispered, noddin’. “What're you gonna do if he lifts a finger at me?”

He let me go ‘nd stared ahead through the windshield, his green eyes filled with somethin’ vicious. “Let’s just say I learned a lot 'bout fightin’ from my old man.”

I hadn't heard a lot about ‘Maggie’s father, nor had I seen any photos of ‘im hangin’ in the house. I figured Mare was a single mum ‘cause she didn't wear a weddin’ ring ‘nd her room was only furnished for one. But, after rememberin’ that ‘Maggie’d recognized I was bein’ beat on ‘fore I needed to say as much, combined with all this, I put the pieces together.

“You were also–”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, refusin’ to lookit me. “But this isn’t ‘bout me.”

That made a lot more sense now… I leaned my head back ‘nd closed my eyes. “I trust you.”

A silence fell between us, the loud hum of the engine fillin’ the air, but I could sense a change. I’d said the right thing.

When we’d made it ‘ta my dodgy neighborhood, the breaks squealed to a stop alongside the curb outside my rundown house. I was so scared I was sure I’d hurl, but I was lettin’ ‘Maggie take the lead. He got outta the car ‘nd I did the same, ‘nd he only began ‘ta march ‘ta the front door when he knew I was behind ‘im. I wasn't a wuss or a pansy- I was tough as nails -but in this moment, I was only a scared kid, so I reached out ‘ta hold ‘is hand, ‘nd he didn't deny me. He held it back tightly. 

‘Is free fist pounded on the door, ‘nd if looks could kill, whoever answered it first would be offed by ‘is stare. I could hear my dad yell for my mum ‘ta get the door from inside- typical of ‘em -’nd soon enough, it opened. All I saw when I looked at her was a shell of a woman, her tan skin almost sickly pale, covered in bruises she tried ‘ta keep hidden. Her eyes ‘nd cheeks were sunken in, heavy bags restin’ between ‘em. Her dark hair was limp ‘nd stringy. She’d always looked depressed ‘nd gaunt, but even then, I hardly remembered the woman in front ‘a me. Her eyes widened when she saw me, though, ‘nd she called out ‘ta my dad. That’s when the pit in my stomach got worse.

I heard a curse from inside the house, then the sounds of weighted, lumberin’ footsteps approachin’. ‘Maggie, didn't waste any time steppin’ in fronta me, creatin’ more distance between me ‘nd my parents. 

My dad appeared from behind the ratty screen door, clad in a sloppy wife-beater ornamented with mysterious stains, unkempt facial hair, sparse hair on ‘is head, ‘nd a boozy bottle in ‘is burly hand. I hated that man. That man filled me with so much venom that, if I were a snake, I’d be among the deadliest in the world. Even the sight ‘a ‘im brought anger to my chest, but also an overwhelmin’ fear.

“Alexandra, come inside! It’s been three months! Where the hell’ve you been?!” my father yelled, his speech a smidge slurred.

“I’m just here ‘ta collect my things,” I replied in a quiverin’ voice. “Won't be long, then I’m outta your hair.”

I could tell my mum didn't give a damn whether I came ‘er went, 'cept for she’d have ‘ta take all my dad’s beatins’ without havin’ someone else for ‘im ‘ta focus on. She’s probably the one that called the pigs on me anyway. 

“Who the fuck is this?” My dad pointed ‘is finger at ‘Maggie, who hadn't said a word yet.

“He’s here ‘ta help me get my stuff,” I stated, tryin’ ‘ta hide the shiver in my words. 

“Is that what this is? You run off with some boy without even a call?!”

“Don't act like you care!” I spat out. “I called! It took you lot three months ‘ta even worry ‘bout my bein’ missin’!”

My mum looked up at my dad, murmurin’ with a hollow tone that she’d always had since I could remember. “We should just let ‘er get ‘er things. She’ll realize this was a mistake ‘nd come back. Just let ‘er go.”

After she said that, she gave me a look that I can only describe as self-sacrificial ‘nd knowin’... She intended ‘ta be the martyr, ‘nd, for once, seemed like she wanted the best for me. She wanted me gone, away from my dad, away from this house… I’m unsure ‘a why or how she suddenly cared enough ‘bout me to, for once, stand up ‘ta my dad in her own way, but I retained the weight of the gleam in her eyes ‘nd silently thanked her with my own.

This, however, didn’t last long, 'cause a blur of fleshy color obscured her face in an instant as she was struck by my dad’s hand, fallin’ to the ground. He then swung the screen door open ‘nd reached past ‘Maggie, grabbin’ me by my hair ‘nd pullin’ me towards him. I cried out as he jostled me by my head, ‘nd I was sure my scalp would start bleedin’ soon. With his drunken strength, he’d dragged me a few centimeters closer, close enough ‘ta land a few blows on me.

I thought I was a goner, but the next second I felt the resistance disappear after a sharp tug ‘ta my hair. When I looked up after takin’ a frantic step or two back, I saw my dad clenchin’ a fistful ‘a my hair, ‘nd the glint of what I now knew ‘ta be a blade in ‘Maggie’s hand. He’d… cut my hair ‘ta free me? Maybe this guy was smarter than I gave ‘im credit for. 

A real standoff between the two men had begun, ‘nd as I wiped some blood from my lip, I knew I had ‘ta be ready ‘ta act at any given moment. ‘Maggie was braver than me, ‘nd I only hoped ta’ have some ‘a his grit in the future, but now was no time ‘ta stop ‘nd admire. A real storm was brewin’ here, ‘nd I really wished I’d brought my knife.

My dad was a big man, ‘nd an angry one at that, but ‘Maggie was a juvenile delinquent with a knife ‘nd sober, unlike ‘im. I wasn't exactly surprised when they began ‘ta scrap in the yard, but I had ‘ta trust ‘Maggie could hold ‘is own, so I rushed into the house in order ‘ta quickly pack up my things. He provided the perfect distraction for me 'ta get in ‘nd out.

I scampered past my mum. I didn't have time ‘ta check on her. I knew she took a hit for me ‘nd I couldn't waste it. I burst into my small, cramped room ‘nd grabbed the nearest empty bags in my closet, fillin’ ‘em up with all the clothes I could. Another smaller bag was where I’d tossed my valuables ‘n all. I already didn't have much so it didn't take me long ‘ta bring with me what I cared for most. I didn't wanna leave ‘Maggie out there for more than I had ‘ta, so I gave a quick, solemn partin’ glance to all of my belongings that I couldn't bring with me ‘nd hurried out.

When I returned ‘ta the front ‘a the house, I could see, through the screen door, that my dad had ‘Maggie pinned on the ground, despite ‘is best efforts. My mum wasn't doin’ shit ‘ta help now that she'd picked herself up– not like I expected her to anyway. 

I didn't have ‘ta think. I knew what ‘ta do. No hesitation.

I opened the coat closet, retrieved the old baseball bat we kept for home security, ‘nd dropped my things on the porch.

I’ll show that old drunkard.

I marched toward ‘em, lifted the bat ‘bove my head, ‘nd took a wide swing, feelin’ the wood crack against my father’s skull. He grunted ‘nd held ‘is head, givin’ ‘Maggie enough time ‘ta flip ‘im over ‘nd beat ‘is face in. Finally…

I examined the bat. It was stained with a spot ‘a fresh, sticky blood… I’d be sure ‘ta lacquer it so I could immortalize this sweet, vindictive moment forever. 

Eventually, the beatin’ had gone on for long enough, ‘nd my dad was unconscious ‘nd limp with a battered, swollen, red ‘nd purple face. ‘Maggie’d gotten carried away ‘bd began breakin’ the skin of ‘is knuckles against the old man’s face. Despite how much I thought this was fittin’ for an evil man like 'im, I pulled ‘Maggie back by ‘is shoulders ‘nd forced ‘im off. Finally, he came to again, ‘nd he looked at me with pin needle pupils, fumblin’ out a comment.

“It can’t be helped… I had to–”

He had bruises ‘nd cuts on ‘is face ‘nd arms, but as far as I could see, he seemed otherwise fine. He scrambled ‘ta hold my face in ‘is hands, inspectin’ me ‘nd my minor injuries with a worried-sick grimace.

“Y–you okay, Alex?” he stammered hurriedly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I returned. “‘Nd you? He didn't get you too bad, innit?”

“Nah, nah, nothin’ I haven’t taken from my own old man before.”

There was an odd moment where we both smiled inappropriately at the twisted situation, just glad to see the other alive ‘nd well. Eventually, he let out a shudderin’ breath ‘fore collapsin’ into me ‘nd wrappin’ ‘is arms ‘round me. This time, though, I didn't give 'im a hard time. I hugged ‘im back, still grippin’ the bat tightly in my hand ‘nd makin’ sure to avoid hittin’ ‘im. 

‘Is hold on me was tight ‘nd desperate, ‘nd I couldn't tell exactly what he was tryin’ to get across, but it felt like, ‘ta me, a mix of “I’m sorry” ‘nd “I’m glad you’re okay” . 

“You lot should get outta here,” my mum interjected. “He might wake up soon ‘nd this time, he’ll merk ya.”

I broke away ‘nd turned around ‘ta see that she’d brought my bags out to the yard for me, a strange, detached look in her eyes. I nodded ‘nd looked at ‘Maggie. I didn't necessarily need words ‘ta communicate with ‘im. Ever since we’d gotten closer, we just clicked. But he was pickin’ up what I puttin’ down ‘nd began luggin’ my bags ‘ta the car. He let me alone long enough ‘ta say goodbye ‘ta my mum.

I stared at her for a moment with a conflicted expression, unable ‘ta find the words to say. 

“I’ll call off the missin’ persons filing… Y’ain’t missin’, you just didn't wanna be found,” she began, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m sorry it had ‘ta be this way, Mum, but I can’t stay here,” I finally said, takin’ a step towards her.

“I gave you an out, didn't I? You think I didn't think ‘bout leavin’ every day? I would if I could’ve, but not alla us can take the easy way out.”

I felt a burning sensation rise in my throat. It was a mix of fury ‘nd grief… How dare she! To take a drunk’s beatins’ ‘nd screamin’ for eighteen years wasn't the “easy way out”! 

“You took the easy way out every damn day when you refused ‘ta leave 'im or get us help! When you just watched ‘im beat on me without a care in the world!” I shouted. “I stayed put, I never went ‘ta the police or teachers at school ‘bout it! I never said a damn word ‘ta no one! I held out hope that we could be a family one day but that was never gonna happen, was it?!” 

I don't think she cared that I had tears in my eyes. She never did… She just scoffed. “Life ain’t as simple as you want it 'ta be, Al. You wouldn't get it. You don’t understand the position I’m in.”

“I got it enough to get the fuck outta here when the opportunity presented itself… I can only hope that one day you do the same.”

“All men do is hurt ya. You might be gettin’ away from your father, but he’s only one man. There’s a whole world of ‘em out there.” She gestured to ‘Maggie. “Even that one there is gonna hurt ya one day.”

“You couldn’t pick a good man outta a bunch, even if he was wearin’ a sign, Mum! Y’don’t know shit ‘bout me or him! ‘Nd I really ain't too keen on takin’ your advice none.”

“It's your funeral.”

I clicked my tongue ‘nd blinked away some tears, rollin’ my eyes. “No, Mum, this is the start ‘a my life. It’s your funeral.”

“Get goin’ now, ‘fore he wakes up.”

I turned to leave ‘fore lookin’ back at her. “You ain't gonna tell me you love me?”

“I think we both know that y’don’t love me either, Alex.”

I felt a painful boulder settle in my stomach once she said that, but she wasn't wrong. I never had her love, ‘nd she never had mine. I simply nodded ‘nd spoke through stiff lips, “Take care ‘a yourself now.”

“I hope you grow up ‘ta be everything we’re not.”

Those were the last words my mum ever said ‘ta me. I like ‘ta think it was her way ‘a sayin’ she cared for me some, even if that was probably a load ‘a rubbish like most ‘a the other things she yakked ‘bout.

When I got back ‘ta the car, ‘Maggie was already behind the wheel ‘nd waitin’ on me. I think he was more worried for me than he was for ‘imself. I got in ‘nd shut the door, slidin’ my bat beside me, against my leg, careful ‘a smudgin’ the blood on it.

‘Maggie cleared his throat. “What’d she say to y–?” 

“Just drive,” I said, not elaboratin’. “Just… drive.”

He didn't question it. He just checked behind us ‘fore pullin’ out into the road again.

*

When we made it back home, bags hangin’ offa our arms, we were plumb exhausted. We dropped the bags ‘nd took a long look at each other ‘fore I patted ‘is back ‘nd let out a relieved huff. 

“Ya did good out there, Princess,” he praised, a weak smile on ‘is face.

“Y’did better…”

We laughed quietly to ourselves, but our celebration was cut short when we heard Mare comin’ down the hall.

“Formaggio?! Alex?!” she rang out.

“Bollocks…” I mumbled, gettin’ ready for her motherly fussin’.

“Che palle…" he added in a similar tone.

When she saw our sorry states, she rushed over ‘nd began frettin’ over us. “Where the hell have you two been?! It’s late! I was worried sick!”

“We got caught up–” ‘Maggie began, rubbin’ ‘is sore arm.

She gasped ‘nd inspected our respective wounds. “How'd this happen?!”

“Ma, it’s nothin’–”

“Don't lie ‘ta your mum, ‘Maggie,” I interrupted ‘fore lookin’ at her. “We had a scuffle with my folks, but good news is: we’re fine, I’ve got all my things from my old place, the police won't be comin’ for me no more, ‘nd ‘Maggie taught my sodding dad a lesson.”

Mare was hard ‘ta read for a moment, ‘nd it’s like she couldn't decide if she wanted ‘ta shout or faint, but she ended up pullin’ us both into a tight hug. We were both rigid upon contact, but we eventually let in ‘nd hugged her back.

That was also short-lived, though…

When she pulled away, she pinched our cheeks ‘nd began scoldin’ us for bein’ prats.

“Why would you two take it upon yourself to go and do something so dangerous?! You could’ve gotten killed! You couldn't have waited for me?!”

“The pigs came ‘ta school lookin’ for me–” I was cut off.

“So you call me! You don’t go off and do something so reckless! Do you even understand how badly this could’ve gone?!”

“I had it handled, Ma! It’s not like I ain’t never had a grown man beat me up–” ‘Maggie stopped his sentence when Mare squished is face in her hands.

“Formaggio, that doesn't mean you throw yourself to the wolves! You might be eighteen, but you’re still a kid, you’re still my baby, you still need my help . Both of you do. And just because your father was an awful man doesn't mean you need to keep proving yourself!”

He looked down ‘fore holdin’ his mum’s wrists ‘nd leanin’ into her touch. “I–I’m sorry, Ma, I–”

I could tell her words hit ‘im deep, ‘nd I placed a steady hand on ‘is back for support. Mare hugged her boy ‘fore kissin’ ‘im on the head. She then turned her attention toward me.

Just as she was ‘bout ‘ta speak, ‘Maggie’s lil’ sister, Amarena, came boundin’ into the room, happy as could be. Her carefree expression morphed into a horrified one when she saw us. She rushed over 'nd looked me over first.

She was a little girl ‘a warm skin, with grayish micro braids in her hair, ‘nd the same green eyes as ‘Maggie. ‘Nd right now, they were filled with worry.

“Alex! What happened to your pretty hair?!” ‘Rena held my hand.

I put on a calm smile for the sprog ‘nd crouched to her level, pattin’ her head. “Nothin’ for you to worry your bitty head 'bout, innit? Just felt like a lil’ change, is all.”

“What happened to you and Fra?"

Now this I had 'ta think harder 'bout. I didn't need her ‘ta know the full truth yet. I was spinnin’ out, though, ‘nd ‘Maggie recognized that, so he picked up the slack once more. He lifted the kiddie in ‘is arms with a bloody smile. 

“We went for a ride on my skateboard and crashed a few times on the pavement, it couldn't be helped.”

She shook her head. “You should be more careful!”

As ‘Maggie set ‘Rena down, Mare crossed her arms over her chest ‘nd nodded. “Yeah, you should be more careful.”

Once 'Rena'd gone upstairs, I rubbed the back 'a my neck ‘nd got back to the real matter at hand. “Look, the bloody cops put a lil’ urgency in us. Perhaps we got a bit carried away, but the nightmare is over now, innit? We ain’t gotta worry ‘bout my folks no more.”

‘Maggie stared at the ground with a troubled expression, not respondin’. I nudged him ‘nd he finally cleared his throat ‘nd acted proper. “Oh, yeah. All good here. We nipped it in the bud. No reason to worry now.”

I glared at ‘im for a second. He said it all weird… Mare’s voice got my attention again, though.

“Basta così… Fine. But you both had better tell me where exactly you’re going at any given moment from now on. And pick up when I call you.”

“But I don't got a dog,” I said.

They both looked at me with confused expressions.

I swept my hair outta my face ‘nd sighed. “ ‘Dog ‘nd bone’ is Cockney for ‘phone’ .”

Mare chuckled a bit. “We’ll get you one.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah… Don’t need one of my little ducklings without a way to call for help.” She smiled ‘nd pulled me into a side hug.

I couldn't resist her nurturin’ warmth ‘nd sweet nature, so I leaned my head against her shoulder. “D’awww…”

“Now, let’s get that new haircut of yours cleaned up.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, not sure what all it looks like… Didn’t have the best hairdresser.” I shot ‘Maggie a sneer.

He rolled ‘is eyes. “I got the job done, didn't I?!”

I chuckled ‘nd broke away from Mare long enough ‘ta cup ‘is face in my hand ‘nd finally pay ‘im a real, genuine compliment. “You did… You’re my hero, y’know that?”

I think I saw ‘is eyes sparkle from my words ‘nd I could feel ‘is cheeks get warmer. “You really think so…?”

“I know so. I wouldn’t be safe ‘nd sound if not for you.”

He pulled me into another hug, hand holdin’ the back ‘a my head. I even felt ‘im kiss my cheek ‘fore he spoke 'ta me. “Anything for you, Princess. I mean it. For the rest of my life.”

I was filled with such an ugly kinda joy that it made me wanna beat ‘is arse myself. I couldn't help but squeeze ‘im back for just a second ‘fore shovin’ ‘im off. “God, get a life you bloody sap!”

He only laughed at my prickliness, though. He always did. I think he loved me better for it.

*

Mare was quick ‘ta work on my hair, cuttin’ it ‘ta make it look more even ‘nd purposeful. She brought me up ‘ta her bathroom with a chair, settin’ me by the bathtub so we made less of a mess. I kinda liked the punky, uneven cut that 'Maggie’d given me, though, so I asked her ‘ta make it more jagged ‘nd edgy once the initial cut was done.

As she was snippin’ away, we made conversation. She was always easy ‘ta talk to.

“You miffed at us much?” I asked out loud, starin’ ahead as I sat still. 

“Miffed?” she repeated back ‘ta me in a puzzled manner.

“Mad. Are you mad at us?”

“Mad? No…” She clipped another piece ‘a hair off. “More like frustrated, relieved, concerned… The typical mom things.”

“Not typical of my mum.”

“What’s that?”

“She couldn't be arsed with my bein’ missin’. She only cared that my dad didn’t have no one else to beat on but her.”

“Oh, giogia… You’re worth worrying over. I'm sorry your parents were too blind to see that.”

“You’ve been more a mum to me these past few months than mine ever had in eighteen years.” 

“Then I’m honored to show you what it’s like to be treasured by a mom.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

She set the scissors down ‘nd stepped in fronta me, sittin’ on the edge of the tub. “I may not have been in your life forever, but you’re like a daughter to me no matter what. And when you need a mom in your life, I’ll be here for you. Even when…” She wore a cheeky grin. “Even when you and Formaggio go off and marry, and I'm just an old lady with some cats and an empty nest."

My heart was poundin’ in my chest, in awe at her words, but I was also flustered by her later comments. “I'm not gonna marry ‘im! I–I don’t even like ‘im all that much,” I lied, castin’ my eyes aside. 

She let out a warm chuckle. “Sure… Keep telling yourself that. But I’ve been around long enough to know a thing or two.”

“Sure, whatever…” I then got back ‘ta the point. “So, you’re sayin’ that I’m a part ‘a the family?”

“Of course, you are! And you always will be, no matter what.” She smoothed my hair down ‘fore carresin’ my cheek with her thumb. “You can come to me about anything at any time, and I’ll always worry for you and do right by you. That’s what a mother is for.”

I began to tear up. God, I hated how much of a crybaby I could be. “Really, I–I don’t know what ‘ta say…”

“You don't have to say anything, giogia … Just promise that you won't go out and do anything to make me worry.”

I nodded ‘nd wiped my eyes, leanin’ forward ‘nd restin’ on her. “I promise…”

I never did live up ‘ta that promise.

*

Since 'Maggie's older brother was off ‘ta uni, ‘is room was unoccupied, ‘nd Mare had put me up in there some time ago. It was there, one night some weeks later, that I reflected on the recent changes in my life.

Mare, for one, was one ‘a the greatest changes I coulda ever asked for.

I’d never known such motherly energy in my life. I honestly thought it a tall tale, but she showed me it was real. She was everything I wished my mum was ‘ta me. She had an abusive husband but left ‘im ‘nd gave her children better lives for it. ‘Nd she was still so kind ‘nd sensitive. I wished ‘ta be like her when I grew up. After all, my mum told me ‘ta be everything she wasn't, and Mare was the antithesis ‘a my mum.

Usually ‘Maggie got home from work ‘round 9 PM 'er so, but tonight, I didn't hear the front door open ‘til ‘round midnight. It was curious, sure, but I wasn’t gonna bother with it. That was ‘is business. Still, though, it made me wonder what he was doin’ out so late. 

I was just ‘bouta fall asleep some time after when I heard my bedroom door creak open, ‘nd I lifted my head up ‘ta see ‘Maggie steppin’ inside. I could tell immediately that somethin’ was weighin’ on ‘im. He looked… like a different man. I didn't know how ‘ta explain it.

“‘Maggie…?” I croaked out in a hoarse voice.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me, Princess. I didn’t wake ya up, did I?” he replied, steppin’ closer.

“No, not really… What’s your deal?”

He kept ‘is eyes on the floor, unable ‘ta really answer me. I sat up now ‘nd raised a brow at ‘im. 

“‘Maggie–”

“Just had to tie up a few loose ends.”

“With?”

“Doesn't matter. Somethin’ personal. I took care of it.”

‘Is voice was somber ‘nd no-nonsense. He wasn’t bein’ sly or cheeky, unlike ‘is usual self. I hadn’t ever seen a side to ‘im like this before. It was a lil’ chillin’ ‘n eerie, ‘ta be honest. But I was too tired ‘ta keep on ‘nd he didn't seem ‘ta be in the mood ‘ta talk anyway.

“So, what're you doin’ in here?” I asked finally, gettin’ ‘ta the point.

“Couldn't sleep… Was wonderin’ if I could maybe sleep with you tonight,” he responded, voice low.

There really was somethin’ peculiar ‘bout 'im tonight, but the only constant was the fact that he always wanted ‘ta be lovin’ up on me all the time. I was used ‘ta that, so honestly, it made me feel a lil’ better that he wanted ‘ta be close ‘ta me.

I nodded ‘nd opened the covers to ‘im. “Yeah, sure. C’mon.” I owed ‘im as much, anyway, for everything.

He crawled into bed with me, circlin’ ‘is arms ‘round my waist ‘nd layin’ ‘is head against my chest. Normally, I’d beat a guy's ass for even thinkin’ ‘a gettin’ this close ‘ta my tits, but… it was different with ‘im. 'Ta him, it wasn't 'bout coppin’ a feel, but ‘bout bein’ as close ‘ta me as humanly possible. I patted ‘is back ‘fore layin’ down myself ‘nd keepin’ ‘im tucked against me. We were silent for awhile, but eventually, the rumble of ‘is voice broke it.

“You know I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I’d do anything for you, right?” he asked.

“I never thought you were… I got you pegged as a man ‘a your word.” I trailed my fingers up ‘nd down ‘is arm aimlessly. 

“Yeah, I am. And I’d do the best thing for you. Even if you didn't ask.”

I smiled softly ‘nd let my heart soar a lil’ at the sentiment. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

“I love ya to death, Alex,” he stated, soundin’ more like a promise than an admission.

I had never said these words out loud before ‘ta anyone. Actually, they felt foreign on my tongue, but I knew in my bones that I had only one reply.

“I love you too, ‘Maggie.”

*

 

Fiesole, Italia- 2001

Had I grown up ‘ta be everything that she wasn't? Not really… I don't think I was done growin’ yet. Still had time ‘ta prove myself but I’d headed down a bad path for most ‘a my life ‘nd I was still tryin’ ‘ta dig myself outta that.

I was sittin’ at the table on my laptop, idlely tappin’ my fingers on it ‘nd starin’ at the screen blankly. I didn’t know how I was 'sposed ‘ta feel. All I knew was that I wanted to tell one specific person. Well, two, really. But only one of ‘em had just gotten back from a stint at work, though… I’d hate ‘ta bother ‘im with the past like this.

He’d just plopped down on the couch with a cold beer in ‘is hands, crackin’ the can open. He always had such a nonchalant attitude 'bout ‘im, always singin’ to ‘imself ‘nd jokin’ ‘round. I still saw parts ‘a that same young man in ‘im, but he’d grown from an angsty teen delinquent with a penchant for weed ‘nd a hero complex, to a ruthless but good-hearted, domestic, laidback goofball who had a tendency ‘ta let me walk all over ‘im. I’d guess that was just plain respect, though, everyone save for ‘im ‘nd ‘is family’d always walked all over me, so maybe I was too much of a pessimist to see it for what it was. 

My mum was definitely wrong ‘bout one thing, though. He had never hurt me. In fact, he’d stopped me from hurtin' myself a number ‘a times. He’s honestly the greatest ‘round, despite bein’ a tad obnoxious sometimes.

Still, I wouldn't trade ‘im for the world.

“Hey, baby. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head ‘a yours?” ‘Maggie asked, a musical quality ‘ta his voice. “Anything you wanna do tonight? We could cook dinner together, watch a movie… Oh! We could go for a nice, romantic walk ,” he added with a singsong finish.

“Nah, don't wanna do none ‘a that,” I said, still starin’ at my screen.

“Well, you know I’d do the dishes and clean up after, right? I wouldn't make royalty like you do all that!” 

“My mum died,” I blurted out with no effect ‘ta my voice, still tryin’ ‘ta sort out if I cared at all.

“What?!”

“Yeah, just saw it in a list ‘a recent local obituaries.” I rapped my finger against the screen.

Next thing I knew, he was right by my side ‘nd kneelin’ for me, wrappin’ ‘is arms 'round me. “Oh, Princess…”

I looked down at ‘im. “You know I don't give a shit, right?”

He sighed ‘nd reached up to hold my face, makin’ me look down at at ‘im. “Alex… She was your mom. ‘Course you care, deep down. Somewhere in your heart– or your head –you care.”

“Well, what if I really don’t?” I crossed my arms over my chest, my eyes narrowin’.

“Then… Let’s go back over there. Collect the valuables.”

“To that house?!” I stood up ‘nd walked out into the middle ‘a the room, nearly knockin’ ‘im over, my stomach turnin’. Guess I did care ‘bout this one thing more than the other.

“Yeah, to that house.” 

“‘Maggie, are you outta your head?! My dad’ll be there!” 

He looked down at the floor, ‘nd I knew I recognized that look in ‘is eyes. I’d really only seen it once before, ‘nd it was that night he crawled into my bed lookin’ for solace. Why’d it come back now, of all times?

“He won't be a problem,” ‘Maggie asserted in a grim voice, just as before.

“What d’you mean?” I took a step closer ‘ta him, apprehensive at best.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, just…” He shook ‘is head ‘fore puttin’ on ‘is signature smile ‘nd grabbin’ the car keys. “Let’s go before it gets too late, yeah? Maybe we’ll still have time for dinner.”

Somethin’ was up with ‘im ‘nd I’d find out what, but first, I’d better follow ‘im out. I was takin’ my bat, though, just in case… The bloodstain left by my dad was still there, sealed by epoxy forever. 

We’d gotten out ‘ta the car ‘nd pulled onto the road, ‘nd I think ‘Maggie could tell by the look on my face that I wasn't buyin’ ‘is rubbish. He flashed me a nervous simper, typical ‘a when he knew he was in deep shit. But I was givin’ ‘im the silent treatment ‘ta make ‘im squirm ‘nd finally spill. I knew it’d work. It always did. He never did like me shuttin’ up. He said he’d listen ‘ta my voice all day, even if I was yellin’. 

“Alex, baby… I know what you're doin’,” he appealed ‘ta me in a strained voice. “But I promise that everything is fine. I just said that ‘cause by now, your old man’ll be feeble, y’know? Decrepit. A real bag ‘a bones.” He laughed to himself at that. “He’s–”

“I get it,” I huffed. “No need 'ta drag on.”

“Oh, hey, look, you’re talkin’ again!”

“Mostly 'cause I know you won't shut up,” I grumbled. “I just… keep rememberin’ that day…”

Finally, I was startin’ ‘ta feel somethin’, but only at the thought of that house rather than my mum.

“When you left for good?” he asked.

“Yeah…”

“Well… talk to me. I'm here to listen.”

A good man, he was. “It’s replayin’ in my mind, y’know? As if it were yesterday… But it’s been ten years. Ten long years. And lots has changed. I just… keep rememberin’ how violent ‘nd angry my dad was. How he had you pinned ‘nd I whacked ‘im with my bat. How my mum showed a little ounce ‘a care for me ‘nd got punished for it. What she said ‘ta me as a goodbye…”

“You never told me what that was.”

I swallowed thickly ‘nd shook my head. “Said, in more words, that I was a coward for runnin’ away ‘nd that she never loved me."

I watched ‘is face dampen into a pitiful expression as he reached out ‘nd held my hand. “I'm sorry, Princess…”

I squeezed ‘is back. “Last thing she ever said ‘ta me was: “I hope you grow up to be everything we’re not” ...”

“I think you grew up just fine, even if you had some dark years.”

“Maybe… But it’s not like I’m a saint. Even still, I’m nearly thirty and doin’ petty crime for low-level thugs.”

“Hey, hey, but you’re relatively happy, right? More than she ever was. And you’ve got a stable marriage, a safe home, and ya haven't lost your humanity.”

I thought for a moment ‘fore noddin’. “Yeah, guess you’re right…”

“And I think you’ve got a pretty great husband, y'know? I mean, he’s a real stand up guy who would do anything for ya. That’s gotta count for somethin’.”

I actually laughed ‘nd playfully hit 'im in the chest a bit. “Just drive the car."

He gestured in defeat with a free hand. “Okay, okay, I’m just sayin’–”

“‘Maggie!”

He chuckled ‘nd smiled in silence for a second 'fore speakin’ up again. “You’re doin’ just fine, Alex. Don't be so hard on yourself. We’re gonna make it and get everything we want in life.”

“What makes you so sure 'bout that?”

“'Cause… When you fell outta my life for that little while, I realized I couldn't live without ya. I fell further into crime lookin’ for ya. Took me a while but I finally found ya. And when ya said ya needed me again, when ya said ya wanted me ‘round every day, when ya said 'yes’ to my proposal… I’m not a stand-up guy or a winner but I still got blessed with ya. And if I could somehow manage to get someone like you to marry someone like me, I think I can reach anything I aim for, y’know?”

Damn sap… He knew just what to say. I smiled ‘nd rested my hand on ‘is lap, noddin’. “Yeah, think I got my dream when you saved my life ‘nd gave me your love too…”

“I’d do it all over again.”

“Y’know, my mum said somethin’ else ‘ta me that day...”

“What’s that?”

“She said that the world was full ‘a evil men, that all men hurt you. ‘Nd I agree for the most part. I’ve every reason ‘ta kill just ‘bout any man who looks at me, but… She said you’d hurt me too.”

“What?”

“Yeah, ‘nd I told her she was wrong. Glad you proved me right. You never did once hurt me– not physically, not emotionally, not financially. ‘Ta be honest, she was spoutin’ a loud bit ‘a rubbish. Think she was just projectin’ on me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’d never hurt ya. You could have my heart and I’d cut it outta my chest for ya.”

It was macabre, sure, but raw ‘nd romantic just the same… I patted his thigh ‘fore hummin’ a bit to myself. “Too bad everyone else in the world ain't lucky enough ‘ta have someone like you.”

“I’m one of a kind, baby,” he joked, “but I’m all yours!”

“Don’t I know it, jaan .”

“Oh, tell me ya love me in Hindi. You know I love the way it sounds comin’ from you.”

I shook my head ‘fore givin’ in. “Main tumse pyaar karti hoon.”

He swooned in an exaggerated manner ‘fore takin’ my hand again. “E anch'io ti amo, principessa.”

“Sei una gran fesso, ‘Maggie.”

“I’m your dork, though. Does that make it better?”

“It does. And, y’know, most Indians just say ‘I love you’ in English, right?”

“Huh, no… I didn’t.” He then wore a coy smirk ‘nd put on a naff British accent. “That ‘cause ‘a all ‘em daft Brits way back when, innit?”

I let out an awfully loud groan ‘nd recoiled my hand in mock disgust. “That was bloody rubbish, my God, ‘Maggie! Stick ‘ta the accent you were born with, love.” I then laughed when he did. “That was truly a load of cobblers… Blimey! All these years with me ‘nd you can hardly muster soundin’ like a Brit. Christ…”

He guffawed ‘nd wore a beamin’ grin, drummin’ ‘is thumbs on the wheel. “I always was good at makin’ you laugh, huh?”

I wiped a slight tear from my eye, agreein’ at once. “The best, yeah…” I then held his hand again, my voice calmer now. “You’re just the best in general.”

“Someone’s in a lovey mood, huh?”

“Just preparin’ myself.”

He squeezed my hand again. “Well, you’re not goin’ it alone.”

“Maybe we should visit Mare after this, yeah?”

“I think that’d do us some good.”

I never moved too far away from this place. I knew this city well ‘nd I hated movin’, so I never left Firenze or the areas on the outskirts of it. In that same vein, it didn't take us long ‘ta reach the shitty place I used ‘ta call a home so long ago.

It was just like I remembered it, only more shabby ‘nd washed up. The sun ‘nd rain’d really done a number on it all these years, ‘nd what lil’ grass there was in the small yard was overgrown ‘nd wild. This place hadn't been cared for in a long time, so I guess my parents’d given up.

I took my bat with me for our trip ‘ta the front door, but when I knocked, there was no answer. Maybe my dad was out? There wasn't that old, beat up, busted rust-wagon he called a car in the driveway. I was ‘bouta knock again, but the sound of shatterin’ glass stole my attention, ‘nd I swiftly turned in that direction. ‘Maggie'd thrown a rock in the front window ‘nd taken his jacket off, usin’ it to clear the stray pieces ‘a glass from the frame. If this were any other moment, I would’ve been appreciatin’ how little ‘is shirt left to the imagination or the tattoos on ‘is shoulders ‘nd upper back, but I was more focused on ‘is antics as of now.

“‘Maggie! The hell’re you up to?” I stomped towards ‘im.

“He’s not gonna answer the door. This is the only way ‘ta get in,” he claimed, climbin’ inside through the broken, rickety windowsill.

I growled under my breath ‘nd followed suit, growin’ more impatient with ‘im by the second. “Well, how do you know that?”

Once we got inside, I could finally see what was left of this place. The wood was rotting in some areas, ‘nd all the holes my dad ever left in the walls were still there. It smelled ‘a moisture ‘nd old carpet in here. Everything was frozen in time, nearly untouched. Thick dust covered most ‘a everything, ‘nd the floor groaned under my feet. I felt like I’d just stepped into a time capsule ‘a my childhood– like any second now, a scene ‘a one ‘a my father’s tirades would play in fronta me. 

But it was silent. Dead silent.

When I moved forward into the livin’ room ‘nd looked at the front door from the inside, I could see ripped crime scene tape hangin’ from the frame, left ‘ta time. What the hell’d happened here?!

“Why is this place so lifeless…?” I muttered, turnin’ back to look at ‘Maggie.

He wore that same expression I only recognized as grave ‘nd 'hitman-like’ . He walked past me ‘nd stood beside my dad’s old, worn recliner, which had a thick sheet coverin’ it. He pulled it off, flingin’ dust in the air, then pointed to it.

“'Cause, ten years ago, I killed your old man right there.”

My guts ‘bout spilled outta me I was so gobsmacked. I think I probably went pale too. I could feel my pulse throbbin’ throughout my very bein’ as I stalked toward ‘im, almost not believin’ 'im. What I saw, though, when I peered over the head ‘a the chair set everything in stone, though…

Blood. Old, dried blood that was so dark it was nearly brown in color now. The chair was soaked with it, as well as the floor just before it, where he must’ve fallen ‘nd bled out. I felt a lil’ sick. I’ve seen worse, but… this was different.

I didn't even know what ‘ta say, but ‘Maggie took care ‘a that too.

“Your mom hasn’t lived here since that night, but the property is– or, was –still in her name,” he explained. “Everything is as it was that night, 'cept for the body.”

I felt hot, stingin’ tears come to my eyes. I was a mixed bag ‘a horrified, grateful, ‘nd avenged. “W–why did you…?”

He stuck ‘is hands in ‘is pockets, still almost business-like… for his line ‘a work, anyway. I rarely saw ‘im like this. “When we were fightin’ that day, he told me that if he ever found us again, he’d kill us, 'nd, well… I found him first.”

That… made sense. And it explained why he acted the way he did that night all those years ago. “Please tell me my mum wasn't home ta’ see it…”

“She wasn't. I waited for the right time.”

I hated my sonnuva bitch father ‘nd I’d wanted him dead for so long. But to actually know he’d been dead the whole time? I missed out on years ‘a relief ‘nd celebration… And now that it was real, I found myself havin’ a hard time with it. Not outta love, no… I had no love for the man alive in me. I never did, but… I think it was just shock. Yeah, that’s all it was. 

“Why didn't you ever tell me…?” I whispered, blinkin’ some tears outta my eyes.

“I didn't know when you’d be ready to hear somethin’ like that… And you never wanted to talk about your old man. You avoided the topic entirely, so I… figured it was best to wait til you were ready to think ‘bout him.”

I nodded. “I understand…”

“I’m sorry, Princess… Maybe he was bluffin’ but I really couldn't take any chances. Not with you… You’re too precious. And I had to pay him back for everything he’d ever done to you.” 

“So… you’ve actually been a killer since you were eighteen?”

He almost looked a little ashamed now. “Yeah… Guess you can say I was made for it. B–but this was a one-time thing ‘til I joined La Squadra, y’know? Think of it as a vigilante kill… I was keepin’ my favorite girl safe. That’s all it was.”

I sniffled ‘nd collapsed into ‘im just like he’d done ‘ta me that day. “You’re too good to me.”

“You only deserve a man who’d kill for and die for you. I’ll do anything I can, even if it’s the wrong way.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

For once, these four walls had actually witnessed what love looked like. ‘Nd I knew that if my younger self could see me now… 

She’d wish she’d been the one ‘ta kill that bastard. 

 

 

-- Chapter End --

 

🔺🔺🔺

 

Notes:

Listen to Wrong Way by Sublime! Good musical allegory to this chapter and pretty adjacent to Alex and Formaggio's relationship! Also this is my LONGEST CHAPTER YET!!! And I'm out of my stupid poopy unofficial hiatus sorry gang :/

Chapter 36: Assassin Anecdotes: Deep-down

Summary:

On their way to a mission, Althaia and Melone take a moment to get to know each other...

Althaia's perspective

 

Destination: Napoli- 2001

 

The train Melone and I were on rumbled quietly across the tracks as we sat across from each other. I was in the window seat, staring out at the fast-passing scenery outside. Every so often, I glanced over at Melone, who was using his Stand, Babyface, as a laptop, curled up against the corner of the seat... I didn't fully understand the whole thing, but he seemed focused and at least he wasn't bothering me.

I had spent very little time one on one with him until now. This was only my second mission, and they were already pairing me up with Melone. Was this a punishment for doing so badly last time?

"Are you ready for our mission, la mia dea greca?"

I rolled my eyes a bit. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess..."

He closed his laptop. "Worry not. It's a simple reconnaissance task. We'll record our information and go." He sat up now, eyeing me analytically. "Speaking of..."

I raised a brow. "What? Why are you looking at me that way?"

"Forgive me if I'm too forward, but I need some vital information on you for my Stand."

"You need what...?"

"You see, my Stand works in that I create, what is essentially a zygote, from two highly incompatible people, and it grows into a self-sustaining, long-range Stand. So, I have data within my Stand on all of our team members! That way, in case I need to create a Junior quickly, everything I need is right here." He patted the laptop.

Despite myself, my curiosity was piqued, and I nodded. "Interesting... So, this would work between two men or even two women?"

"Yes, precisely. It's about blood. The sexes of the 'parents' don't matter. Besides, at the end of the day, I'm the thing's father, you could say."

I mulled over the prospect in my mind before shrugging. "I guess it wouldn't hurt... And it'd pass the time too."

"Di molto!" he exclaimed. "Magnificent..." He opened up the laptop and began typing with ferocity. "I have a list of pre-determined questions to ask you. And even before that, I should warn you that they may make you uncomfortable."

I snickered a bit. "You make me uncomfortable."

He sighed and swept his hair out of his eye. "I apologize, tesoro. I have some morbid curiosities and impulse control issues. Truly, I think it stems from the fact that my mother was so emotionally absent in my adolescence. And what attention our parents did have to spare us, it went to Marsala, because she was a sickly child. I suppose I became fascinated with the concept of things I couldn't have."

I did a double take, blinking a few times. Damn... This was... "You are the only one on the team who has opened up to me this suddenly."

He smirked a little. "I'm an open book, caro. I really have no shame."

"You should have some shame..."

"Ah, but for now my lack of shame benefits you. So, go ahead and ask. I'm sure you want to know what kind of man I am deep-down, hm?"

I thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, you know what? You're right. I do."

"Then ask away."

"You uh... obviously have a thing for women but you seem to like Ghiaccio too, so... What are you?"

"You're asking about my sexuality?" He snickered a bit and leaned back. "Bold first move. But I'll say that I'm whatever suits my mood at that very moment. And as for Ghiaccio, he is simply a friend, my best friend, rather. I say what I say and do what I do to, one, show our closeness and, two, tease him a bit. Perhaps I'm playing with fire, but my mind is active, and I get bored easily, so, I find ways to entertain myself. And Ghiaccio, with his temper-fueled reactions, is a perfect candidate."

I nodded. "Ah, fair enough..."

"Anything else?"

"You don't, uh... have a thing for me, do you?"

Melone chuckled and shook his head. "No, no... That fascination with you died down the longer I've known you. It's nothing against you, it's just that if I have to work with you and live with you every day, I should learn to be somewhat respectful is all." He then eyed me up and down, his tongue slipping out of his mouth for a split second. "Although, you are still absolutely gorgeous, Doctor..."

I cringed a bit but otherwise let it go, gesturing dismissively. "Yeah, yeah... You're pretty self-aware for a guy who seems to not know what he's doing."

He placed his hand on his chest, feigning offense. "You wound me. Of course, I'm self-aware, I just lack shame– like I said. I wouldn't call my hyper-sexuality a 'problem' if I couldn't conceptualize it as a problem. Oh, I get into trouble enough to know that my behavior is 'anti-social'."

I nodded, tapping my chin... He was a lot smarter than anyone gave him credit for, and actually pretty easy to carry a conversation with.

I patted the seat next to me before smiling a bit. "Alright, then. Let's answer those questions you have for me, yeah?"

His aqua-marine eyes, much like a lively tide pool in late summer, widened at my invitation. "Really?"

"Yeah, c'mon."

He moved to sit beside me, and finally, I could see Babyface's screen. It was a pretty rudimentary computer screen with teal, pixelated text. This was pretty cool... To my surprise, Melone also smelled really good just like before. This moment was shaping up to be nicer than I expected.

"Answer my questions as honestly as you possibly can. Alright?" he began.

I nodded. "Sure."

"When's your birthday?"

"April 16th, 1978."

"Ah! It's coming up very soon! We'll have to celebrate..."

I giggled a bit.

"So, you're..."

"Twenty-five."

"Three years older than me..."

"Really?!"

"Yep."

"Wow... I guess I don't think about your ages much. I mostly just know Risotto and Prosciutto's..."

"So, you're an Aries... And what's your blood type?"

"'O-'."

"A universal donor? Hm, that inherently increases your compatibility with anyone..."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"For my Stand, yes... But it's alright. Now, tell me, do you partake in any recreational drugs? Drink regularly?"

I shrugged. "No drugs besides over-the-counter, really... Oh, and my prescription sleeping pills. And I don't drink more than a few sips of wine with a meal maybe. A drink or two at a celebration at most."

"Interesting... And are you in good health? Do you exercise regularly?"

I nodded. "Yep! Great health and I jog, lift weights, and do other forms of cardio too."

He leaned a bit closer to me, turning his head to look at me now. "Like what?"

Usually, I'd have expected this to come off as suggestive, but it didn't. He just seemed genuinely curious. "Uh... I like to skate! Figure skating, to be more exact!"

"Di molto! A beautiful sport!" He typed away at his computer.

I smiled softly and let my shoulder rest against his. This was nice... It was a moment I was hoping for with him for a while now. Something that felt normal and didn't make my stomach churn... To be honest, he had contended to be my least favorite because of his comments, but now, I'm enjoying this time with him, and it surprised me.

"Now, Althaia, this is where the questions might start to become uncomfortable for you..." he warned.

"Oh... Alright." I was slightly nervous because I really didn't know what to expect from him.

"Your periods, would you say they're regular?"

I tensed up and my eyes widened, my cheeks flushing. "What?!"

"I told you..."

"Uhm, yeah. They're... pretty normal..."

"Now, this is the most important question... You're aware of The Kama Sutra, yes?" He pulled up an image on the laptop and pointed at the screen. "Which of these erotic positions would you prefer the most?"

When I looked at the screen, it was filled with icons depicting several... kissing positions... I only felt my face grow hotter. Dammit... W-what the hell?! Despite myself, all I could think about when I saw them was Prosciutto... It's not my fault! It's just that... he was the person I had sorta kissed most recently.

"Uh... W-what does this have to do with anything?" I stammered.

"It's just a piece of information my Stand requires... Once you answer this, it's over."

I tried to focus and look over each icon. This isn't exactly what I was in the mood for this morning... I groaned a bit and pointed at the most normal looking one. "That one, I guess..."

"Di molto! We're all finished!" He closed the laptop, and it disappeared. "I appreciate your cooperation, Doctor."

I nodded and tried to recover, bringing my fingers to my hot cheeks. "Yeah, n-no problem..."

"Say, I've always had a fascination with all things biology. If I had a question from time to time, would you be willing to answer?"

"I guess... But I'm not a biologist, just a medical doctor."

"What field of medicine did you specialize in?"

"Hematology and hematopathology."

"Ah! You're a blood doctor! How interesting... You know, Risotto has anemia but he's pretty stubborn about treating it. Have you talked to him about that?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and wore a determined expression. "Oh, trust me... I have a plan..."

"I work with blood, y'know, for my Stand. What is the best way to store blood samples?"

"Long term?"

"Yes."

"Freezing them. And I mean really freezing them. At negative-eighty degrees Celsius or lower in an ultra-low freezer."

"Hm... I'll have to look into that..."

"At that temperature, a sample can last for up to two years. But once you thaw it, you can't freeze it again."

"Of course! Why state the obvious?"

I chuckled a little. "Have you always been this interested in blood?"

"Not blood, no... Just biology and, more specifically, genetics, in a broader sense. That curiosity of mine began when I truly understood the concept of twins, considering I have one... And when my twin became chronically ill and disabled at a young age, and I didn't, I became obsessed with finding an answer and trying to cure her..."

I could see his eyes become less gleeful as he described this, his head hanging a bit. Poor guy... I sighed and put my arm around him in order to comfort him, rubbing his shoulder. He didn't react much. He simply leaned into me further and began fiddling with his gloves.

"That was a noble cause, trying to help..." I said quietly.

"I suppose, but... I went about it all wrong. Like I said, those morbid curiosities have been with me all my life. Eventually, as my fixation grew, I saw Marsala as less of a sister and more of a 'patient'... And later on, an experiment..."

Oh, that poor girl...

"And that's why she borderline hates me now," he began again. "At one point I was convinced I had the answer and just needed some of her blood, but she fought me on it and wouldn't let me. So, I did something very awful that I regret deeply now..." He shook his head. "I hope that one day, she can fully forgive me..."

I listened to him with a bleeding heart, squeezing his shoulder tighter and sporting an empathetic expression. "If she really hated you, I think she'd be a lot meaner to you..."

He shrugged a bit and closed his eyes. "Perhaps you're right... I try to do all I can to make up for who I used to be to her. Because I really do love her..."

I nodded and gently swept his lilac hair out of his face. I wondered why he and Marsala both wore masks over their eyes...

"I remember what her smile used to look like when she could smile..." he reminisced wistfully. "After that nasty fall due to the seizure she had, she couldn't show emotion on her face anymore."

I grimaced a bit. "Sorry if this is too personal, but do you know what she's been diagnosed with?"

He nodded. "Cerebral palsy, epilepsy, traumatic brain injury, autismo, fibromyalgia, hypermobility syndrome, migraines... Those are the ones I can remember, anyway."

Woah... "Damn... That sounds rough..."

"It was, growing up. It still is for her now."

"You seem to be a caring person, deep-down..."

He looked up at me, a curious glint in his eyes. He didn't look like he believed me. "And here I was thinking you used to hate me..."

I smiled softly and shrugged. "You've shown me today that you're more than meets the eye."

He smiled in returned and settled back against me. "I thank you for giving me a chance..."

"Hm... I'm curious. You're twins, so, there has to be some diagnoses you and Marsala share, right?"

"Mhm. Autismo, for one. And I have mild joint problems, but nothing significant. I also get awful headaches but that's probably due to my poor posture and tendency to stare at screens, I'm not sure. The emotional disturbances on both of our parts are probably environmental rather than genetic."

"I see..."

"But don't tell her I told you any of this. She likes to keep it private. Alright?"

"I won't, Mel. I promise I won't."

"Good..."

The train slowly came to a halt and the breaks squealed. We both sat up and looked around. This was our stop. He stood up, only to offer me his hand and help me to my feet.

He gestured out into the aisle. "Ladies first."

I giggled softly and stepped in front of him. "What a gentleman."

"Now that's a first!"

We both laughed as we left the train, as if we had been friends the whole time.

Yeah... Melone isn't that bad, deep-down...

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

Yes. Abby, I finally posted it PLEASE DONT HUNT ME DOWN :(( Anywho Melorne fans rise ig

Chapter 37: Assassin Anecdotes: Them

Summary:

Althaia meets some of the gang's Stands, including her new favorite one, and shares an intimate, relationship-changing moment or two with its user.

(WARNING: Adult themes, intimacy, suggestiveness, implied nudity and sex, reader discretion is advised)

Althaia's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

"Please , Prosciutto!" I begged, sitting on my knees beside him on the couch.

"No," he said, trying to focus on his newspaper.

"Please, please, please, please!"

"Do you have a death wish?"

I paused for a moment, my eyes widening before shaking my head. "No..."

"Because if I bring my Stand out, you could get hurt."

"Yeah, but you have control over it, right? You won't activate the ability immediately."

He sighed and groaned softly. "Althaia, The Grateful Dead is for missions and battle only."

"But I just wanna see it!" I whined.

"Ah, give it a rest, Green," Formaggio said, sitting on the opposite couch and drinking a soda while watching TV. "He's real stingy with his Stand."

"Are you stingy with yours?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Not really."

"That's because his is useless," Illuso said, passing through into the kitchen.

Formaggio shot up from his place on the couch, brows furrowed. This was the only thing that really got him mad. "Is not, asshole!"

"Wasn't that useless when he used it to murder that guard in front of me..." I said with a grim expression. I still had nightmares.

"That's because he has no class," Illuso asserted.

"Gimme one good reason not to use it on you!" Formaggio hopped over the back of the couch, headed towards Illuso.

I essentially leapt to the other couch and leaned over the back of it, holding Formaggio back as Illuso stood there with a smug air about him. "Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah! No need to fight! He's just being a dick to you, Formaggio."

He huffed, staying still and adjusting his jacket collar. "Please, I know that. Fact is, my life is a lot better than his and he's jealous. I'm just tired of him."

"Well, you should be tired of–" Illuso was cut off when I jumped over the back of the couch and quickly elbowed him when I got close enough.

"Atta girl, Green." Formaggio wore a grin, crossing his arms over his chest as Illuso reeled from the sudden pain.

"Yeah, don't mention it!" I chirped. "So, what's your Stand do again, Formaggio?"

"Little Feet shrinks things by using its long claw to slash its target," he answered.

I nodded. "Ah, okay!" I chuckled softly before memories of my first mission flashed into my mind again. "Little Feet is a cute name for something so... deadly."

"Y'know, you've never really seen all of it before, though." He slid over the back of the couch and sat down again. "Just the claw."

"Can I?" I walked around the side of the couch.

"Sure, I don't see why not."

With that, a medium-sized, purplish, humanoid, almost robotic looking thing with a large claw and a wide, toothy grin stood before me, appearing from nothingness. It seemed a lot less frightening now that I could see all of it. Perhaps this would be a good way to confront what happened that day... Risotto told me that confronting our fears is good, and that it'd lessen my nightmares.

I kneeled down with a cautious, yet curious expression, studying it as its beady eyes looked back at me. All the while, Formaggio, as well as the other two, were watching me closely. Little Feet wasn't so bad... Its plastered-on smile was almost a little cute. That claw, though...

I remembered watching it slit a man's throat... Of course, that was Formaggio manipulating its arm for his own benefit, not Little Feet itself. Still...

I reached out carefully towards the claw, biting at my inner lip a bit. Formaggio, however, seized my wrist and looked down at me with a confused expression.

"What're ya doin', Green?" he asked. "I told you what that claw does and now ya wanna go and touch it?"

I signed. "It's just... I'm dealing with my own personal fears of it due to that day, y'know? I'll be careful, I won't touch the sharp end, but I just need to show myself that there's nothing to be afraid of..."

He studied me for a moment before letting go. "Alright... Do whatcha gotta."

I nodded and reached forward again, my fingertips delicately running across the long edge of Little Feet's claw. I registered that Formaggio swatted his hand a little in response, it seemed, but I didn't pay it any attention. The Stand raised its claw a bit, as if presenting it to me. I wondered if this was Formaggio's doing, subconscious or not, but I appreciated it. It almost... humanized this little killing machine.

It seemed docile enough, though, and this was a good way for me to get over some of my disgust and grief with that day. No Stand itself is bad, it just reflects the will and spirit of the master, much like a dog. I smiled softly at that thought before raising my hand again, this time with a different target. I gently tapped my finger on the place where its nose would be, as if I was booping it.

When I touched Little Feet, Formaggio flinched and rubbed his nose. Wait...

"Did you feel that?" I looked up at him.

He nodded. "Uh, yeah. Ya didn't know? The sensations a Stand feels transfers to the user."

"Wait, really? That's news to me! I haven't really used my Stand a lot though..."

Illuso came back into the room, a prideful sneer on his face. "Don't tell me you're impressed by that ." He gestured to Little Feet . "My Stand is much more impressive."

Formaggio rolled his eyes and recalled his Stand. "You're such a dick..."

"Wait, Illuso, can I see yours?" I stood up now.

He nodded before dramatically calling upon his Stand. "Feast your eyes on Man In The Mirror!"

Before me appeared a humanoid looking Stand with an oddly shaped head, a beaked face, and thick, orange sunglasses. Interesting...

I laughed a little and that set Illuso into a vain frenzy.

"What? What's so funny?" He wore a big frown on his face.

"Nothing! It's nothing!" I waved my hands in defeat in front of me. "It just looks a little silly is all, in a cute way."

He turned his nose up at me and crossed his arms over his chest. " Hmph ... At least it's better than Formaggio's."

Formaggio flicked Man In The Mirror, which caused Illuso to jump back. "Asshole..."

Ghiaccio and Melone walked into the room, followed by Pesci.

" Ah, are we showing off our Stands?" Melone asked.

"Guess so," Formaggio replied, craning his neck to see the TV past them.

"Well, you've already seen mine, la mia dea greca. " He then sat down on the couch next to Formaggio. "Well, some of it, at least."

"I can't show mine in close quarters like this or you'll all freeze," Ghiaccio said, taking a seat next to Melone.

"Uh..." Pesci began nervously. "Mine's not... much to look at..."

I raised a brow at this, turning my attention to him while Illuso recalled his Stand, still feeling bitter.

"Your Stand is very impressive, Pesci. You just lack confidence and delivery," Prosciutto countered, setting his paper down.

"R-really, Big Bro?"

"Yes. I wouldn't lie, would I?" he began. "It has the potential to be one of the greatest on our squad with practice and fortitude."

I smiled a bit and approached Pesci. "Can I see it?"

He squeaked nervously and took a step back. I think he was still a little scared of me, even after all of this time. "Uh... sure. But it's not... very cool."

I gestured dismissively. "Oh, sure it is!"

He took a deep breath before a large, abnormal fishing rod appeared in his hands. I studied it with wonder in my eyes.

"Woah! Hey! This is awesome!" I cheered. "What does it do?"

Pesci smiled a bit, seeming to get more confident with my words. "I can use it to detect heart beats in the area around the hook, and it can even get caught on people. Like they're fish!"

I nodded, my hands on my hips. "Huh! That sounds really useful! I think you have a really awesome Stand, Pesci!" I wore a sweet smile on my face.

I think that ultimately made him more nervous, because his Stand disappeared and his cheeks reddened in color. "U-uhm... Thank you..."

I then turned back to Prosciutto, a stupid grin on my face. "Prosciutto!"

He glared at me. "What, Althaia?"

"Can I please, please, please see yours now? Come on! I promise I'll be careful!!"

He huffed a bit. "I already told you no. I have a feeling you'll just do something stupid with it even though you say you won't."

I sunk to my knees and rested my chin on the arm of the couch, looking up at him with a pleading gaze. " Please , Prosciutto!!" I whined.

"The sooner you show her, the sooner she'll stop her incessant whining," Ghiaccio grumbled.

Prosciutto looked down into my eyes for a moment, his brows furrowing a bit as he tried to fight the effect they had on him, but eventually, he relented and rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine!"

I jumped up. "Yay!!"

"Remember to be careful ."

"I will, I will!"

In an instant, a strange looking creature stood before me, a whitish color with purple accents. It was the upper-half of a humanoid with large, animalistic, clawed arms that it stood on, wire-like objects hanging from its torso like entrails, and it was covered almost completely in many greenish-yellow, freaky looking eyes. I stared at it for a long moment, not reacting.

" Ugh , that thing always creeps me out," Formaggio muttered.

"Yeah, talk about ' weird '," Illuso agreed.

"It sees literally everything..." Ghiaccio added.

I dropped to my knees, my eyes wide and sparkling, face full of awe as if I had just seen the cutest puppy in the world.

" Oh, my god! " I squealed.

"Hah! No wonder she'd react that way. I'd scream if I didn't know what that was either," Melone joked.

"I screamed when I saw it for the first time too," Prosciutto admitted, albeit, embarrassment gracing his tone.

"It's so cute!" I cooed, surprising everyone.

The room all let out collective sounds of confusion, now on the edges of their seats.

"Huh? Are you serious?!" Formaggio exclaimed.

Pesci shook his head. "She can't be..."

"Althaia, what are you even saying right now?" Illuso asked.

Melone shut his laptop. "Did you hit your head?"

"No, no!" I insisted. "This really is the cutest thing I've ever seen!"

Prosciutto raised a brow at me, leaning forward in his chair now. "Wait... Really?"

I nodded, a wide grin on my face. "Yes!" I got closer to The Grateful Dead and waved to it. "Hello! My name's Althaia!"

Ghiaccio tapped his foot impatiently, his expression dropped. "She's... talking to it?"

To everyone's surprise, The Grateful Dead seemed to react to my greeting. This made me really happy, so I kept going.

"You're just about the sweetest thing in the world, aren't you? Aren't you?"

With its heavy claws, it made a small, curious circle around me and I giggled.

"Prosciutto, are you telling it to do this right now?" Melone asked, tapping away at his computer now with godspeed.

Prosciutto looked just as confused as the rest of them. "Uh, no... I-I'm not telling it to do anything right now..."

I continued talking directly to it. "Your eyes are very pretty, you know. I like them!"

The Grateful Dead made a sort of rumbling, growling noise, but it didn't come off as aggressive to me.

"You can see everything, huh?"

It nodded.

Prosciutto's eyes widened and he got down on the floor with me. "Wait... I've... never seen it act so sentient before."

"Maybe because you've never treated it like it could be," I remarked, reaching out to touch it.

I was very careful not to touch too close to any of its eyes, gently rubbing the top of its head with two of my fingers. Its eyes closed and it made this sort of purring sound. Prosciutto stiffened up a bit, his face going red. I forgot that he'd be able to feel it too, but I didn't care. This was about The Grateful Dead.

"Aw, you're such a sweet little baby boy," I murmured, baby talking to it. I cautiously wrapped my arms around it as well.

At first, it opened its eyes and jumped a little, but it quickly calmed down and went back to purring. It even lowered itself into the best seated position it could on my lap.

Prosciutto, at this point, was stunned and unresponsive. I could only imagine how these sensations were reverberating in his body, but that was hardly on my mind. I had the cutest little lapdog in my arms!

The rest of the guys were laughing their asses off and making fun of Prosciutto, but I still kept calm, gently stroking the places between The Grateful Dead's eyes with my fingers.

It continued to purr in my lap, but it refused to touch me with its claws... I wonder if that's where its power comes from... I carefully ran my fingers down one of its claws, and it instinctively flexed them, like a cat, but it still wouldn't touch me.

I turned around when I felt a weak hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see Prosciutto looking at me, gaze half-lidded and face so red I thought he might melt.

"Al-..." He shuddered. "Althaia... B-be careful... Don't let it touch you."

I shrugged and chirped, "I won't!" before petting its claws again.

Prosciutto swayed, falling back against the couch and closing his eyes. The other guy's were pointing and jeering, as they'd never seen him so undone.

The Grateful Dead looked up at me with squinted eyes... It was so cute... I could hardly handle it, I wanted to scream. I wanted to treat it like a pet and take it on walks. I wanted to cuddle with it and put a little bow on it! God, it was so cute I wanted to squeeze it really, really tight, but I didn't want to hurt it...

"You're just a silly guy, aren't you? You're not scary," I whispered, rubbing the mask-like muzzle on its face. "You're just my cuddle bug, huh?"

It nodded and closed its eyes again, letting out a soft growl in confirmation. I couldn't take it anymore... I began placing light, playful pecks on its head, being gentle and avoiding its eyes. This is how I would greet my childhood dog, Arbor. I missed having a pet...

The Grateful Dead wrapped its arms around me in a sort of hug, clearly satisfied with the attention as I kept playfully kissing its head.

Prosciutto, however, was now doubled cover and curled up on the floor, shuddering and panting.

"I think you killed him, Al..." Illuso said, trying not to laugh long enough to talk.

I shrugged and gestured dismissively at him. "Eh, he'll be fine."

Prosciutto whined a bit and managed to speak. "Althaia,.. I- please... I can hardly breathe..." It looked like he was damn near a puddle on the floor.

I wore a mischievous grin. "Oh, yeah?"

He nodded, closing his eyes. " Detente, por favor, siento que estoy muriendo... "

Just for that, I placed a big, obnoxious kiss on the top of The Grateful Dead's head, kissy-noises and all.

Prosciutto let out a loud, muffled, exasperated groan that nearly sounded agonizing and the rest of the room howled with laughter. He was twitching and had his face against the floor. The Grateful Dead soon dissipated, and I turned my attention to Prosciutto.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked, gently shaking him by the shoulder.

"I just need to lie here..." he mumbled.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Something cold. For my face..."

I laughed and nodded, rushing to the kitchen and retrieving an ice pack for him. Once I got back to the living room, the guys were still making fun of him. It was pretty funny... I wrapped my arms around Prosciutto and brought him to a sitting position, then scooped him up and held him in a princess-carry. I don't think he was expecting it, but he barely fought it. He only cared about the ice pack.

"Woah, woah, hey! When'd ya get so strong, Green?" Formaggio called out, astonished.

"Have you been hiding some crazy muscles from us?" Illuso asked.

"Beautiful and strong..." Melone licked his lips.

"I started working out a lot when I joined Passione because I was afraid of being overpowered," I explained. "I can carry people no problem."

"Take me to my bed..." Prosciutto murmured. "I need to lie down."

I nodded and tightened my grip on him. "Let's go!"

I got him up the stairs just fine and nudged open his room door with my hips. He shared this room with Pesci. You could tell which side was which... Mostly because once side was minimalist, simple, dark, and clean, and the other side had no set aesthetic and looked lived in.

I laid Prosciutto down on his bed, then rested my hands on my hips. He looked so dazed and exhausted... I really did a number on him.

"I'm sorry, Pro... The Grateful Dead was just too cute to resist."

He let out a strained breath that I think was supposed to be a laugh. "I... You're the first person to ever say anything... nice about it."

I sat down by his legs. "I mean it, though... I didn't mean to like... hurt you..." I looked at the floor, shame creeping onto my face.

"No, Althaia..." he muttered. "It didn't hurt, it... It felt good. Really good... Like... indescribably euphoric... Almost agonizingly incredible, in a way... You were quite literally touching my soul."

I perked up. "Wait, really?"

He nodded, closing his eyes now, still holding the ice pack against his face. "I didn't really want you to stop... I just physically couldn't handle it anymore..."

I smiled softly and slid closer, now sitting by his chest. "So, you liked it?"

"Mhm."

"Well, so did The Grateful Dead." I chuckled.

"I've never seen it... act like that before. Like a separate entity..."

"Maybe you should spend more time with it outside of battle."

"Maybe..."

"Hey, Pro?"

"Yeah?"

"You feelin' better?"

He took a deep breath before nodding. "A bit, yeah..."

I glanced towards the closed bedroom door before resting my hands on his bare chest and hovering my face over his. "Do you think you could handle it if I kissed you? "

His eyes widened and he stared up at me. "Haven't you tortured me enough, woman?"

I smirked a bit and leaned down further. "Forgive me for adoring you..."

He closed his eyes and brought his hand up to cup the back of my head, and I used my free hand to run my thumb against his lower lip... I loved moments alone like this. I didn't know what we were to each other, but I didn't care. I just knew I wanted him.

"Wait, are we really finally doing this...?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

"I think it's a good a time as any, don't you?" I replied. Discreetly, though, thorny vines belonging to Rootless seeped out of my lower back and crawled towards the door, locking it.

He looked a bit surprised by the sound of the door locking, but then I watched a new kind of excitement fill his eyes. "Y-yes, I do. I really do..."

My face hovered over his for a moment longer, our shallow breathing now in sync as the both of us mentally prepared for what was about to happen here. It seemed to happen without my conscious command, but those same vines from before carefully crept up Prosciutto's body and wrapped around him, reflecting my excitement. He glanced down at them with a raised brow.

"It's my Stand," I replied with a nervous titter and a shrug. "Well, part of it, anyway..."

"Oh, really?" He wore a sort of mischievous grin I had never seen on him before.

"Yeah."

That's when this mind-breaking, stomach-churning, skin-tingling, addictive sensation wracked my body and I felt every inch of me shiver. I even gasped a little and gripped at his arms. I think he laughed at me. I looked to the side to see his hands running over the dark vines, avoiding the thorns.

Oh, God, he was right... This was pure, burning euphoria. I know this was revenge for how I made him feel earlier but I couldn't be mad about it. My entire body was humming and tense with energy. His touch echoed throughout me, and I could hardly contain the soft whimper I let out.

"Prosciutto," I cried out.

"How does it feel?"

I buried my warm face in his chest, muffling the whiny moan that left my lips. " Good! So good it hurts..."

"Exactly right."

He finally stopped and I was able to breathe again, hungry for air as if I had run a marathon. When I lifted my head again, he ran his fingers through my short hair and wore a self-satisfied smile.

"You have a pretty voice," he teased.

I frowned before grabbing the collar of his suit. "Shut up!"

Our lips collided in a passionate fever, and I was immediately breathless again upon contact. His fingertips made their way gently across my jaw until his hand found its way to the back of my head. My hands, which were on his chest, and his free one, lost themselves in each other’s bodies. It didn't take us long to find a heated rhythm, our heartbeats in sync, letting out shuddering breaths as it got harder to control ourselves. He pulled me onto his lap, and I let out a soft sound of surprise against his mouth, and he only returned it with a quiet groan.

This was perfect, it was like a fairytale kiss… if the fairytale was less magical, grittier, and with an undertone of need. I don’t know for how long we were losing our breath together, but I didn't care. Who was counting the minutes?

He wasted no real time wrapping his arms around me and rolling us over, now partially on top of me. Our limbs intertwined and for a moment I forgot we ran the risk of getting caught, doing something like this in the middle of the day... But again, I didn't care...

I just wanted him.

 

*

 

It was hard to stay quiet, but by the time we were finished, I was sure nobody really knew what had just happened between us. We were still left under the covers, our bare bodies dusted lightly with a film of sweat, our chests heaving as we caught our breath.

Oh, God... Did this really just happen?

I was left on my back, staring up at the ceiling while Prosciutto draped his arm over my waist, pressing kisses to my neck and shoulder. He seemed completely content with what had just happened, meanwhile, I was internally panicking a bit.

Formaggio said that we should discuss what we are to each other, figure out what we wanted from each other...

I guess our bodies did the talking.

" Dios mío ... Your body... es increíble, cariña, " he praised into the side of my neck.

Despite my nerves, I did chuckle a bit and trace the curve of his spine with my fingertips. "You break into Español a lot in bed..."

"I'm just really excited," he said with a huff of laughter. "Besides, I heard some Greek in there."

"Heh... Ένοχος όπως κατηγορήθηκα... "

"I don't mind... I was too distracted by what your strong, gorgeous body was doing to me."

"Well, yours is incredible too... Scars and all. I actually like them."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I meant it..." I could tell he was a little insecure about the scars on his chest, so I didn't bring it up during our 'activities', but I could now.

"You don't find them... hard to look at?"

"Oh, not at all... I used to work in a hospital. I have seen so much worse than some little scars, okay?”

He nodded. “Alright…”

"And even ignoring that fact; I couldn't care less about your perceived 'flaws'. I like every inch of your body just the way it is..."

He seemed stunned for a moment before he broke out into a soft smile. "I know being so… sensitive is not how a mafioso should present himself but… Thank you for this."

"Of course… And don’t ever apologize for being sensitive.” I reached out and held his face in my hands. “I like that I can connect with you. That you can tell me how you’re feeling. I told you: I like that you're sweet."

He met my eyes for a while before leaning in and kissing me once more, and I reciprocated without hesitation. We almost got lost in ourselves again before we broke away for air, and I looked up at his bare chest. I studied them for a split second, overwhelmed with the sight in front of me. This man was like a painting straight from the Renaissance, sitting above me, his ocean eyes reflecting the sight of me quite nicely. His hair was disheveled, and the deep color of his cheeks complimented those eyes of his. He was catching his breath, his hands on my stomach, holding himself up. With the way I was running my hands over his thighs, he looked like he was biting back a whimper. And finally, I looked back at his scars, and they were...

“Beautiful,” I said, breathless, staring up at him.

"What?” His brows raised.

“You're beautiful, handsome, hot, everything…”

He was straddling me at the moment, but he became shy upon my mentioning his looks and let up on me. “Althaia…”

“No, really…” I reached up and traced one of his top-surgery scars with my fingertips, gingerly grazing it. “And the scars aren't as bad as you think they are… I think they’re badass.”

“R-really?"

“Of course… It means that, in a body that wasn't made for you, you survived long enough to make it your own. That’s a battle all by itself."

He took a deep breath before nodding and laying down against me again, pressing a gentle kiss to my neck. “Thank you…”

I wrapped my arms around him and ran my fingers through his hair. “It’s my pleasure, Pro…”

He lifted his head just enough to look me in the eyes again. “There’s something about the color of your hair and how warm your eyes are that makes you so refreshing to look at.”

Those same eyes widened a bit, and I brought my hands to his bare shoulders. “You think so?”

“ Mhm… And your curves…” His head moved lower and he began kissing my bare stomach, hands squeezing my hips. He kept getting lower, lower...

A smooth sound left my lips and my back arched a bit. I was trying to stay quiet… I knew what was coming next. “What about them?”

“I’m going to memorize every inch of them.”

 

*

 

After an unexpected second round, we had to find a way for me to escape to my room without anyone seeing. I took cover in there for hours, I think. For most of it, I was curled up in bed and tracing all of the places Prosciutto had touched me and trying not to get lost in the memory. Other times, I was staring at myself in the mirror and freaking out, trying to figure out how the hell this even happened.

I had a certain glow about me now, though... Something had changed but I didn't quite know what.

Yes, it felt amazing, yes, I didn't want it to stop, but... now that it had, I was forced to face my feelings.

I had to be honest, but I needed some fresh air first.

The house was sleepy and quiet by the time I managed to leave my room and creep down the stairs. Good. I didn't need anyone asking me any questions.

I opened the front door once I reached the living area, expecting to be greeted by the pleasant night air, but I was instead greeted with the smell of burning tobacco. I turned to my left, my nose furled a bit and saw a familiar blond man staring back at me with wide eyes, face only vaguely illuminated by the smoldering cigarette.

His hair was wavy and loose at his shoulders and he quickly put out the cigarette and blew the remaining smoke left in him in the opposite direction of me.

"Since when do you smoke?" I asked, joining his side on the weird little bench.

He sighed and shook his head. "Only sometimes very rarely when I feel like I need to take the edge off."

"Are you worried about the same thing I am?"

"Probably..."

"You go first."

He paused, collecting his thoughts before speaking in a solemn voice. "What we have, what we just did... it's amazing. I don't want it to end, but... You said you weren't ready to see the side of me that is a hitman. It's a big part of me. I'm afraid, then, that this whole thing is conditional. That you only have feelings for an idealized version of me... And I'll always fall short of your expectations because of it. I don't... want something conditional. I realized today that I want something serious and real with you."

I listened with a heavy heart, ignoring the smell in the air, and scrambled to find an answer for him. I was afraid I wouldn't give him one that he liked.

"I-I am... I am afraid. You're right. But only because I don't have any experience with it. I'll learn with exposure. I'll adapt. And for the record, I... I'm willing to love you unconditionally once I become accustomed to everything," I explained before turning to face him and holding his hand. "And yes, maybe in my mind I'm only allowing myself to a version of you, but it's a side that does exist inside of you. The side I've seen. But I want to get to know every side of you... I want to love every version of you."

"So, you've... accepted that I'm a murderer?"

"In my own way, yes..."

"You just need more exposure?"

" Mhm. "

"Then... what are we now?"

He looked into my eyes, made paler in the moonlight, a hopeful spark in them. It seemed like he began to hold his breath, and I unknowingly did too until I spoke again.

"A couple. I'm ready to take this seriously if you are."

His lips widened into a beaming grin. He stared at me for a moment before pulling me closer. "Of course, I am, cariña ... Come here."

I returned the embrace and rested my head on his shoulder, nuzzling against him. "I love you, Prosciutto."

"I love you too, Althaia."

 

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Notes:

I really... really love The Grateful Dead. It's my fav Stand ever and its one of the cutest things in the world and I will NOT BE ACCEPTING CRITICISM!! Anyway, no worries, guys, this is as intimate as the fic will ever get (I'm not comfortable with writing anything more detailed than that). Also, listen to Them by Flavia RN!!! It's so good y'all

Chapter 38: Renegade

Summary:

Following a promotion, Diavella takes to her own devices and makes an unexpected ally...

Diavella's perspective

Venezia, Italia- 2001

 

The wind was howling as a thunderstorm rolled over Venezia and covered the world in a dreary nighttime glow. Rain pattered at my window and every little creak in the house or sound of branches scraping against the roof made me jump and pull my covers over myself tighter.

I was terrified of storms as a child and this night was no different. The wind sounded ghostly, like the agonizing screams of tormented souls, and it kept me wide awake every time. I was so scared that I was nearly shivering, sitting against my headboard and staring out into the darkness of my room.

Before me sat my closet door made of a heavy dark wood. At night, I always made sure to shut it because the void of darkness that poured out of it when the lights were off had always made me paranoid.

A crack of rumbling thunder shook the house and I gasped, glancing at my window. This night would be long and torturous, I feared. My attention turned back to my closet door, though, when it slowly creaked open, as if something was pushing on it from the inside. My big green eyes nearly popped out of my skull, and I yelped before jumping out from under my covers and dashing out of my room. I was not taking any chances with the monster in my closet. 

My hurried little feet took me all the way to my father’s room, and after I managed to open the old door, I rushed to his bedside. He was alone in this large bed that, as I understood it, he used to share with my mother. He only slept on one side of it, even if she wasn’t here. 

With tears in my eyes, I shook my father, mumbling in a whiny voice, begging him to answer me. When he finally groaned and stirred awake, I could barely see his stern eyes from beneath his now messy bedhead. He raised his head and studied me for a split second before murmuring a tired reply.

“What is it, Diavella? Why are you disturbing me at this hour?”

I could barely speak; my little heart was still pounding. “T–there was a m–monster in my closet!”

After a moment of staring, he sneered at me and sat up, looking down into my eyes. “Oh, foolish child, there’s no such thing as monsters that lurk in the closet or under your bed.”

“N–no, Babu, I saw my door open all on its own! Something was inside of it!”

He sighed and beckoned me closer. “My dear, these fictional boogeymen that only come out at night… They’re not real. No, the real monsters are made of flesh, and they can find you at any hour. They’re the people you see every day on the street, or the corrupt politicians and polizia running our country, the faceless mafiosi pulling the strings from the underground, your neighbor, your teacher, the clerk at the toy shop… The real monsters are those you least expect, and they look just like you and I, little one.”

I blinked my wide eyes, unsure of how to process his words, nor the sadistic grin forming on his face, which was made visible by a flash of lightning. 

He leaned in, holding his hands up as if they were claws and only creeping closer. “And as soon as you let your guard down…” He waited for the moment that the thunder boomed to pounce. “They get you!”

As he did that, I let out a little scream and ran into the master bathroom attached to his room, leaping into the shower and closing the curtain in order to hide. I covered my mouth to muffle my panicked breathing, hypervigilant of every little sound around me.

After a few minutes, I began to loosen up my shoulders, the room having been quiet. I didn’t hear my father run after me, and I didn't have the feeling that I was being watched. I moved a little closer to the edge of the tub, preparing to peek out from the side of the shower curtain. When I peeled one side of it back by only a centimeter or two, just enough to see, I was greeted with a calm stillness. It was dark and silent. There was… nothing waiting for me on the other side.

I closed my eyes and let out a small sigh of relief, but that soon turned into a scream when I felt two large hands snatch me up and lift me into the air. I kicked and cried out, trying to fight off whatever had grabbed me, but I began to hear familiar laughter emanate from the source of my torment. 

With tears falling from my eyes, I looked down to see my father’s face, a satisfied smile on his lips. I was both relieved and furious, and I’m sure the pout I was wearing showed that. He held me close to his chest, wrapping his arms around me in a more fatherly, loving manner now.

“You see, il mio piccolo diavoletta, even your dear old man is a monster. Am I scarier than whatever you think is in your closet?” he asked, carrying me back to his bed.

I nodded. “M–mhm .”

“Yet, I didn’t hurt you. And neither will your imagination.”

He set me down in bed before getting back into it himself. I didn’t understand fully why he had gone out of his way to mess with me, but with these words, I believed he was trying to teach me a lesson. And honestly? It worked.

He laid down, opening his arms to me, and I curled up in a ball against him, letting him hold me and wipe the tears from my face.

“Diavella,” he began, his deep voice a comfort to me despite his cruel prank. “To remain on top, you must become a monster. You must become what others fear. If not, you’ll always be the one running. Those who run are cowards, and cowards have shaky ideals and loyalty. They’re either renegades or renegades waiting to happen. Never be a renegade, child.”

I nodded again, sniffling and closing my eyes. “I won’t…”

“Good. I should hope that next time your closet or the wind scares you, you’ll face it head on and confront your fears. Do you understand? You are scarier than the dark, than the apparitions you conjure up in your mind, than things that go bump in the night. You are the monster. Act like it.”

Now with a new fire inside of me, I giggled a little and whispered in an inspired voice. “I’m the monster!”

He chuckled lowly and turned over on his stomach, keeping his arm over me as I laid beside him. “Yes, you are, little one. Now close your eyes and sleep. Nothing can hurt you when I’m around.”

I finally let myself settle down and said my final words for the night. “I love you, Dad.”

He didn't return my words at first, seeming to struggle with them for a moment before sighing and mumbling them out. “I… love you too, brat.”

I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face.

I felt my body urging me to wake up.

The first thing I remembered was waking up on the cold, hard floor. It felt dirty against my face. I groaned and tried to raise my head, but it was throbbing with pain. Something was wrong. I weakly raised my hand to feel the side of my head… There was some kind of dried, crusty substance sticking to me. Must’ve been blood.

That’s when I realized that this wasn't some shitty dream.

I shot up, looking around me in a mild panic, breathing a bit rapidly. I could hardly see it was so dark. From what I could gather, I seemed to be in an old, abandoned industrial warehouse, though. I scrambled to my feet and searched my person for anything potentially helpful. I was left with nothing…

I was wearing my usual clothes today, so I wasn't meant to go to school. I don't exactly remember what I was doing before I woke up, but considering I was in a cropped tank top, a fishnet shirt with bell sleeves, all of my spiked accessories, waist cloak, and my flare pants, it was safe to say I was taken from home or off the street. I reached up to my neck in a swift movement when I realized something… My mom’s blindfold! It was–

Oh, it was still here… Whoever kidnapped me had left it be. At least I could count my blessings. 

My boots sounded heavy against the concrete floor as I aimlessly walked around, trying to gain an understanding of my surroundings. I could only guess I was placed in the middle of this large building because it took me almost a full two minutes to reach a wall. I couldn't exactly see, save for the small cracks in the ceiling and walls that let in some light, so I at least knew it was daytime. I ran my gloved hand against the cinder block wall, trying to remember something– anything –about how I got here.

“Think, Diavella, think…” I mumbled to myself, closing my eyes tightly. “Could this be the work of an enemy?”

If it were the work of an enemy to my empire, I assume I’d probably be dead or more badly hurt. Perhaps someone is using me as a means to get a ransom from my father? No, that doesn't make sense. In the eyes of the law, he doesn't exist, and I have no father. If someone knows I’m close to The Boss, then it's because of word of mouth, not due to any sleuthing on a computer or in an old records office. 

If I’m here, then it’s most likely…

“A training session,” I said, looking around me with a newfound clarity. “Of course. This was implemented by The Boss.”

Normally I’d just call him my father, but that word was never to leave my lips in the outside world. No one could know who I was to him. And if this really was a training session, someone was probably watching me.

“I know what this is!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the empty, abandoned shelter. “I’ll find my way out!”

If I followed the wall, I’d eventually probably find a door, so I began walking again. I kept my hand against the wall, so I never strayed too far from it. It was incredibly boring, for the most part. If this wasn't a drill, maybe I should have a better sense of urgency, but I thoroughly believed it was, so I kept my pace.

I also believed I knew who kidnapped me… The only two people in the world who my father would trust with handling his biggest asset.

I was zoned out and in a bit of a daze when the sensation against my fingertips changed. Instead of rough bricks, it was a cold metal with what felt like chipped, flaking paint on it. And next to that? Wood.

I sneered to myself and ran my hand down the door until I found a doorknob, but when I turned it, the door wouldn't budge. Damn… A slight inconvenience, but nothing I can't overcome. 

In an instant, the door exploded into a hundred splinters, only a few chunks of wood hanging onto the frame for dear life. I stood on the other side, looking through into the dimly lit room I had used my Stand to break into.

My Stand hovered off to my side, a shadowy figure with bright, green eyes, lance-like shapes on its nose and hands, and rings and loops scattered throughout its body and clothes. It was a mysterious thing with, when I allowed it, a mind of its own. However, I wasn't to freely show my Stand when it wasn't needed in front of enemies, so, for now, it retreated back into me. 

With a skeptical eye, I peered inside the room. It seemed like a small storage room with a single flickering bulb illuminating the iron shelves, various empty, mildewed boxes riddling it. The further I got into the building, the more it smelled of time-passed and rot… I wasn't sure if perhaps it was the potential pests that call the place home, or its lack of cleanliness and use, or maybe even mold, but the air was thick here. 

Even still, I needed to proceed, and the only obstacle in front of me now seemed to be another door, weak on its hinges. When I reached the door, I turned the knob and, to my surprise, it opened. Huh…

Something wasn’t right.

I swung the door open and heard a clicking sound just over my shoulder. It seemed to happen in half of a heartbeat, but I felt an immediate, agonizing searing pain on the left side of my face. When I tried to close my eyes, something stopped one of them from closing. My vision was hazy, and it hurt so badly that I’m afraid I couldn't think, but all I could see past the blur, through my right eye, was a dark liquid gushing out of my face and puddling in my hand and onto the floor.

Blood… Something had stabbed my eye…

Would I end up blind like my mother?

I grit my teeth and tried not to let out a sound of pain. What nonsense. Every setback is temporary when time is your mistress.

“Rewind the clock, Kiss the Ring! Quickly, before I’m blinded…”

With that, my Stand manifested again, and I was warped back in time by only a few seconds. Without any pain, I watched what had nearly blinded me– a dart, it seemed –withdrew from my face and retreated into the darkness, back from whence it came. The blood that had poured out of me and the flesh that was destroyed returned to its valuable place. Everything reverted back in the blink of an eye, but I was still hyper aware of every little movement and change in space. It felt like both a split second and an eternity.

Now I was standing behind the closed door again. I know now that it’s rigged with some kind of trap. Luckily for me, I could now avoid it. Damn did it hurt, though…

I pressed my back against the wall and used one of Kiss the Ring’s ghostly hands to open the door for me, keeping flat so I wasn't in the actual doorway. I heard that same click from before and watched that projectile fly past me and into the emptiness of the larger room I had just left. Perfect.

Everything is going according to plan.

I slunk past the threshold of the door and into the next room. It was an open space with dirty, tinted windows high up on the wall, near the ceiling. It was enough light to see, though. There was a rusty railing in front of me that wrapped around a large pit… It smelled… wet in here. 

There was water?!

I rushed to the railing and looked over into the pit to see a large pool of dark, dirty, debris-filled water. It must’ve collected here over time from rainfall. This was bad news for me, though, and great news for who I now knew was behind this.

I had to get out of here quickly. Chances are, he’s already sensed that I’m here. And whatever I did, I also had to keep my mouth shut.

Kiss the Ring, though it lacked a visible mouth, emerged from my back only to speak for me, saying, in my voice, “I’m too old now to fall for your cheap tricks! If you feel like taking a beating, though, you should come out of hiding. I’m feeling generous today and I’ll give it to you for free!”

There. That should do it.

I ran towards the nearest wall with a window, looking around at what I could use to climb higher. The walls were a sort of sheet metal. It wouldn't be great for climbing unless I could stab through the wall with Kiss the Ring’s lances. It’d be a long shot, though. I looked up, and above the pool of water, there was a large chain hanging from the ceiling… If I could somehow jump onto it from here and swing all the way to the other windows, I could potentially break them with the impact of my boots. However…

That would require me to go over the water, which is exactly what they wanted. They planted the chain there on purpose. 

I’m a paranoid person with an exquisite attention to detail, and I’m not easily tricked or overtaken. It'd be a cold day in Hell before I fell for such obvious bait. 

Simple fools.

Kiss the Ring came out fighting like a bat outta Hell and began punching the wall in front of me, going from the ground up until it punched one of the windows into oblivion. It may have looked like I was simply lashing out, but as always, I was methodical. What was left after it was done were conveniently placed footholds all the way to the window. The corner of my dark lips turned upward, and I wore a smug grin before I began climbing.

With each new height I was closer and closer to freedom. I was sure, then, that I’d pass this little ‘challenge’ of theirs. Hah! If you could even call it that…

When I finally reached the window, I climbed out onto the ledge, avoiding the broken glass, and looked out into the world beyond me, and to my horror…

I was on the side of a vast river.

The water behind me was only a means to drive me out towards the real battleground. 

A glint of light hit my eyes before a swift tearing sensation hit my shins, and I stumbled. Dammit, that hurt! I clenched my jaw to prevent shouting in anger. If I did, I knew what could happen. My own speech would be robbed from me.

Another sharp pain ravaged my now bloodsoaked shins and, this time, I faltered and slipped off the edge. I began to fall but I still bit my tongue to keep my mouth shut. I couldn't panic, despite the less-than-ideal situation. I extended my arm out, and Kiss the Ring’s own arm shot past mine, digging its lance into the wall and slowing my descent until I could properly land on my feet. I growled and looked around me, using Kiss the Ring in order to speak again. 

“Show yourselves! I know you’re out here! Is this where the real fight happens, or are you two cowards that will only get blows in when I’m not looking?”

The only sound that replied to me was the sound of the breeze in the grass and the gently running water ahead. I huffed and marched to the water's edge, looking both ways. I was in the back of whatever this building was. It was most likely an abandoned water treatment plant, considering the location. There was no way to get to the front aside from walking across the roof or swimming to the other side of the building, and I sure as fuck wasn't getting in this water.

It was infested, I knew it was. I was certain of it when I saw an ominous, gray fin tower out of the water and circle in front of me. 

These were shark infested waters.

I covered my mouth with my hand and my brows furrowed as I silently commanded Kiss the Ring to attack what was shown of Clash. Almost as soon as it moved in, though, the fin teleported to another part of the lake. This was no good… He was in his prime battleground, and I was at a disadvantage here. Especially because they were probably pretty far away, and wouldn't receive a lot of damage from my attacks… Not that I wanted to hospitalize them or anything. 

I tried to glance behind me at the roof of the building. I knew they liked to have the high ground. But when I did, that same small flash of light hit the corner of my eye. I instinctively took off my mother's blindfold and stowed it away, just in time for a smaller version of Clash to latch onto my neck. I coughed and blood spewed from my lips, which I tried to keep tightly closed, but with this beast digging its teeth into my flesh, it was hard to. 

I knew that the intention wasn't to kill me, and I could tell because, despite the fact that Clash was going for my throat, the wounds weren't anything I couldn't handle. This was only a test, after all. However, their mercy may prove to be their downfall.

Kiss the Ring jabbed its sharp lance into Clash’s side. I knew it wouldn't be enough to permanently injure them. I heard a sudden yelp from somewhere on the roof. Hah! I’ve found you…

Again, I had Kiss the Ring rewind time by up to ten seconds, before Clash attacked my jugular. I was transported to my beginning position on the ground, and instead of running towards the river, I ran towards the building again. I climbed some stacked boxes in the corner before swinging on a pulley hook and landing on a drainpipe. I climbed my way up onto the roof, as silent as I could be. 

I crept across the roof, crouching and staying low until I saw both a head of ginger hair and platinum blond. They were murmuring quietly to each other, engrossed in tense conversation.

“Where did she go?” The ginger asked, sounding more concerned than the blond.

“Easy, Squalo. She’s deceptive, you know that. Just focus and use Clash to try and sense her.”

“I will, Tiziano… I’m trying. She has to be somewhere close.”

I was now standing behind them, looking down at them from the ledge over the little nook they were hiding out in. 

“Closer than you think,” I announced, my hands on my hips.

They quickly turned around to stare up at me with wide eyes, a mix of emotions on their faces. Squalo, the ginger, looked shocked and concerned. He was a little more high-strung than his partner. Tiziano was seemingly a little annoyed that they were bested. 

The air was tense and silent for a moment before they stood up and admitted defeat, joining me on the rest of the roof. Tiziano huffed in amusement before patting my shoulder.

“Seems that you passed the test, Ella,” Tiziano said, a calm expression on his face. Even when he was happy, he didn't ever fully smile. Still, you could tell he was content by the look in his eyes. 

“Sure,” I said, rubbing the side of my head, “but did you have to knock me out so hard?”

Squalo grimaced a bit and held my head, turning it to inspect the wound left on my scalp. “You’re not too badly hurt, right?”

I scoffed and lowered his hands. “Not anything I can't handle.”

“Speaking of,” Tiziano began, “how did you avoid the traps?”

“You didn't even get hit by Clash once!” Squalo exclaimed. “Well, except for your shins…”

“How did you do that?”

I snickered a bit. “You know I’m sworn to secrecy. That’s between my Stand and I.”

Truth is, I was hurt, but… they didn't know that. They never would. No one in the world knows that they’re but players in my little game when I rewound time. 

The pair stood in front of me, both wearing their own version of a prideful expression, the amber sunset growing ever brighter behind them. I looked down at my hand, holding my mom’s blindfold tightly. I knew what was coming next, and I was ready.

“Well, it’s our pleasure to declare that you have passed your final test.” Tiziano wrapped an arm around his partner. 

“Welcome to Unita Speciale, Ella,” Squalo finished, his hand on Tiziano’s chest. 

I smiled softly and nodded, looking back down at the blindfold before tying it back around my neck.

“You’re officially one of The Boss’ bodyguards,” Tiziano added. “So, you’ll start getting missions soon enough. You’ll have to be ready to defend The Boss and respond to commands at any hour.”

“And,” Squalo’s voice became grave, “you will be expected to put your life on the line.”

I nodded. “I understand. I’m ready for the responsibility.”

I sighed and walked past them towards the edge of the roof with my still-aching legs, staring out into the sunset. I really don't get out like this. I’m either always at school, at home, or on a mission, so… I was just soaking it in. I sat down on the ledge, letting my legs hang over it as I continued to look forward at the sky. I didn’t say much in response to my promotion, and I guess that concerned them.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Tiziano asked.

“I thought you’d be more excited. You’ve been working towards this for years,” Squalo pressed further. 

“I–I know…” I shook my head, trying to sort my thoughts. “And I’m happy, I am. But… This spot on the unit is only open because my mother died and she’s not here to fill her prior role… And I kinda wish she was here to see how far I’ve come.”

They sat down on either side of me, putting their arms over my shoulders. They moved in a sense of harmony; they matched each other's actions and almost predicted the other. They were just extremely connected and, though they never had to say as much, it was pretty obvious that they were a couple. I thought that was nice. They were the only two people that knew that I also liked the same gender. I liked to think of them as my uncles, sorta.

“Look, Zeppeli would be extremely proud of you, alright?” Tiziano squeezed my shoulder, looking down at me.

“Really?” I finally looked up at him, but quickly turned my attention to Squalo.

“Of course. You should have seen how happy she was when she found out she was having you. She’d love the woman you’ve grown up to be,” he confirmed.

I nodded, feeling both a warm sensation in my chest and a crushing guilt.

“Do you think, if there is a Heaven and she can see me now, that she’d be happy for me? I mean, she’s only gone because of me. It's my fault…”

It hit me suddenly and I couldn't control it, but I started tearing up, my bottom lip quivering.

“Ella…” Tiziano cooed, holding my face in his hands. “Death in childbirth is never the child’s fault.”

I’ve needed to hear that for years. No one has ever told me it wasn’t my fault, not even my father. I think that’s because, on some level, he still blames me for the death of his wife. He was very cold to me as a young child for a reason. I couldn't keep back the tears anymore. I just began sobbing and collapsed into Tiziano while he and Squalo held me.

“If there's anything I’m sure of, it’s that your mom doesn’t blame you for a fate you had no control over,” he continued.

I nodded and sat there with them for a while, letting them console me. Yeah, I felt like a sniveling baby, very unbecoming of The Boss’ guard, let alone the heiress of Passione, but… I couldn't talk about these things with my father, and I needed Tiziano and Squalo’s comfort and guidance. 

Maybe they were technically my subordinates, but…

They were my family.

 

*

 

Now as an official bodyguard to The Boss, I found myself wondering if I would live up to my mother’s legacy. She was my father’s greatest guard and led the unit. Now, Tiziano and Squalo do since they were next in the chain of command. As of yet, I don't lead the unit, but one day, I’ll rule that and all of Passione. 

The day after my official promotion, I found myself alone at home. My father had a tendency to go on digging expeditions in places like Egypt once or twice a year. He was after more Stand Arrows, which granted people who were not born with Stands the ability to form one. If their spirit was weak, however, it… could kill them, so… It was a slight gamble. But if low-level Soldados died in pursuit of a Stand, that wasn't my concern. I can't shed a tear over every death in my organization; else I’d never stop weeping.

Speaking of death…

I had noticed a strange trend in my empire. The hitman team, La Squadra di Esecuzioni, was hardly utilized as much as they could be. Most in the famiglia refused to trust them due to their job description, and no one really knew them. Their profession was shrouded in mystery and discretion. While my dad was away, though, I was going to perform an audit of sorts.

There were eight members, one of them being a medic. I had read their profiles and mission history. Some were more proficient than others… Who truly interested me, though, is this Risotto Nero guy. He’s never failed a hit, began leading the team when he was nineteen and has had a pristine record since. Very impressive. It was… actually pretty cool. Part of me just wanted to meet the guy for myself, I wouldn't lie.

However, the other members were different. The closest to Risotto’s record was a man named Prosciutto, who joined second. Past that, the order went as: Melone, Ghiaccio, Illuso, and Formaggio. These last two, Pesci and Althaia, had no kills under their belt. They must still be in training. Besides, I didn't exactly expect the medic of all people to have any hits. 

I was sitting in my father’s desk chair down in his office, skimming their files on my laptop. The house was so… lifeless without him around. I often found my mind wandering to useless trains of thought, like what the house would be like had my mother survived. 

I eyed the mysterious drawer in my father’s desk dedicated to mementos of my mother. I had taken journal 35 from it a number of weeks ago, but I never actually got around to reading it. I was actually a little nervous to know what truth laid bare on those pages, and if I was ready for it… Besides, I put it back in the drawer the next morning before my father could check to see if it was missing. I’d retrieve it again when I was prepared to read it.

Sitting behind this sturdy desk made me feel like the Donna already. Was I essentially playing dress up in my parent’s clothes, thinking I was the big boss? Sure. But it was my job to take command over Passione’s operations while my father was gone. Despite the fact that I was essentially playing pretend, it didn’t change the ego boost it gave me to know that the entirety of Italia and Passione was under my thumb right now.

Speaking of, back to the matter at hand…

I leaned back, clasping my hands together and thinking. I’d like to test the hitmen’s abilities. Their team doesn't get paid consistently, or a lot, but if I could downsize the team and cut out the weakest links, that would offer more income for the stronger hitmen. 

The only question now, was, would I contact them via email or meet them in person? If I emailed or called them, there was a chance that, somehow, it could be traced back to me. Look, I’m not a tech genius, so I don't know if that would be possible, but I don't need even a slim chance of that. I'm already paranoid enough as is. And, being the underboss, there was no one else I could litigate this task to. It was my job, and while my father was gone, I was left to assume full control and still cover my own responsibilities in my official roles.

No, it seems that I would have to meet with some of the most dangerous people in the world in person, all by my lonesome.

Fortunately, I was a monster, just like my father taught me to be.

 

*

 

After abusing my power and access to member files, I had found the address to La Squadra’s headquarters and was on my way. In case anything happened to me, Tiziano and Squalo knew where I would be– but not for what reason –and if I didn’t respond to their check-in calls, they were to travel to my location. 

Of course, I wasn’t too worried. I could handle my own.

I planned to uphold the role of a simple civilian who needed to order a hit. I had to pretend that I didn't know how this all worked internally and that I was only here at their headquarters by recommendation of a Capo. I decided to pretend I was the Capo’s goddaughter, and that’s why I was being given special treatment. But I needed to dress the part of a gaudy, spoiled civilian first. 

When I arrived at the hitman team’s… dingy… headquarters on my hot pink moped, I had my hair up in a high ponytail and styled with waves, wearing a pink tube top with a matching miniskirt, a bedazzled denim jacket, lots of gold and diamond necklaces and bracelets, leather knee-high boots, and skin-colored tights. This was… not like me at all . I felt like a fish out of water wearing this. I had even taken out my piercings, put in basic diamond studs, and wore ‘natural’ makeup with big, wispy lashes, girly blush, and pinkish lip gloss. I really hated this… I even had an ugly pink purse. 

I made my way to what I assumed to be the front door and knocked on it, telling myself I had to put on the act of a Capo’s goddaughter. I could act, couldn’t I? Ah, well… Only one way to find out. 

The man who answered the door was a blond in a sharp suit, a serious, critical expression on his face. This must be Prosciutto.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a less than generous tone.

Showtime.

I put on an obnoxious voice and smacked the gum in my mouth before introducing myself. “Yeah, yeah, my godfather, Capo Focaccia, told me where to go if I needed somebody dead for the right price.”

He looked me up and down with a mix of emotions on his face. It almost seemed like he wanted to laugh at me. “Uh-huh… I see. And who could you possibly need dead?”

“Ya gonna take my case or not? This ain’t information I’m givin’ out lightly.”

He looked back inside the house for a moment before sighing. “Let me talk to my boss. This isn’t the typical way to go about requesting a hit.”

“Sure, sure, but don’t make me wait too long. I’m sure my godfather is gonna ask all about how this went, ya know?”

He huffed and shut the door, and I took a rest from this persona I was putting on, rolling my eyes. God, I was annoying. I hated this type of person. 

After a few minutes, Prosciutto came to the door again, opening it and letting me in. “You can come in but don’t touch anything and don’t go anywhere I don’t tell you to.”

When I stepped inside, I saw a silly-looking green-haired guy standing behind Prosciutto. Hm… Perhaps this was Pesci, one of the trainees. He looked nervous. He looked like a coward. I wondered how far he’d make it in this life.

“Nice place ya got, I guess. Kinda boring, though,” I looked around, putting on that same nasally voice from before.

“We’re hitmen, not interior decorators,” Prosciutto grumbled. He seemed like the type to decorate, though, just a hunch. “Follow me.” I was about to when the green-haired guy did first. Prosciutto stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and spoke up in a stern voice. “Not you, Mammoni. Go sit down.”

“Oh, okay, Big Bro,” Pesci whined, slinking over to the couch.

Prosciutto then gestured for me to follow him down a hallway in front of us and I did. He brought me to a closed door on the left-hand side, then knocked on it. After the rumble of a deep voice, Prosciutto opened the door for me. 

Before I entered, though, he stopped me and spoke in a hushed, business-like manner to me. “Have half the payment up front, don’t waste our time.”

I nodded and walked into what I now knew to be an office once he let me past. It was dark in here… I looked at the large desk in the middle of the room and a foreboding, darkly dressed man sat behind it. Just who I wanted to see…

Risotto Nero himself.

“Take a seat,” he said in a voice that was even deeper than my father’s. 

“M’kay,” I replied, sitting down. 

“You know, usually hitmen are contacted over the phone or via email.”

“I’m a little more hands on, what can I say? Now, are ya gonna hear me out or not?”

He studied me with cold, calculating eyes for a moment. I seriously couldn’t tell what he was thinking by the blank look on his face, and it was kind of unnerving. I didn’t like how piercing his eyes were. I’ve always had a phobia of people watching me and his eyes definitely made it worse. I tried to stay calm, though, for the sake of my audit. He was challenging me now, I knew that. He was being the monster here… I had to be one back, just like my father would. I met his steely gaze and held firm, not breaking eye contact with him despite how much I hated it. It seemed I passed his test, though, because he finally continued the conversation.

“I’m listening,” he began.

“There’s these three doctors, right? They’re real jerk-offs that need offing, if you know what I mean. I’ve got their names and addresses right here.” I reached into my purse and placed a folded sheet of notebook paper on his desk, sliding it towards him. “Five million Lira up front for each, and an extra ten million for each job completed. If you make ‘em suffer, I’ll throw an extra ten million in there.”

His eyes widened a bit, and he looked over the names. “You really want them dead, huh?” He paused for a moment, his eyes flicking between me and the list. “Pediatric psychiatrist and psychologists…?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I confirmed. “What’s it to ya?”

He shrugged, then put the list in his pocket. “I’ll take that service fee now.”

“Perf,” I reached into my purse and began retrieving wads of cash.

This is for you, V.

 

*

 

There was a banquet tonight at a fancy hotel in Napoli for the psychology board of the country and countless doctors, insurance CEOs, healthcare politicians, presidents of pharmaceutical companies, and so on. There were so many rotten people in this hotel tonight.

The hit was to happen here since all of the targets would be present, and to complete my audit, I was here as well, to watch and observe. I wasn’t sure who would be put to the task of eliminating my targets, but I was partially hoping it’d be that Formaggio or Illuso. They were, after all, the ones who had the least numbers. I wanted to know if it was because they weren’t skilled hitmen, or if it was because they weren’t given enough jobs.

I was on the roof of the building, donned in my casual, covert attire, now with a mask over the lower half of my face to disguise my identity. There were large skylights overlooking the main party hall, and from the outside, I could see everything, and they couldn’t see me. It was the perfect place to watch. 

To my satisfaction, after about twenty minutes, I did see what looked like Formaggio and Illuso in nice suits making their way into the banquet. Perfect. Now I could observe their abilities. 

I leaned in closer to get a better look, but I jumped when a pair of scissors flew towards me and lodged themselves into the chimney next to me. My eyes widened and I turned around to see none other than Risotto in all his glory, standing on the edge of the roof of the parallel building, the full moon acting as a backdrop behind him. His dark eyes were boring holes into me, and his coat was flowing in the breeze. He had a scalpel between each finger on his left hand, and I knew he missed on purpose.

That was only a warning shot.

What was he doing here? Why was he attacking me?! I stood up, taking a step back, my eyes never leaving him. Maybe if he could see the rest of my face, he’d recognize me…

He didn't give me that luxury, though.

He disappeared into thin air, and I frantically looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen. How did he do that?! It must be the work of his Stand…

A scalpel whizzed past me and grazed my bicep. I hissed and gripped my arm. It came from behind me. Shit…

I would not be a renegade today.

I sprinted forward and jumped off the ledge of the hotel roof when I reached it. I was airborne for only a few seconds, but it felt like forever. I had to get this right. When I was close enough, I reached out and grasped a pipe on the building Risotto was just on. I managed to actually hold on, and I shimmied my way to the metal stairs closest to the pipe. Once I was on my feet again, I climbed the stairs and reached the roof, starting out in a mad dash and not looking back.

I had spent a lot of my childhood learning urban parkour, and damn was I glad for it now. There was a lot more pressure when it was to save my life from a proficient hitman instead of as a hobby, though.

I could hear small objects flying past me, but I didn't have time to look behind me and try to scout for Risotto. I just knew he was still on my trail. If he could keep up, I would have no choice but to fight him head on, and even if I knew I would survive, I really didn't need the inconvenience.

Besides, I’m sure he fights to kill, so his blood would be on my hands if we were to face off.

I looked around and found a metal pole scattered on the roof, so I picked it up. There was a power line that led from this building to the next across the street. I’ve got this. 

I jumped and swung the pole over the wire, grabbing the other side with my free hand and sliding down the line. When I reached the wall of the next building, I tried to kick my feet onto the lip of the nearest pipe, still hanging by the pole, but it started to… move in my hands?

I looked up to see it morphing form, slipping out of my grip. I gasped and urgently swatted out towards the pipe, trying to catch a hold on it. I had to use Kiss the Ring’s arm to extend my reach, and as I did so, the pole I was holding melded into an unrecognizable shape. I dropped it, now hugging the pipe for dear life.

When I turned around, I saw the hitman walking across the wire I had just traversed as if he were the most practiced acrobat. I could only assume that he was using whatever control over magnetism he had to lock his feet to the wire. He was steadily approaching, and just as my luck would have it, the pipe I was hanging onto was beginning to squirm.

I groaned and scrambled to reach the ledge of the building, praying that I had enough upper body strength for this. I needed to pull myself up. And if I fell?

Let’s just say Passione may not have an heir anymore…

I grunted and gritted my teeth, holding onto the brick as tightly as I could and trying to pull upward, using my boots to attempt to scale the wall. Panic was beginning to set in and I could feel my stomach weighing me down. I was raised to never show fear in the wake of a mission. I couldn't roll over and let myself be overcome.

Even if I rewound time, it wouldn't help me much. I’d still end up in the same situation.

Risotto reached the roof and now stood next to the ledge, staring down at me with no emotion on his face, not saying a word. My hand began to slip, and I desperately reset my grip, panting and whimpering in effort. I wasn't going to die like this. I wasn't going to leave my father all alone in the world. I can't die before I find out the truth he’s been keeping from me. I couldn't fail my mother’s legacy. 

Despite myself, and I suppose from the pure stress, I began to tear up. I watched Risotto as he watched me, my eyes glassy and wide. He then stepped on my left hand, digging his heel into my fingers. I cried out but ultimately bit my tongue. 

“Who are you and why are you stalking my team?” he demanded, his voice grittier than before.

I sounded so weak, but I replied anyway in an attempt to save my life. “I–I’m your client! I was undercover! I'm an auditor, I'm Passione!”

His expression softened, the pressure of his heel lessening as he reached down and pulled my face mask down. When he recognized my face, he took his foot off of my hand. “You’re just some kid…”

I was slowly losing grip more and more and my pleas were becoming more desperate as the tears kept coming.

I was just some kid right now. And he was the monster. He was in power.

“Please! I can’t die like this! Risotto, please…” I begged. “M–my dad, I’m all he has! My best friend, she needs me! I need them! I can’t die on them! Please! I’m so scared…”

He didn’t respond, his eyes just as cold as before.

That’s when my hands finally couldn't hold on any longer and I began to fall. Every moment of the short seventeen years of life I had lived flashed before my eyes. I had tried to detach my emotions and relinquish control, so my death came quicker and easier, but…

I had failed everyone.

My father would come home to emptiness, and he’d never know what became of his daughter until he turned on the news. For the sake of protecting his identity, he would never be able to claim my body. I’d be buried in an unmarked grave, and he’d never be able to visit me. I’m afraid of what he’ll become when he’s completely isolated from human contact.

V will lose the only person that ever looks out for her. I won't be able to tell her how much I adore her… how I really feel, and how I want to marry her someday, despite how stupid that is.

At least I’ll finally meet my mother.

My eyes had closed already when I felt a strong hand take mine and drag me onto the roof. It took me a few more seconds than I would have liked to gain an understanding of my surroundings and what had just happened. I was breathing with reckless abandon and whipping my head around.

When I realized I really wasn’t dead, I brought my knees to my chest and buried my face in them, sobbing. What a weakling I was. If my father were here to see me crumble under the pressure like this, he would tell me I was nowhere close to being ready to run this empire.

I felt someone sit down beside me before putting a hand on my back. It was soothing.

“Calm down, kid. You’re not dead yet,” Risotto said, his voice seeming… more human.

I sniffled and raised my head a bit. “Why did you save me?”

“Me, my teammates… we were once kids wrapped up in mafia affairs, losing our childhoods to Passione. Even if you’re a higher rank than me somehow, you’re still an innocent kid. It’d be pretty stupid of me to wipe you out just for simply doing your job.”

I fully looked at him now, wiping my eyes. “I’ve never been more scared in my life…”

He glanced at me, his detached expression seeming regretful now. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Hitman can be sorry?”

He, surprisingly, grinned a bit. “I’m not a robot. I may be cruel but I’m not completely devoid of guilt.”

“So, why did you attack me?”

“Simple. I was performing my own internal audit and saw a suspicious person either watching my men or attempting to steal their kills. What kind of leader would I be if I just stood by and watched that happen?”

I thought on that before nodding. “I would have done the same. I get it.”

“So, you put on an act when you requested the hit, huh? What were you going for?”

“Like… the annoying girls at school, to be honest. The ones that bully me.”

He huffed in amusement and nodded. “You were good. It was definitely annoying.”

“Yeah, I learned from the best,” I said glumly.

“I was bullied too as a kid. Just made me angrier. I became a teenage delinquent and was mean to my family instead of doing anything useful with it.”

“Why are you opening up to me?”

He shrugged, shaking his head. “I dunno. Despite the fact that it was a test, you’re the only person who’s ever paid my team a respectable amount. You’re obviously dedicated to your job and instead of thinking about yourself when you were about to die, you thought of the people who you love. I would have done the same if I were the one hanging there. The ‘thinking of those you love’ part… Not the pleading or crying. But you’re just a kid, so I don't hold it against you.” He then rolled his eyes. “Plus, I've got this girl on my team who’s made me reconsider the ‘no remorse’ lifestyle. I can see the world through her eyes now, and according to her, every life is precious. It’s a naive and childish way of thinking, but I think she’s making me too soft. But anyway, you care about your people like I care about my team. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. What’s your name, kid?”

“Ella. You can call me Ella.”

“Why did you want those doctors dead, Ella?”

I shrugged. “They hurt my best friend. They treated her like a mongrel just for being sick. I want them to suffer for making her condition worse. No one hurts her without suffering for it.”

He nodded, his expression becoming distant. I couldn't say why, but I was sure he understood my frustrations. He looked tense for a moment before closing his eyes. “You’ve got a strong heart too. I’m sure your friend is lucky to have you.”

“No, no… I’m lucky to have her. Without her, I’m not sure I’d always feel human. She connects me to my heart. She makes me forget about this life… The crime, the murder, the deception… She makes me feel like a kid.”

He opened his eyes looked ahead towards the hotel with a wistful expression. “The hits are on the house.”

“Huh?” 

“Consider this my treat. You’ve given me a good reason for them to be dead. Keep your money.”

“You’re serious?!”

“I’m always serious.”

I looked over his intense glare, which he used to emphasize his point, and I relented.

“Fine. Your treat,” I agreed. 

He looked at the small gash on my arm. “How’s that feel?”

I shrugged. “I’ve had worse. I’ll live.”

“How about your hand?”

“Like I said, I’ve had worse.”

“Strong kid. You remind me of myself in the past a bit.”

“Really?” Despite not knowing him well, I could sense how formidable this man was. He was intimidating, efficient, ruthless, and at the top of his field. From what I've seen of his skill and intuition, I wanted to be like him.

“Yeah.” He stood up and offered me a hand. “Come on, birichina. Dust yourself off.”

I smiled a little and took his hand, looking out into the city with him. I thought for a moment before looking up at him. “You got your phone on you?”

“Yeah. Why?”

I held my hand out and he hesitated but set his flip phone in my hand. I put my email into his phone before passing it back to him. “My email. You and your team ever need anything, you let me know. You’ve got a friend in Passione’s inner circle. I don't give it out lightly, so don’t fuck this up.”

He was quiet but I could sense an appreciative air about him. “Got it. Thanks…”

“You got any piercings, Risotto?”

He seemed surprised by my off-topic question, but he chuckled softly. “Uh, yeah. I used to have tons on my face but had them ripped out in an accident. I’ve still got these, though…” He removed his hood and swiped his hair out of the way to show off his ear piercings. He had a lot of them. About as much as me.

“Nice… I would get some facial piercings, but my school won't allow it.” I didn't want to show it, but I honestly thought his style was so cool.

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen. Once I'm graduated, I’m going to get way more piercings.”

He seemed lost in thought after my answer. I couldn't understand why, but he seemed shocked, though he hid it well. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“What's your favorite band? You seem like you’re into rock, obviously.” I laughed a bit and so did he.

“Metallica. You?”

“I like Soundgarden.”

“Hell yeah. You got any records?”

“Tons. I love vinyls.”

“Same. I’ve probably got fifty or more at this point.”

“Fifty?! That’s cool as hell! I need to get my game up.”

“Probably just me trying to cling to a part of my childhood. I had so many vinyls as a kid, and I wanted to be a rockstar.”

“I play guitar!” I looked up at him and smiled. “I’ve got a hot pink Stratocaster. It’s my pride and joy.”

His interest was really piqued now and his eyes showed something more excited than I thought possible from someone like him. “Damn, that's metal as hell! I messed around with drums when I was a teenager. Also sang. I got decent at it but I, y’know… became a mafioso instead. Lame, huh?”

“I wouldn't know. I’ve been in this life since birth.”

He raised a brow and got more serious again. “You were born into the famiglia? What are you to the organization?”

Shit… Maybe I got a little too comfortable… I’d have to lie. Hopefully he wouldn't catch on. “Yeah, my, uh… My mom… She was one of the top guards but she died in childbirth. I kinda got taken in by her colleagues after that, and now I’ve filled the post she laid her life down for every day.”

It was… partially the truth.

He shook his head and made a sorry face. “You didn't even have a chance to be a normal kid… This wasn't even your choice. Your fate was decided for you the moment that you were born.”

While that could be true, I couldn't imagine my life any differently. “I think everyone’s fate is decided when they're born. And I can't miss what I never had, right?”

“I guess… Makes me thankful that I at least led eighteen years of life outside of the grips of this organization.”

He looked… upset when he mentioned Passione. “What have you got against the syndicate?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Let’s just say that normalcy and security is hard to come by, and I miss it every day…”

We then fell into a thoughtful silence, just listening to the sounds of the city. When this was over, I’d be going back to an empty house, and I’d be left to face all the monsters in my mind all on my own. I guess that’s part of growing up. Maybe we both had our own demons, but they felt similar in some ways. 

“If you ever, uh, need someone dead,” Risotto began, “or… maybe some advice… or something… I’m good for it.”

I didn't have any siblings, but if I had to guess, I believed this is what it felt like to have an older brother. It was nice. He had no reason to be generous or kind to me, but he was. Maybe he really did see himself in me. 

I responded by side hugging him, and he didn't really react at first. Eventually, though, he put an arm around me and patted my shoulder, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

“Don’t get too sappy now, Carusa,” 

“Wouldn't dream of it. We’re both monsters.”

When we heard a commotion break out at the hotel a few buildings ahead, we knew the deed had been done. The doctors were dead, and V had been avenged. In any normal scenario, I’d pay Risotto now, but he was doing this as a favor for a friend, not as a contract. 

When we heard people rush out of the building and scream, we began to laugh. Maybe it was morbid, but a job well done is a job well done.

“Tell your men I said thanks,” I announced, my hands on my hips, a proud expression on my face.

“I will. You’ll get some safe, won’t you?” he said, looking over at me. 

“Of course. There’s no one else that could faze me. You might be one of the few people in the world that have bested me. In fact, you might be the only person in the world that I’m scared of.”

He grinned a little and patted my head. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Carusa. I’m sure you’re plenty scary yourself. I’m not going to hurt you and no one else will either.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

“I like the sound of that.”

I wouldn't be cutting anyone from the hitman team, no. Unlike most members of the famiglia, I’d learn to trust La Squadra, and I’d get them to trust me. I’d be keeping them right in my pocket.

Besides, I think it’d be a mistake to piss off the most dangerous, deadly people in the organization. I don’t know what it was, but I felt some sort of sixth sense crawl up my spine. There was something inherent, something in my blood telling me to take care of them so that they’d take care of Passione– so that they wouldn't become our enemies. Something in my bones told me that treating them like people and paying them well will save me a lot of trouble in the future. 

La Squadra will not become renegades under my watch.

 

 

-- Chapter End --

 

🎸🎸🎸

 

Notes:

Listen to Renegade by Paramore!! This chapter was a lot of fun to write, especially the Risotto parts! This chapter is also partly a celebration/introspection because of the Risotto Nero Observes light novel that I recently had the pleasure to read. If you haven't yet, please do! It's been translated to English!

Chapter 39: Miss Murder

Summary:

It seems she followed in her brother's footsteps...

Notes:

Thank you to my friend Abby, author of Dumb Killers, for their help proofreading this chapter!

Chiara's perspective

Milano, Italia- 2001

 

 

Many men had met their end by my hands, but they could never take the memory of the face or the name of their killer with them when they reached the gates of Hell.

Even by most in the organization, I was known by a codename only:

Giullaritine. 

I know, a bit “edgy” , but it was close enough to my stage name in the past and I somewhat identified with it, so the adjustment was easier. A bit of a play on words, mixing the Italian “giullare” with the French “guillotine” . What could you do, right?

I may have left the circus, but it’ll never leave my blood. I’m a performer through and through. I play a part, I put on a show, I achieve incredible feats and amaze the audience. That was the compass that guided my heart.

That, and finding my older brother.

Risotto Nero disappeared from home when he was only eighteen years of age, and I spent every waking moment since trying to convince myself that he was still out there somewhere, alive. That the sin of being an annoying younger sibling– as we all are –was not the reason for him abandoning our family.

After the ‘incident’ at the circus, I tracked Risotto’s path enough to find evidence, through word of mouth and description alone, that he joined Passione . Naturally, the syndicate is very secretive and doesn't just give information about its members out lightly, even to other members, so I was stuck investigating on my own.

Until then, I needed to pay the bills.

I stood on the ledge of a tall business center, about seven stories or so off the ground. I had already attached my grappling line to the ledge above me, tying the other end to my left ankle. When the sensor I placed by the window of my target’s room detected movement, I’d take action.

For now, though, I stared out into the city. It was late, but the nightlife was underway and all of the cars on the street looked like small beetles from up here. I knew deep in my heart that with each kill, I was closer to finding Risotto. I was good at my job as well. I was an independent contract killer. There was supposedly a team of hitmen slowly forming but I would have been the only woman on the team, and being that I was but a young girl, my Capo didn’t want to do that to me. I’m sure I could have handled it but nothing could be done to sway him. I think he means well, more than most in Passione , anyway. The bar is in Hell, though.

I sighed and tied my long, choppy, silver hair back into a ponytail and adjusted the ruffled collar I was wearing. Otherwise, I was disguised in a sleek, dark catsuit with a utility belt. 

I was making strides in the organization for my efficient but unique way of eliminating targets, and it was a small goal of mine to become the first female Capo in Passione . Maybe with that much power, I could order my brother to show himself, if he was even around or alive by then.

The sensor by the window detected movement and the monitor I wore on my wrist flashed green, indicating that it was go-time. I promptly stepped off of the ledge and let myself fall, dark eyes focused, my heartbeat never rising from a resting one. The rope I was attached to became taut as I hung upside down now, my free leg bending at the knee so that my boot could rest on the line. I had purposefully left the window open from the outside earlier.

I saw my target walk into his office with another man in tow. Hm, I wasn't expecting company, but I wouldn't leave a witness, anyway. A small hitch like this could be dealt with. Like a spider hanging from my web, I eyed my prey with no emotion on my face. My target turned around to look at me after the other man pointed at me in disbelieving shock.

The terror I saw on their faces evoked no response from me other than the completion of my job. I reached into my collar with my gloved hand and retrieved two metal throwing cards, holding them between my knuckles. With a flick of my wrist, the razor sharp objects found themselves lodged in the necks of the two men a meter or so in front of me. As they choked on their own blood and fell to the floor, I tugged the lever on my rope and it pulled me back to the ledge where I was previously standing. I’d take to the roof, going down the stairs and leaving the building through a back exit in a matter of minutes.

Another job well done.

*

I sat at the dining table with my laptop, my reading glasses over my eyes, scanning everything on my screen. For these past few months, when I wasn't issuing orders as Capo, I was hot on the trail of someone who could lead me to my brother. Now, whether they complied willingly to my request or required excessive force was to be determined, but I was hoping it was the former. I really didn't want to make things any more complicated than they had to be. Still, though…

If anyone stood in the way of my goals, I would not hesitate to kill them where they stood.

I shook my head of those nasty thoughts and looked over at Dante, who sat in the chair nearest to me. While Abbiati was away on a mission, he was to be my assistant. Actually, before Abbiati came around, he was my little assistant. He looked bored but I knew he didn't mind helping me. He was attached to me at the hip, even if he’d argue otherwise. I took him in as a boy and I consider him like a son to me. As I looked up at him, a subtle, reminiscent smile on my face, he caught my eye and side glanced at me. He wore an aloof expression.

“What’s up with you, old lady?” he muttered.

“Watch yourself,” I replied.

“C’mon, why’re you staring at me?”

I shrugged and let out a wistful sigh. “Oh, I don't know… Just thinking about the sweet little boy you used to be.” I playfully pinched his cheek.

He scrunched up his nose and swatted my hand away, refusing to look at me, but I could tell he didn't actually hate the attention. “I wasn’t sweet…”

“You still are.”

“Am not.”

“Come on, you can't fool me, Dante. I’ve held you in my arms, I’ve sung you to sleep, I’ve kissed your scrapes and bruises better when you’d play too rough, I’ve dried your tears. When I look at you, I see a competent young man who is actually a well-meaning, sweet boy on the inside.” I chuckled a bit. “But you want to be so scary… What for?”

His brows furrowed and his cheeks began to deepen in hue as he grumbled. “I–I am scary…”

“Then how come everyone here doesn't believe that? How come Gia is so gentle with you? How come you let Abbiati and I boss you around? How come you let Elektra cling to you and do your makeup when she gets bored, huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “Simple. I respect you all… But Elektra is a special case because she is persistent and annoying .”

“Tell me the truth; is that how you really feel?”

He stayed quiet, a scowl on his face. I continued to stare at him with an unwavering gaze and when his eyes flicked toward me out of nerves he finally relented.

“ Ugh, fine! I like her, alright? She’s a good friend. Like family to me…” He huffed and slumped over the table. “Happy?”

“ Bonu. Very happy! Now…” I looked back at my computer, tapping my keyboard before nodding to him. “That second file to your right– hand it to me.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” he mumbled absentmindedly before his eyes widened and he shoved the file towards me. “Boss! I said ‘boss’!” He looked like he was going to panic.

I only smiled in response, but as I opened my mouth to speak again, I cut myself off. I saw Stella enter the living area from the stairs and perch on the bay window, per usual. She was always sitting there, just watching the city, constant mascara tears staining her cheeks. I knew she needed more help than she was letting on, but until she opened up further, I feared there was nothing I could do without pushing her too much.

Dante shot her a look of mild curiosity, relieved to have the attention taken off of his slip-up. What soft, understanding gleam in his eyes that I did see at first was quickly replaced with faux grouchiness. 

“God, does she ever smile?” he whispered to me from between his dark lips.

“Sure, she does. The others have caused her to smile at least once,” I said, focused on my screen.

 

“I’ve never seen her smile.”

“Says more about you than it does about her, don't you think?”

He glowered at me, his gaze venomous. I knew I had riled him up. “I just don't wanna get all buddy-buddy with a civilian, alright? Sue me.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason…”

“What do you mean? That is the reason. I said so.”

“No, no, Caruso, I think you’re actually scared of her.”

His eyes widened and he paused before breaking out into a condescending laugh. “You think I’m scared of a little sad-sack like her?”

“Why else would you keep her at a distance for so long? I think she scares you because she’s delicate and needs gentleness and you’re afraid of fragile things. In your mind, you probably think it’s better to never get close to her, because if you do, you might say or do the wrong thing and get her hurt, right?”

“I'm not afraid of fragile things. I break fragile things.”

“No, I believe you believe that you’ll end up being the reason that something bad happens to her because you blame yourself for that day.”

He only stared daggers at me, jaw and fists clenched before kicking away from his place at the table and storming off. I could hear his stomping going up the stairs and to his room, where he then slammed the door. It’s fine, he’d get over it. He needed to hear that.

Upon the clamoring as a result of Dante’s temper tantrum, Stella looked over at me with a meek expression.

“Is he okay?” she asked, voice mouse-like and laced with a permanent melancholy.

“He’ll be fine,” I answered with a dismissive gesture.

She stood up and made her way to me, a hesitant yet curious pout on her lips as she held her hands behind her back. “What are you doing?”

“ Ah, just some research…”

“Is it… Passione research?”

I contemplated telling her. In truth, it only loosely had anything to do with the famiglia’s affairs. Besides, she meant well and she rarely reached out like this, so this was perhaps an opportunity to get her to connect with me so that I can learn more about her past… And her potential to house a dormant Stand.

“Not quite,” I began, gesturing for her to take Dante’s seat. “You see, I have this brother– my older brother, to be exact –and he disappeared when he was eighteen. I think I’ve tracked him down to somewhere in Passione thus far, and now, I’m trying to source someone who could potentially have access to a larger Member database than I. As Capo, I can read the files of many members, but not the more elusive ones. My reach only goes so far, so…” I took a breath before finishing. “I’m going to have to do the dirty work myself.”

She listened to me and I could see something in her demeanor change before she nodded. “That reminds me of my own brother…”

Finally… Finally, perhaps I had gotten her to talk.

“Really now?” I asked.

“ Oui. He was never a kind man but he was all I had, aside from my grandmother. He began to leave the house more often and for longer and longer periods of time in the months leading up to his disappearance. Then, one day, he was just… gone. Without a hint to where he may have been or even taking his belongings with him, he was gone. I fear that perhaps he’s dead by now… That I really am alone in the world, but…”

She kept her head low and I could see tears welling up on her lower lashes. I felt my heart ache for the girl, despite it all, because I, too, have felt her pain. I stood up from my seat and took my glasses off, casting them aside in favor of kneeling beside her. I placed a hand on her back and slowly, gently caressed it, like how I used to soothe Dante to sleep.

“Oh, Carusa, my wound bleeds just the same as yours does… We have been dealt the same unfair hand, and I feel sorrowful that you know what it’s like…”

She sniffled and looked over at me. “I’m sorry you do as well… Does it get easier?”

“In a way, yes, but the pain never ceases. You just become stronger… And it helps to know you aren't alone.”

“But I am alone,” she protested with a wavering voice. “My parents died in a car crash when I was three, my brother is missing, and my grandmother died a few months ago… I’m alone.”

I shook my head and pulled her into a hug, letting her rest against my shoulder.

“So long as I am alive, you will never be alone again.”

*

Come evening of that same day, I had retired to my bedroom to further research without any distractions. With Mora’s advice, I had decided to look into contacting one of the IT department’s members. One of them probably had access to files I could only dream of seeing… I didn't know who the head of the department was, but I’d schedule a meeting with one of them for tomorrow and inquire further there. Most of the time, requests like that would have to go through a Capo, but seeing as I am one…

My thoughts were interrupted when a freshly-showered Abbiati entered the room, a black towel wrapped around her perfect frame. Her short, dark hair was wet and clinging to itself, and her makeup was freshly cleaned off. I could tell because there were still some remnants of mascara under her eyes that made her look more tired than she was… But I liked it.

“Any developments?” she asked, looking through our now shared closet for something to wear to bed.

“Yes…” I closed my laptop and moved the files that I had strewn about into a neat stack on my nightstand. “I've requested a meeting with one of the IT department members. I’ll investigate further into how much access they have there.”

“Sounds like a good start.”

As she dropped her towel to her ankles, I was blessed with the sight of her body, devoid of any covering. Any time I could see her chest, my eyes were always drawn to the large, heavily-shaded, gothic cross tattoo that ranged from between her breasts to her mid-abdomen. The crosspiece spanned under each breast and covered the scars left from her augmentation. I liked it. I found it a unique way to conceal a medical procedure.

Still, though, sometimes I wondered if she got a cross specifically because she wanted to hide her supposed “sin” with religious imagery so that she experienced less guilt when looking at it.

I only saw it as one more reason to get on my knees and worship her. 

“You’re staring, Chiara,” she remarked while pulling her midnight-colored underwear into place on her hips.

I brought myself to focus again before grinning softly. “I apologize, my dear… I just find you so divine. ”

She let out a dry, sarcastically laugh as she met my smile with an unimpressed frown. “ Hah-hah … Very funny.”

“I jest, I jest. You inspire me to loosen up every once in a while, is all.”

“I’d have laughed if I hadn't heard it before.”

“Come here, Mora… Please?” I set my laptop on the stack of files and opened my arms to her.

She rolled her eyes before humoring me and coming closer. I looked up at her, and I was sure that I resembled a sinner praying for even an ounce of forgiveness in the pouring rain. She only smiled upon me, though, as I wrapped my arms around her waist. She draped her arms over my shoulders, tucking her fingers under the straps of my tank top and playing with them.

“Your presence always soothes me… Even if not for Stella’s being here, I think I would have asked you to share my bed eventually anyway… I’m partially thankful that it happened naturally,” I admitted while avoiding her crimson gaze. 

“Are you?” She swept one of my jellyfish strands away from my eyes before lowering herself down onto my lap. “I must say that I’m also grateful…”

Despite not knowing how to name the emotion I was feeling, my cheeks were dusted with a rosy glow and I became a bit awkward. “I'm so glad to hear that…”

Now my back was pressed against the headboard and I was holding her hips, my breathing becoming a tad nervous-seeming. She smiled at me, her hands running up my chest. I could feel it rising and falling under her touch and I’m sure I didn't look like much of a Capo right now…

“Do you mean to come off as flustered?” Mora asked, teasing me.

“I–Is that the word for this feeling? Hm… It seems– it seems so…” I returned with a voice less assured than I would have liked.

Oh, she was toying with me, and it was excruciating, but I loved every second of it. I wouldn't trade it for the world. There was nothing I wanted more in this moment than this gorgeous woman wrapping me around her finger and prompting me to produce any little sound or stammer she pleased. I knew she liked how I looked under her, and I admit that I enjoyed having to look up at her as she worked her magic on me. I may be the leader, but she knew she ruled my heart and I would follow her command after dark. She never wasted any opportunity to remind me why I was always the one having to cover my mouth to muffle what she reduced me to.

“Chiara…” she began, leaning in and pressing calculated, purposeful kisses on my neck as I swallowed thickly.

“Y–yes, Ma’am?” I whimpered in a breathy manner.

“Try not to be too loud as I work.”

“I understand…”

“Good girl.”

As she began to play me like a violin, I had to hold on tightly to the sheets and bite my lower lip in order to focus on following her directions. I never had to do that much work during times like these because she was much more comfortable with initiation than I and better at expressing and identifying her emotions. All she wanted me to do was lay down and let her take me to a silky, jasmine-scented paradise, and I didn't mind the arrangement at all.

Although, this night– not unlike any other –I didn't foresee myself getting a lot of sleep.

She’d make sure of it.

*

When I looked down at my hands, they were small and childlike. It felt almost alien but I didn’t question it. The children at school had been bullying me for looking and behaving strangely. They didn't like my eyes, and they said my hair made me look old. They said I was weird and creepy. It made me sad, and that day, they had decided to push me to the ground and pull my hair at recess. My outfit was dirty, and my hair was a mess, by the time I was waiting for someone to meet me at school in order to walk me home.

When my mother arrived there that day and saw the condition I was in, she marched into the administrator’s office and demanded to know what happened to me. She was a taller woman with the same hair and eyes as my brother and me. I know that my mother was sweet and loving, but she could be scary when she wanted to be, and most found her intimidating. I think my brother took after her a lot. 

By the time we left the school and were promised that my bullies would be supposedly punished, it was closer to evening than she would have liked it to be. As we walked home, hand in hand, she spoke to me.

 

“Chiara, I want you to know that just because others say your appearance or behavior is something to be ashamed of, it doesn't mean you should be. People say a lot of things. It doesn’t mean it’s all true,” she said, in a voice that most would describe as tough-talking.

I looked up at her with a confused expression. “Why would people say untrue things?”

“Because they're mean, because they’re not smart, because they don't know any better… There are a lot of reasons for it. You have to decide for yourself what is true about yourself or not. Don’t let others define you.”

“Really?” I thought for a moment before adding, “Is what you say true about me?”

She paused before smiling a bit and nodding. “Yes, what I say about you is true. I’m not mean, I'm smart, and I know better.”

“Oh, okay!”

When we made our way into the house, she was determined to clean me up before even worrying about dinner. She sent me to my room to put my school bag away and take my shoes off as she drew a bath for me. When I passed by my brother’s room, it was surprisingly open for once. When he saw me, he took his headphones off and stared at me for a moment. When he caught my gaze, I waved to him. He usually wasn’t interested in me or pleasantries at all, but this time, he took notice of my condition.

His face seemed more alert and cognizant of me than ever before, and he got up from his desk and crouched down before me. He was wearing a tattered t-shirt for a band I can’t remember and baggy dark pants with chains on them.

“What happened to you?” he asked, his voice deep yet still distant sounding, like it had been years since I heard it. “How’d you get all these bruises and scrapes?”

“My classmates called me names and pushed me down during recess and pulled my hair,” I replied. Despite my case, I sounded excited because my brother was paying attention to me for once.

His expression morphed into something angry and bitter and let out a huff. “Yeah, they used to do that to me too. You know why they stopped?”

“Why?”

“I started fighting back. Punch ‘em, bite ‘em, kick 'em, something. Don’t just lay down and take it.”

I looked down before my voice became small. “I don’t think I’m strong enough for that. Plus I’d get in trouble.”

He was silent before ruffling my hair. My eyes were wide and my chest bubbled with unbridled excitement. It was rare that he showed me any kind of affection. I actually couldn't remember the last time he did. I smiled and leaned into his touch before he pulled his hand back.

“Yeah, guess you’re not as tough as me, huh?” He shrugged before standing up. “I guess I’ll get my hands dirty for you til you’re old enough to fight for yourself.”

After that, he retreated back to his room and shut the door. I had no idea what he meant by that, but I was happy that he acknowledged me, nonetheless.

The next day, the schoolchildren teased me once more, and this time, like my brother instructed, I tried to fight back, but I was held down. Instead of landing any punches, I was the one who was punched. Of course, nothing was done about it because apparently none of the teachers saw it happen…

When school let out, no one was there to walk home with me. This was weird, but it didn't deter me. I began walking home alone, which I had never done before, so I was excited. The Sicilian coast was beautiful in spring and I was content with skipping down the path as the breeze blew through my hair. 

I stopped along the way to pick some flowers growing near a rock, and as I bent down, I heard the laughter of familiar voices. I stood back up and turned around to see my classmates pointing at me and jeering. I tried to hide my fear by putting on a mean face, but it wasn't very easy. 

“There you are, freak!” one of the boys shouted at me.

“Does your eye hurt?” a girl sneered.

“N–no! No, it doesn't hurt! I’m not scared of you!” I feigned bravery in order to scare them off, but I was afraid it wouldn't work.

“Maybe we should change that and give you a matching bruise on the other side!” another bully interjected. 

I bit at my quivering lip before once again attempting to stand my ground. “If you touch me I’ll– I’ll really hurt you this time!”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah! I’ll beat you up! And I’ll make you cry!”

Suddenly, their energy went from vindictive and amused to horrified, and they looked like they were ready to run away. I wore a prideful grin, my hands on my hips. Maybe I was scary!

That illusion was shattered, though, when my brother silently emerged from behind me. I was surprised that he was here. How long had he been here?

“So, you little shits think it's funny to mess with my little sister, huh?” Risotto began, approaching my bullies.

They didn't know what to do or say, but he didn't wait for an answer anyway.

He stooped and snatched all of them by their hair and arms in his large hands as they squirmed. Their panic only caused him to yank tighter. “Is this fun for you? Do you like how it feels?” he asked.

They all cried out in various protests, but he didn't let up.

“Touch my little sister again and I won’t stop at just pulling your hair next time! And don't bother telling your older siblings or parents because I’ll beat their asses too, just like I’ll beat yours! Got it?!”

They all whimpered and sobbed while nodding or promising they would leave me alone. For safe measure, he shoved them all to the ground as hard as he could after letting go of them, grinning and laughing a bit. I was in awe, staring at my bullies as they scrambled off with their tails between their legs, unable to tear my eyes away from it. I was only broken out of my trance when my brother tugged on my hand and pulled me along the path home again.

I shook off my shock and looked up at him with a beaming smile. “That was so cool!!”

He glanced down at me before his smile melted into a scowl. “ Tch. It’s whatever. I did it for fun, not for you.”

“Thank you.”

His cheeks reddened before he stuck his hand in his pocket and blew his bangs out of his face. “Shut up.”

“Risotto, I have a question…”

“...Yeah?”

“Do you think I look like a ‘freak’ or ugly? Do you think I’m weird and creepy?”

He was silent, seeming to fight with himself before he gritted his teeth and let out a strangled sigh. “N–no… You look like me. You look like Mom. You’re not creepy, you're annoying.”

I was a little disappointed at the ‘annoying’ comment, but thankful for the other sentiments. “Can we listen to your records when we get home?”

He rolled his eyes before patting my head roughly. “For that shiner you got, sure. You earned it. But don't get used to it.”

When we arrived home, I went straight up the stairs with him, following him into his room. Unlike my parents, his first priority wasn't to get me cleaned up and check on my wounds, no… He wanted to listen to music. He put on a Kiss album and we sat on his floor as he showed me some other records he liked. I was so happy to spend time with him that I forgot how painful my eye was. He gave me this new Aerosmith CD he had picked up from a local music shop and told me I could keep it. I even hugged him, but in an attempt to seem cool, he kicked me out of his room for that. I was still satisfied, though.

I stood outside of his door with the CD case in my hand, as content as I could be, but suddenly I was fourteen again and staring back at that boarded-up door. I clutched the CD case tighter in my hand before pressing my back against the door and sliding down to the floor, crying into my knees.

I wished he was here to tell me how to be brave without him.

When I opened my eyes, I was met with the glow of moonlight pouring in through the window I had accidentally left open. I brought my fingertips to my eyes and dabbed at the stray tears streaking over the bridge of my nose. Huh… Another dream. 

I could see Mora’s shoulders and dark head of hair peeking over the bedspread. Shit… I didn’t want to bother her with my childish nightmares. I gently ran my fingers over the curve of her shoulder. I was glad she was here. I was glad I didn't have to wake up from those memories alone.

I turned over to lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling. My short hair was messy, and it took me till now to realize I had fallen asleep naked. I sighed, finding myself blushing a bit at the memory of what Mora had done to me earlier… I should tell her that I love her more often. Maybe once she wakes…

I glanced over at her again before I finally lost the battle in my chest and clung to her, my hand resting on her hip as I spooned her. This was better than those dreams.

I only hoped I’d get back to sleep tonight.

*

I slept in a little later than I would have liked thanks to how tired I was after our… activities last night. That, and waking up from that pesky nightmare. Still, though, it was right back to business after I had gotten dressed, eaten breakfast, brushed my hair, and brushed my teeth. A simple routine, sure, but the spice of life lies in the little things.

I was at my place at the head of the dining table, laptop open and hands poised to type, tuning out most of the noise of the home around me. Abbiati and Gia were preparing to head out and collect dues, Elektra was in her room dancing around and singing loudly, and Dante had his face nearly pressed against the TV screen as he played video games on the floor. Stella was, as always, at the window. 

As my eyes filed through manilla folders, two voices caught my ears as the activity began to settle.

Stella had broken away from her city-watching to observe the game Dante was playing, seeming vaguely interested. He was intent, legs crisscrossed and head leant forward, focus driven. I think he used these video games as an escape of sorts, a way to get out frustration. I was surprised, though, when Stella was the one who broke the silence between them.

 

“There’s a cheat, you know, that you can use to skip over half of the racetrack,” she mentioned.

Dante seemed almost shocked she spoke up, but he could hardly afford her more than a flicker of wide eyes before he turned back to the game. “What?”

“An exploit. You can beat the track in half the time if you drive over the wall at a specific spot.”

“ Psh. How do you know that?”

“I had an older brother. He liked video games too, and I liked watching.”

Dante was silent for a moment, and I could see himself really battle with his own ego before he relented. “Where at?”

“When you come up on the next stretch of track before the leftward curve, there will be a patch of dirt that's slightly more inclined,” she pointed at the screen. “Hit it at an angle and drift over it so you land facing the opposite way when you get over the wall.”

He listened carefully, driving along in the game until Stella told him when to hop the barrier. He, however, missed it, and I could see him become frustrated again, squeezing the controller tightly.

“Dammit! Now I’m in third!” he shouted, his dark eyes boring holes into the TV.

“Not for long,” Stella said, getting down from the window and sitting beside him.

He was too busy looking dumbfounded at her forwardness to react as she took the controller from him, backed up, then drove over the barrier with practiced ease. When she handed the controller back to him, he hardly clutched it and just stared at her. She gestured to the screen with urgency in response.

“Go. Now! They're catching up!” she commanded. “ Allez!”

“R–right!” he stammered, shaking it off and focusing on the game again.

They sat there together and she watched him play for a few more rounds. He didn't offer for her to play with him, and she didn't ask for that. They both seemed content doing exactly what they were doing before, just with each other. It was nice to see them bonding, albeit strangely and in a distant way.

My attention was ripped away from the scene before me when my computer chimed. My eyes widened and I typed on my keyboard furiously.

“Finally!” I shouted, my voice uncharacteristically animated.

Dante and Stella whipped their heads around to stare at me before leaping up to inspect the situation. However, I think on instinct, Dante blocked Stella with his arm so she didn't get close, in case it was something gruesome or mafia related. 

“What is it?” Dante asked, expression serious and unwavering.

“My lead!” I replied, standing up. “I must go. Dante, you’re in charge. If anything happens, call me. Be nice to Stella.”

“What? I’m always nice to her,” he protested.

Stella even snickered a bit and he shot her a look, but she didn't stop.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” I announced before rushing out the door and to my car.

I hoped they’d be fine without me. 

*

When I arrived at the address emailed to me by my lead, I was looking up at an unassuming building in a residential side of town. Just like Passione to have an IT headquarters in such a painfully normal spot. Hiding in plain sight makes it easier to look over. I made sure my car doors were locked before approaching the building. It had some sort of buzzer attached to an intercom system by the front door, so I assumed it was here where the spoken ‘passcode’ would come in handy. 

I pressed the button on the intercom and a dingy, tinny trill erupted from it until I let go. Within the next second, a voice greeted me with only one word:

“Passcode.”

“ Rapporto, ” I replied.

There was a mechanical click as the door unlocked remotely and I was let in. How interesting… I wondered if there were hidden cameras that could see me standing at the doorstep. I was told in the email to travel up the small flight of stairs to the first door on the left, so that's what I did. When I knocked, it quickly opened, and I was met with a woman shorter than me. She had dark purple hair with orange streaks, amber eyes behind chunky glasses, fair skin, faint freckles, and snakebite piercings. She was also wearing purple lipstick and smoky eyeshadow that sparkled a bit.

“Are you Sambuco?” the woman asked in a voice that was surprisingly girlish and squeaky sounding.

I nodded. “Yes, I am. I assume you’re the person that reached out to me.”

“You’d be right!” As she let me into what seemed like an apartment, I hardly paid any mind to the decor. “What can I help you with? Where’s your computer?”

“At home.”

“What?” She studied me, nervously fiddling with her painted nails.

“I don't need IT help. I need Member file retrieval.” My demeanor went from pleasant to serious as I stared her down, challenging her to say no.

“File retrieval? O–oh, well, I–” she fumbled over her words, her knee-high boots not adding to her height as I towered over her.

“I’m a Capo, what harm could it do to just look up a name?”

She blinked a few times. The frilly outfit she was wearing combined with her low-hanging twin buns made her look too soft for this job. She gestured in defeat, taking a few steps back.

“Well, I guess it wouldn't, but I really can't do that!”

“Give me one good reason why you can't,” I threatened while I closed in on her.

“I–I don't have access to Member files! I’m just the IT person!” She covered her head with her arms, shielding herself and recoiling into a ball.

With that, I let up, my demeanor returning to normal as I chuckled. “Oh, I suppose that is a good reason, isn’t it?”

She slowly peeked past her arms, biting her lip out of fear, but she slowly simmered. “You're… not gonna hurt me?”

“No, I never really planned to.”

“Then why’d you act all–” she waved her hand at me, flustered, “–all scary?!”

I shrugged. “Call me a hardened mafiosa . I know how to get what I want. Now… how do I go about getting those files? Do you have a superior?”

She took a few deep breaths before nodding. “I do. I guess the best bet would be going to her. Let me see about something…”

As she began to make her way to a computer desk across the room, she tripped over a chair leg and smacked her shin on the edge of it. After nearly falling and catching herself, she let out a nervous laugh and looked back at me. I showed no emotion on my face but it was a bit funny, I’ll admit.

“Sorry, I’m a klutz. That’s why I can't be on the field, y'know?” The strained grin on her face revealed just how embarrassed she was, but I didn't mind.

Once she finally sat down and began typing at her computer, it took only about three minutes before she had everything she needed and reported back to me.

“Okay, let’s go!” she stood up, making her way towards the door.

“Wait!” I reached out, stopping her. “ Where are we going?”

“Oh, right!” She kinda knocked the side of her head with her palm in a joking manner before shaking it. “Sorry, sometimes I get a little caught up in here. Anyway, we’re going to my superior. She won't let you in unless she sees me, she’s too high up in the ranks for that. Do you have a car or should we take a train?”

I pulled out my keys before whirling them around my ring finger. “We’ll take my car. Just make sure to give me directions or an address. It’ll be faster than a train.”

“Cool deal! Let’s head out!” She bounded toward the door with a skip in her step. “I’m never really out in the field! This is exciting!”

I sighed to myself, entertained by her antics before asking her the most important question. “What’s your name?”

She looked over her shoulder to answer me, holding up a peace sign. “You can call me Cassie!”

“Then lead the way, Cassie.”

*

After we had loaded into my car and Cassie had given me an address in Firenze, we began to drive and make small talk. I never had a problem with it, as I consider myself easygoing and friendly enough, but she seemed nervous. I decided, like most things, I’d take the lead.

“How long have you been working for Passione?” I asked, my eyes on the road.

“Oh! Um…” she seemed lost in her thoughts as she counted on her fingers. “About… two years now? Almost three, I think. Time is tricky, especially when you're almost constantly in front of a computer.”

“I get that. You’re still pretty new to it all then, huh?”

“I guess so. I didn’t really intend to work for the mafia but after ending up on a government list for hacking some federal databases, Passione was the only place that would hire me and keep me out of jail, so… Here I am!”

She was… open. I guess some would describe her as too open. An easy target, even… But I admired it. 

“So, you’re one of those types of hackers. The ones that are actually scary.”

She tittered before looking to the floor. “I–I wouldn't describe myself as scary, I just had a hunch that the government was covering for a bunch of corrupt cops and Passione was paying them off, and I wanted evidence. And I was right! Those cops that killed those kids, it was all staged.”

I remembered the headlines and news stories at the time. Three polizia shot and killed a group of five boys, ages ranging from thirteen to twenty-one. Journalists believed the weapons found in their hands were planted there to justify the shooting and calling for the cops to be brought to justice. Nothing was done about any of it, though, and like most national spectacles, the spark faded when the case went cold and a new story emerged. It was an unfortunate thing, really.

“I remember reading about that… The news said weapons were planted to frame them.”

“They were!” she confirmed. “The guns were never fired. There was no gunshot residue on the boys’ hands, despite the reports. And I know why it all happened!”

“And why was that?”

“These boys, they were peddlers for a low-rank drug dealer in Passione, but after he got caught, they were convinced to testify. Passione paid off the dirty cops to shut them up for good before the trial. Of course, serving justice for those boys would require the police department to own up to the fact that they take bribes, which they won't. But I've seen the facts and figures. I wasn't fooled for a second.”

“Such a shame… It really doesn't surprise me, though. This is the world we live in, these are the powers that rule over us.”

I became lost in my thoughts for a moment, mulling over my place in the organization. I wasn't a good person by any means, but I had to believe I was better than them, for my own sanity, I suppose. I was only brought back when I heard a familiar name pop out of Cassie’s mouth, though.

“The oldest boy– that Accardi one –no one identified his body so his remains are still sitting in a morgue somewhere. Poor guy…”

My eyes snapped to her. “What did you just say?”

She became nervous again upon my questions and piped down. “His body was never claimed, so–”

“Did you say Accardi?”

“Yeah. I forgot his first name by now, though.”

Stella came to mind. Her older brother disappeared around the same time, without a trace… It was disturbing and suspicious, to say the least. She shared a last name with this man. Perhaps that was the reason he never came home…

“When you get back to your computer, send me everything you have on this ‘Accardi’ boy.”

“What? Why?” Cassie asked, brow raised.

“He just… deserves a proper burial, is all. I want to see if I can help,” I lied. It wasn't any of her business,

“Okay, I can do that! That’s really sweet of you, y’know…”

I nodded despite the undeserved compliment. “Yeah, well… Nobody deserves to be forgotten.”

And Stella deserved closure.

*

When we arrived in Firenze, my legs were in desperate need of stretching. I wasn't the type to sit still for long periods of time if I could help it, so travel had always been troublesome to me. I liked driving more than taking trains, though, because at least I had control over the movement. 

We were at yet another unassuming apartment building, this one a bit nicer than Cassie’s. We traveled to the stoop and I stood behind the shorter woman, letting her handle getting us in. After knocking and waiting for a moment, a tall man with long, dark brown hair in multiple ponytails and red eyes answered the door.

“Hello?” He met Cassie’s eyes first before looking up at me. Immediately, confusion graced his features and he spoke directly to me. “Risotto? Wait, no… You’re a woman…”

Like a sleeper agent, my whole body activated upon hearing my brother’s name and I became intense and dead set on the man in front of me. I pushed forward towards him, my eyes searching his for more information.

“How do you know that name?! Where is he?!” I shouted. I usually never lose my cool, but with this, I couldn't help it.

His brows furrowed before he attempted to shut the door on me, but I continued to push forward, gripping the edge of it till my knuckles turned white. 

“Who the hell are you? Get away–,” he grunted, but I won in the end.

Once I was inside, I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the wall. “Who are you? Where is Risotto? Where is he?!”

The commotion, I suppose, alerted the real owner of the home– Cassie’s superior. She was a woman with burgundy hair and red attire, wearing a mask over her face and leaning on forearm crutches. She looked less surprised than I’d expect for someone who’s home was being intruded on, but her eyes did widen a bit and I heard her gasp before calling out to the man I was currently struggling with.

“Illuso!” She attempted to shuffle towards us, but it was no use.

Illuso reached one of his hands toward a mirror in the entryway before disappearing entirely. When I was left with nothing between my clenched hands, I quickly turned my attention to the woman in the living room… who had also disappeared. Shit… They must be Stand users too. 

“Cassie, go back to the car,” I murmured to her in a stern voice.

“But what if you–?”

“I don't need anyone else getting hurt.” I passed her the keys. “Now, go.”

It seemed like she wanted to fight me on it, but she was nervous and accepted my order, fleeing to the car. Now the rest was left to me…

I carefully made my way to the place where the woman was last standing, eyeing everything critically. Something allowed Illuso to escape me, whether that be a Stand or some kind of little trick. I had to be careful here, alone in closed quarters with a hostile situation on my hands. 

A sharp pain sliced through the skin of my cheek, and I raised my hand to it, feeling warm blood trickle down my fingers. He really wasn't playing games… Attacking from a hidden position was smart, but I was smarter.

It seemed he reached for a mirror on the wall before disappearing. Now, if I were an ordinary person, I’d think nothing of it, but as a Stand user, I know they work mysteriously, and therefore, a mirror-based Stand is entirely possible. I looked around at any and all mirrors that could be surrounding me. There weren't too many, which was good news.

If I broke the mirrors, would that destroy his ability to evade me, or would it provide him more avenues in which to do so? I followed my gut and decided to go with turning the mirror over so that the back faced me. After I did so, I stepped back and waited. My heart was beating faster than I would have liked, but I had faith I’d come out of this unscathed. 

“ Hah!” I smirked a bit as nothing happened. So, turning the mirrors is the answer.

I went around and turned around any and all mirrors I could in the house, being careful to watch my back. By the time I was done with the front rooms and bedroom, I had to tackle the most dangerous room of all.

I made my way to the bathroom, being careful to study the large vanity mirror before entering with a sheet from the bedroom in my left hand. I’d trap that bastard till he had no choice but to tell me what I wanted to hear. As I reached up with the sheet in my hands, intent on draping it over the mirror, I was pushed back a few feet into the wall in the hallway, unsure of what happened and catching my bearings.

My Stand had appeared in front of me, spindly arms crossed over its chest, the large, cartoonish gloves that were its hands balled into fists. I blinked a few times, feeling a painful energy reverberate in my abdomen. I had been hit by a Stand… or rather, my Stand had sensed the attack and took the hit for me.

Perhaps this would work out in my favor.

I stayed back, leaning against the wall and keeping my eyes forward, refusing to cover the mirror. I’m sure this looked counterintuitive, but my Stand, Hypocrates, was in its preferred territory right now.

A black and white arm jutted out of the mirror and made contact with the x-shaped arm bracers that donned Hypocrates’ arms. I let out a small hiss, feeling the pain in my own arms, but each blow would be worth it in the end, because I had a trick hidden up my sleeve. 

When I didn't recall my Stand, whatever this other Stand was– and I assumed it was Illuso’s -kept delivering hit after hit to Hypocrates. The painful energy continued to build up in my body, festering into a ball that began to weigh me down, but I never faltered and neither did Hypocrates. After about a minute of continuous pummeling, I suppose Illuso realized he couldn't break me down, so instead, he attempted to talk to me.

“Who the hell are you and why are you here?” he asked, his voice both echoing and oddly distant.

“I’m a Capo. Capo Sambuco,” I answered, panting a bit due to bodily strain. “You’d do well to cooperate with me.”

“A Capo ?” I heard the woman ask in a quieter, more blasé voice.

“Mar, go find her file and confirm,” Illuso ordered, now allowing himself to be seen on the other side of the mirror. 

In the reflection, it looked like he was standing right behind me, but when I swiftly turned to look to my side, no one was there. How strange… I looked back at the mirror, my expression stern. I heard the woman reply in an admittedly-irritated tone.

“Don't tell me what to do.”

He huffed, rubbing his forehead. “Can you just work with me here?”

“No. Don't tell me what to do.”

There was a silence that I raised a brow at before the man returned a strained, almost pathetic whisper.

“Darling, please… I'm trying to seem intimidating…”

“...Fine.”

He then turned back to me with his red eyes, reassuming a smug demeanor. “Why did you come here?”

I crossed my arms over my aching chest, not pulling my Stand back. I was keeping it activated in the event he pulled something. To be fair, I intruded into what might be their home. They deserved an explanation and I failed to give them one in my haste. 

“An IT worker named Cassie drove me here. I need a Member file retrieved and she told me her supervisor may be able to help me,” I explained calmly.

He studied me for a moment, eyeing my facial features critically. “You really do look familiar…”

“I know why,” the woman interrupted.

“What did you find, Marsala?”

A red gloved hand with a golden bracer reached out of the mirror and I stood my ground, on edge. Marsala crawled forward out of the mirror, bearing down on the countertop and staring at me with her red eyes. She was so… expressionless. I was reminded a bit of myself in how neutral she presented herself outwardly. She pointed at me before saying something so haunting that my heart nearly fell out of my chest.

“You’re his sister.”

I didn't have time to waste. I simply stepped forward and recalled my Stand, and with it, the pain in my body disappeared. “Where is he?”

She opened her mouth to speak but Illuso darted forward and pulled her back into the mirror. “This isn't information that's given out lightly.”

I was getting fed up. I had waited too long to be held up now. I balled up my fists at my sides and stepped forward, brows furrowed. 

“Risotto Nero, born-and-raised in Sicilia, should be twenty-eight years old by now. He has silver hair and red eyes with black sclerae. His favorite bands are Metallica, Kiss, Minor Threat, Black Flag, Slayer, and Anthrax. He has a deep love for vinyl records and collects them. He’s mean, scary, and violent, but secretly caring. When he was eighteen years old he ran away from home and I haven't seen him since. I tracked him down and at least knew he was probably a member of Passione. I have nightmares about losing him every night and every year I celebrate his birthday by myself.”

 

I didn't consider myself an emotional person, but in this sudden burst of anguish I found myself tearing up and fighting through the knot in my throat that threatened to erupt into a sob. I spoke again while biting the inside of my lip to avoid letting it quiver.

“I have dedicated my life to finding him and I had to bury both of our parents without him. Please, let me see him before I have to bury him too…” I finally finished, letting out a heavy, loaded breath.

What followed my rant was silence, the two in the mirror staring back at me, Marsala unamused and Illuso fighting with his ego. He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes tightly and thinking before sighing.

“I’ll set up a meeting… Until then, I’m watching you. If you so much as any little thing that makes you suspicious, I’ll kill you. Understand?”

I wanted to see Risotto now. I was impatient after waiting for so long, the thing I wanted most now just close enough to brush with my fingertips. However, in the same vein, I was so close to reaching my goal that I had to play this right. I’d be on my best behavior if this man would lead me to my brother… Perhaps it was inconvenient now that he was acting as a barrier, protecting Risotto from outsiders, but part of me felt relieved knowing there was at least one person out there who cared enough about him to put their life on the line for him.

“Fine…” I agreed. “Do what you must. I will do anything necessary to see him alive and well.”

With that promise, Illuso made his way out of the mirror, his height making his descent from the countertop labored and awkward. When he was on his feet again, he reached his hand out and carefully helped this Marsala woman out of the mirror too. I took a deep breath and walked into the living room, giving them space to show that I meant no harm. 

This man was gentle with this woman, obviously doting on her, keeping his hands hovering over her shoulders cautiously. Though, she walked with no care and did as she wanted, telling me that she was the one in charge. I wondered what their story was, but at the same time, I didn't care that much. I had my own story to focus on. 

“I always thought you and Risotto were connected,” Marsala said, sounding uninterested.

“I have been desperate to reunite with him… All my life has been spent wondering what went wrong and what could have been.” I gingerly ran my fingers over the now drying flesh wound on my cheek.

“I had no idea he had a sister…” Illuso admitted. “I’ve known him for almost ten years, lived with him for most of it… He’s never really opened up about his past. Many of us haven't.”

I nodded, casting my gaze low. Of course, it made sense to be reserved and mysterious about your origins in Passione, but it hurt slightly that he hadn't mentioned me even once. “I promise you that the blood that runs through his veins also runs through mine. I’ll do anything I can to prove to you that I only want the best for him, that I only want to see the man that he’s become and apologize for whatever I must have done to cause him to abandon our family so long ago.”

Illuso shook his head. “This is crazy… I guess this proves just how little I know about the guy.”

“If it makes you feel better,” I began, “I probably know as little as you do, only about his past instead of his present.”

He crossed his arms over his chest before nodding to me. “So, let's get to know each other. I’m Illuso. I’m part of La Squadra di Esecuzioni – Risotto’s subordinate."

I placed my hand over my heart before stepping forward and speaking with conviction, waiting my whole life for this moment. 

“I am Capo Chiara Sambuco Nero. I’m Risotto’s younger sister and I will not rest until I see his face.”

 

--End Chapter--

🎪🎪🎪

Notes:

YOU SHOULD listen to Miss Murder by AFI! also sorry again for an unofficial hiatus, lots of life stuff- depression, parents separating, cheating scandal, had bronchitis and was bedridden for like a month... sobs BUT IM BACK!!! Still getting into the swing of things and the AU Tumblr is kinda dead but I'll be posting Hypocrates art up there so you should check it out @theplayersau THANKS TO WHOEVER READS THIS and sticks around for my bullshit!!

Chapter 40: Popsicle

Summary:

Some things are too sweet to pass up...

Notes:

Part 2 coming out shortly! Listen to Popsicle by bludnymph!

Althaia's perspective

Firenze, Italia- 2001

 

I'd been a member of La Squadra for about half a year at this point. Over that time, we had all become closer, especially since they now knew a bit about my life before this. Risotto was still the only one who knew the full story, though... He was the only person in the world who said my birth name to my face anymore, and he called me that in private. I wasn't sure why…

Maybe because he liked the name, or maybe he wanted to remind me that I was still the same successful person deep-down... Or maybe he was just a jerk, who knows. The last one was extremely likely.

But I’d also become friends with everyone. Some nuts were tougher to crack, like Illuso and Ghiaccio, but I won over the latter. Formaggio was my mentor and had even saved my life before. Melone was a slow process but I was warming up to him. Pesci was nervous, and I'd definitely have to put more work towards that if I wanted to truly get to know him… And Prosciutto…

Prosciutto and I were in love, but we were keeping it a secret from everyone. I know that eventually it’d come out and things would get complicated, but for now, it was simple, and I liked that. He was sweet, and loving, and he was really good in bed… Ah, I’m getting lost in thought. The point is, I found a good partner in him, and I was excited to see how our relationship would progress. 

I was in the kitchen putting away some dishes I had made while baking, humming quietly to myself. Typically when I was minding my own, the boys did too. And that usually involved a lot of bickering.

Today, Formaggio had a song stuck in his head and he had been going around the house singing it. And Ghiaccio, ever quick to react, had finally had enough of it.

 

"Formaggio!" He yelled.

 

"Huh?" Formaggio sat down on the couch, kicking his legs up on the coffee table.

 

"Shut your damn trap! Just because you have a song stuck in your head doesn't mean we need to either!"

 

"What? Jealous of my beautiful singin’ voice?" he teased with a grin.

 

"Why can't you just put on some headphones and listen to it?" Prosciutto asked, voice just as sober as ever.

 

"'Cause I wanna sit out here with you guys and watch the game," he replied.

 

Ghiaccio growled a bit before exploding. "Then keep your damn mouth closed and watch the game!"

 

Melone attempted to calm him down by putting a hand on his shoulder, but Ghiaccio only turned around and twisted Melone's arm behind his back.

 

" Ah! What the hell?! Why do you always do this to me?!" Melone whined.

 

Prosciutto nudged Ghiaccio's leg with his foot, speaking through gritted teeth. "Let him go."

 

"Heh," Illuso sneered, "you guys are children."

 

"Shut it, 'Ponytails'! You're wearing a puffer jacket in August!" Formaggio snapped.

 

"At least I'm taller than a hundred-eighty-two centimeters," he retorted back. "At least I get more assignments than you."

 

"I'm gonna beat your ass, Illuso..." Formaggio said in a low tone, glaring at him.

 

Pesci, who did not contribute to the group-squabbles, only offered up a whimpering protest. "I think we should all stop fighting..."

 

Prosciutto was too busy trying to separate Ghiaccio and Melone to respond much.

"All of you: act like adults!"

 

I had been listening to the whole ordeal from the kitchen, keeping my back turned so they couldn't see me preventing my laughter. I was also watching the timer for the oven... Three, two, one…

That familiar ding prompted me to pull the baklava out of the oven and transfer each piece to a cooling rack. After a few minutes, I had plated six of them and set them on a large dinner tray. By the time I stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, the six men were still arguing.

And now Formaggio and Illuso were in a full-on spat, while Pesci just looked scared out of his mind.

I sighed and shook my head... Children, all of them, save for Prosciutto. I brought my fingers to my lips and let out a loud whistle, catching their attention, and they all quickly perked up and turned towards me. I approached the coffee table and set the tray down, then placed my hands on my hips.

 

"Eat this and quit fighting," | commanded in a bit of a scolding tone. "You can't run your mouths if they're full of baklava."

 

"Don't challenge them, they'd find a way..." Prosciutto straightened the lapel of his suit jacket, recovering from the whole thing.

 

The men relented and each took a plate, and it seemed like everything beforehand was water under the bridge. I went back to the kitchen and got myself a plate as well, then came back.

 

" Ah, look at our patron goddess, delivering us from chaos," Melone began in a silvery tone.

 

I shook my head and sighed, then sat in the empty single chair that Risotto usually sat in. "Why is my being Greek so fascinating to you?"

 

"I admire the beauty of the Hellenistic period," he replied.

 

"More like you admire the nude statues," Illuso muttered.

 

"Well, who doesn't?" Melone shrugged, playing it off.

 

"Isn't there like a, uh, goddess for like... food and stuff?" Formaggio asked, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth.

 

" Tch. Why would I know? I was raised Greek Christian Orthodox," I huffed, trying to suppress my answer. Of course I knew it... I actually enjoyed the mythology of my home country.

 

"There's multiple…” Ghiaccio said.

 

I raised a brow, eyeing him up and down. I didn't take him for someone who was interested in it, but, let's face it, he was a huge nerd…

 

"Yeah," Formaggio said, gesturing around a bit, "but I remember there bein’ a specific one for like, baking and home stuff, y'know?"

 

At the same time, Ghiaccio and I both blurted out, "Hestia." The others looked between us for a moment, then Formaggio pointed at me, laughing a bit.

 

"See?! I knew you knew! You're holding out on us," he finished with a singsong voice.

 

I rolled my eyes. " Ugh, of course I know! I just didn't feel like talking about it..."

 

"That's like asking if an Italian knows about La Divina Commedia di Dante... That's part of the literary history of the country." Ghiaccio set his empty plate down, seeming calmer than usual.

 

I gestured towards him; glad someone finally understood me. "Yes! Exactly! Honestly, Greek classics are really important to global literary history. Americans probably even learn about it in school."

 

"They taught us about it in España as well," Prosciutto added.

 

" Huh, that's pretty cool… I guess I hadn't thought that much about España til I met you. I had always wanted to see their beaches, though, but I know that nothing will ever be better than the beaches in Greece," I said with a bit of a prideful energy about me.

 

"Italian beaches are just as nice," Illuso added.

 

That got me thinking a bit, and my amber eyes looked around the room as I imagined myself lying on a warm beach, relaxing with the waves crashing.

 

" Hm... Now I'm in the mood to go to the beach! It is August, after all," I said in a bit of a soft, thoughtful manner. “Fall will come soon and it’ll be too cold to swim.”

 

"Melone's not allowed at most anymore," Pesci said.

 

I raised a brow and though I had my suspicions, I still regretfully asked with a bit of a grimace on my face. "W-why? What happened…?”

 

"The incident..." Formaggio ominously uttered.

 

"I don't want to talk about it," Melone finally interjected with a bitterness about him.

 

"Well, at least we know that if Ghiaccio tries to drown any of us, there'd be a doctor there to do CPR..." Illuso said.

 

"I'd piss him off just so that Althaia could give me the 'breath-of-life' ..." Melone grinned with a sultry energy about him.

 

My brows furrowed and I scowled at him. "We don't do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation anymore, smartass."

 

"Too bad..."

 

"No, I think it's perfectly fine."

 

"Melone, mind your manners," Prosciutto warned.

 

"Yeah, shut it, horn-dog," Formaggio huffed.

 

"Don't use me in your weird little games, you freak…” Ghiaccio muttered, standing up and bringing his plate to the kitchen.

 

"If you wanna get weird, I can get weird," I declared, crossing my arms over my chest, staring daggers at Melone. We were friends by this point but I was still testing the waters with him.

 

The guys raised their brows and quickly looked me over before looking back at Melone, but Prosciutto was the first one to protest.

 

"Again, I wouldn't challenge him," he said.

 

Formaggio pointed at me. "Ya think you're gonna 'out-weird' Melone, Green? Not a chance! Ya don't even know what you're getting yourself into!"

 

Melone leaned forward, a tense but playful gleam in his eyes. "You're welcome to try but l highly doubt you could say anything that could make me reconsider my 'breath-of-life' comment."

 

"I'd rather give it to your sister than you," I spat out, a smug expression on my face.

 

Take that, jackass.

 

The whole room went silent for a long moment in response to me. I watched Melone's eyes widen until his entire face was painted with shock. He tensed up like a sculpture and nearly recoiled into himself. Illuso had a bit of a red tint to his awkward expression and he kept his head turned away from the group, chin resting on his hand. Prosciutto blinked a few times and tried to catch my gaze, so I met it with a calm, knowing expression and shook my head subtly. With that, he realized I wasn't being serious and relaxed. I wasn't sure yet if Prosciutto was the type to get jealous, but he was logical, and jealousy wasn't. I didn't worry much. While most of the guys were busy picking their jaws up off the floor, Formaggio was the first to shake it off. He laughed out loud, but it partly sounded nervous.

 

" Hah! Lookit you go, Green! Ya shut 'em up!"

 

After he spoke, the rest of the room seemed to relax a bit and chuckled off the whole situation, congratulating me.

 

Melone finally took a deep breath and offered up a hesitant reply. “W–well... It seems that I underestimated you. You certainly surprised me..."

 

I grinned and pumped my fist in the air. "See? Told ya!"

 

"Wait, but you... You weren't being serious, were you?" Illuso asked cautiously. He seemed oddly nervous and invested. He always did when Marsala was brought up and I knew why…He was the jealous type.

 

I shrugged and twirled my short hair around my finger. " Mm, well, Marsala is pretty enough and an interesting person, but I mostly said it for the sake of rubbing it in Melone's face."

 

"Oh, huh..."

 

"But if I had to choose at all, l'd choose Marsala." I crossed my leg over the other and placed my hands on my knee.

 

"What?!" Melone squeaked.

 

"'Cause she doesn't say weird stuff! She behaves like a normal person…

 

"I wouldn't exactly say "normal" ..." Illuso muttered, eyes cast away from the group, a sour expression on his face. I think I had riled up his envious side again.

 

"Fine, fine, whatever. New topic..."

 

"Althaia, how do you say, 'Thank you for dessert' in Greek?" Prosciutto asked calmly, setting his plate down.

 

I was a little surprised but I ultimately smiled softly and responded in kind. "Ah, that would be: " ευχαριστώ για το επιδόρπιο. ”

 

His eyes widened a bit and I could read the expression on his face. He didn't have a clue how to repeat it back to me, but he didn't want to admit that. I rarely ever saw him embarrassed or unsure, it was kinda cute and silly.

 

He turned to face the ground and instead mumbled, " Uhm... Thanks..."

 

I giggled a bit before I moved on. "We should plan a beach day... I think it'd be fun. I mean, we should do something together outside of the house besides training. None of you ever go on morning jogs with me."

 

"That's 'cause mornin’s are for eatin’ breakfast and watchin’ old cartoons on the TV," Formaggio replied.

 

"I actually agree,” Ghiaccio added.

 

"Okay, well, we can go to the beach in the afternoon," I said.

 

"I'll go, but I'm not getting in the water. I'll stay on the sand," Prosciutto said. “I can guard our belongings. Besides I… burn easily.” 

 

“Yeah, whitey, ” Illuso sneered.

 

Prosciutto’s brows furrowed a bit and he popped Illuso in the back of the head with his hand, which prompted Illuso to flinch and glare at him. 

 

Formaggio chuckled, joining in. “Ah, give 'em a break, ‘Luso. Not his fault he was born the blondest, pastiest guy in España.” 

 

“Yeah. Does it hurt to see in the sun with those blue eyes?” Ghiaccio teased loud enough for us to hear from the kitchen.

 

“All of you shut up now,” Prosciutto grumbled, jaw clenched and body hunched forward as he leaned on his knees. He was getting pissed.

 

“Well, point is, Prosciutto’s going,” I interrupted, changing the topic. “Anyone else?”

 

"I'll go too," Pesci added in a quiet voice.

 

"Alright, two down! How 'bout the rest ‘a ya?" I cheered.

 

Formaggio shrugged. " Eh, why not? I'll go."

 

“I’ll ask Marsala if she wants to go too!” I said. It’d be nice to spend some time with her, get to know her better.

 

"I’ll go!” Illuso blurted out, nearly jumping out of his seat.

 

The rest of the group eyed him suspiciously.

 

“I–I mean, sure… Why not?” He shrugged, trying to seem uncaring and nonchalant. “It’d be nice to… get some sun… I guess.”

 

I laughed a little and Prosciutto tried to hide a smile. We knew.

 

"I don't like beaches. There are always loud, annoying... screeching children there! And they run around and kick sand everywhere," Ghiaccio ranted, practically seething. “And it's hot! I don't like when it’s hot… I get pissed off when I’m too hot.”

 

"What's it gonna take to convince you?" I called back to him.

 

"A secluded part of the beach and forty-eight hours to think it over," he replied. "And I can still back out if I want to."

 

"I can do that."

 

" He's not the hard sell," Formaggio interrupted. "It's Risotto. If you can manage to make him agree to go to the beach, I'll give ya 100 Lira."

 

I laughed a bit. "You're on!"

 

" Pfft! Yeah, right. That guy's like a vampire. I think he's allergic to sunlight," Illuso said with a guffaw.

 

Just as he said that, Risotto came out from his office, ducking under the doorframe of the hallway and heading towards the kitchen. "I grew up in Sicilia with nothing to do but listen to records and tag any surface I could stand within a meter of. I've spent most of my life outside."

 

"Then why don't you come to the beach with us soon?" I got up and took the tray full of all of the empty plates to the kitchen, following him as Ghiaccio passed us.

 

"And sit around having to tip-toe around a bunch of civilians? No thanks." He picked up one of the pieces of baklava and began eating it.

 

" C'mon, " I cooed, "I think it'd be good for team morale, y'know?"

 

"What the hell would I do at the beach?"

 

"I dunno... Stand in the water, swim, sit down and listen to your MP3 player, your choice."

 

"I can listen to music anywhere."

 

"Hey, you work hard all the time! Why not take a day to just relax and connect with nature?"

 

"I can relax at home."

 

"See? That's your problem. You need to get out of the house for something besides work."

 

"I told ya that ya wouldn't convince him!" Formaggio shouted from the other room.

 

Ugh… This would be harder than I thought.

 

“Can I bribe you?” I asked Risotto, putting on a grin.

 

He raised a brow at me. “With what?”

 

“I dunno… Name your price.”

 

He thought for a moment, and I could see the cogs turning in his mind. I swear there was the faintest pink tinge on his cheeks before he shrugged it off. “I don't want anything from you.”

 

“Oh, come on! There's gotta be something!” I pleaded. 

 

“No, nothing. I’m not going.” He was about to say something else before his cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. When he saw the caller ID, he quickly rushed off. “I have to take this.”

 

I heard his office door shut behind him and shook my head. That was weird… He usually never gets calls. I wondered who it was. Oh, well! I had to come up with a plan to get him to join us…

 

*

 

A warm summer’s night had rolled in again after the sun set, and the crickets were chirping like there was no tomorrow. The house was a little toastier than normal because we were trying to save money on bills by not running the AC unit as much. That left me clad in my skimpiest bralette and shortest shorts in order to try to stay cool. I was a little bummed that Prosciutto was already asleep. He would've loved the view.

And I did too, staring at myself in the mirror and feeling a tad prideful over how good I looked. Wait! I was getting distracted!

I needed to confront Risotto about earlier. There was something he wanted from me– I knew I saw an idea flash in his mind –but it seemed like he didn't want to say it around the others. I'd get to the bottom of this… I wouldn't sleep till I got him to come to the beach with us!

I crept out of my room before staring at his door. He was awake, based on the way light poured out from under the crack in the door. I quietly knocked, waiting patiently for him to grant me entrance, and when he did, I stepped inside, pushing the door open. I wore a bit of a smile and waved to him. He was sitting in bed shirtless and reading a book, short hair free of its covering. He raised his eyes toward me, dark eyes scanning me, as if the reason for my being here would be written on my skin. 

 

“What do you want, Amalthea?” he gruffed, looking back down at his book.

 

“Just wanted to catch up, is all!” I lied, closing the door behind me.

 

At that, he finally set his book on his nightstand, next to a bottle of wine, and looked me over now that my body wasn't obscured by the door. What was once a grimace turned into something more flushed and awkward, though he hid it well. His eyes soaked in the sight of me in these short, tight clothes before he cleared his throat and met my eyes again.

 

“Fine… I guess we can ‘catch up’, ” he agreed.

 

“Yay!” I quickly scrambled into bed with him. Even if this was just a ploy to bribe him, it’d still be nice to spend time with him. His breath smelled of wine, though. He had clearly been drinking, at least enough for me to notice. “So, what's goin’ on in your world?”

 

He shrugged. “Paperwork, payroll, assignments. The usual.”

 

“Yeah, well… How are you doing?”

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes, you. Like, you as a person, outside of all the other stuff.”

 

He thought for a moment before sighing and leaning back against the headboard. “Fine, I guess… Just busy and tired as always.”

 

A perfect segue! “You know what would help?” I think he could read it on my face.

 

“Don't say it,” he huffed.

 

“A beach day!”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Come on. Is that the reason why you’re in here?”

 

“Maybe…” I said coyly before continuing. “But hear me out! It's proven that time in nature and exposure to sunlight can reduce stress and improve overall health, and beaches are especially relaxing!”

 

He groaned and rubbed his face. “I don't want to go to the beach.”

 

“ Please, Risotto ,” I begged in a sappy voice, batting my big eyes.

 

“Why do you want me to go so bad?”

 

“‘Cause we’re all going! And it'd be fun, and I’d like you to spend time with us. I'm sure the rest of the guys would agree! Plus, I…” I looked down, a bit of a shy smile on my face, continuing in a small voice. “I think it’d be hot to see you in a swimsuit…”

 

His eyes widened and he stiffened up. “W–what?”

 

“Nothing!” I gestured dismissively. “Just consider it. Please?”

 

He crossed his arms over his chest, brows furrowed in thought. “What is there to even do at a beach?”

 

“Well…” I leaned back with him, resting my head on his shoulder as I spoke. “You can swim, relax on the sand, have a picnic, get drunk, find sea shells, mess around in the sand, try to spot sea creatures, fish, maybe pick up chicks… The day is whatever you make of it!”

 

“Does it have to be on the sand, though? Can't we bring lawn chairs? And what about an umbrella?”

 

“Of course! I planned on it! I also planned on packing some snacks, sandwiches, and wine.”

 

He stared ahead, and I could feel him considering it. “And no one will bother me?”

 

“I’ll make sure everyone leaves you alone! It’ll be a day for you to hang back and focus on yourself.” I still hadn't fully convinced him yet and I knew it, so I nudged him, pressing further. “When I tried to bribe you earlier… I could tell you had thought of something you wanted. What was it? What couldn't you say in front of the others?”

 

He fought with himself before mumbling an answer. “It was nothing…”

 

“Didn't seem like ‘nothing’ . Come on, Ris, tell me. I won't judge!”

 

“It's stupid…”

 

I poked his cheek, which was admittedly flushed, and pestered him into speaking. “I bet it’s not! You can trust me! Tell me, please?”

 

He was beginning to get flustered now, actively fidgeting a bit and wearing a nervous frown. Whatever it was must be a big deal if he was getting this held up. I waited patiently. I knew he’d just get it over with and say it soon.

 

“I–” He cut himself off, groaning and shutting his eyes tightly before just spitting the words out. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

 

My eyes shot open and I went nearly slack-jawed. Did he… did he seriously just ask for that? Him? Risotto asked for a kiss? Was this a dream? This seemed so out of character! Then again… He looked serious. He was avoiding eye contact and his face was red now. 

 

“Really?” I asked, dumbfounded.

 

“I–I told you, it’s stupid! I shouldn't have said anything… Forget I said anything.”

 

“Hey, it’s okay!” I cupped the side of his face in my hand, making him turn to face me. “It’s not stupid, alright? I was just caught off-guard.”

 

He searched my face before, to my surprise, leaning into my touch. “I just… That one time you tackled me in the kitchen… We almost kissed and it was– It was nice… I dunno. This is so stupid. It was a passing thought earlier, you don't have to. Like someone like you would want to kiss someone like me anyway…”

 

My brows scrunched with pity and I caressed his cheek with my thumb. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think that little of yourself or do you think I’m that shallow? Either way, I’m offended at the insinuation.”

 

This was hard for him to talk about and I knew it. He was uncomfortable right now. The therapist was the one confiding in someone about his deepest troubles, not the other way around. But I was determined to be there for him like he’s always there for me.

 

“It’s… hard to explain. You’re so cheerful and caring, and you have no problem showing affection. You’re gorgeous… And I’m not. I'm a mean bastard who has to fight with myself to show even the smallest amount of kindness or affection because I get so nervous I wanna puke. And I’m–” He gestured to his scarred face. “I’m hideous compared to you. I don't deserve you.”

 

I was angry at the thought. Sure, he was grouchy and rough around the edges, but he had so much good in him that he couldn't see! And he was hot!

 

With a stern expression, I squeezed his jaw and forced him to look at me, eyes locked with his.

 

“Don't you say that about yourself! And don't erase all the good things about you either, just because you can't see them! I see them. Our teammates see them. You’re protective, you’re caring, you value your team, you’re loyal to those you love, you have a soft side that you try to hide but is very much there, you’re intelligent, you’re observant, you’re responsible, you do anything and everything for us, and at the end of the day, you are a good leader. And I have eyes, and I can say with certainty that you’re so hot I drool over you. Why do you think I stare at you so much? You’re gorgeous too and it's frustrating that you can't see that!”

 

I was met with a sight I had never seen before. A glassy, doe-eyed Risotto with a bewildered expression on his face, and a thick sheet of blush on his cheeks. He wasn't expecting to hear that in his whole life, probably. But I believed every word of it.

 

“Risotto,” I added, finishing my point, “to use your own words: I’ve been waiting for someone like you for a long time.”

 

After a moment, he reached his hand up to grasp mine, closing his eyes and relaxing into my now gentle touch with a bittersweet glow. 

 

“I love you, Amalthea,” he murmured. “More than I’ve let on. Thank you.”

 

I smiled softly, feeling my chest flutter a bit. He sounded so sincere. Maybe wine made him more open and affectionate.

 

“Of course. C’mere, Ris,” I urged, pulling him into a hug, which he returned. “I love you too. I’ll always be here for you.”

 

While he was still trapped in my hug, he confessed something to me. “I… like it when you call me all that stupid stuff. When you call me puppy-boy and whatever. It makes me feel… weak, in a special way.”

 

I could tell he was buzzed by this point but I didn't care. We were both having a good time. “Do you, really? I can do it more, of course… that is if you wanna be a good pup,” I teased.

 

He groaned a little, squeezing me tighter, his voice strained, his words a tad slurred. It must have been really coming on now. “I– Yes… I want that so badly…”

 

I pulled away to look at his drunken expression, and he seemed to be a mix of embarrassed and smitten. I giggled and held his head in my hands, tousling his edgy hair. He closed his eyes once more and let out a sigh that almost sounded like a whimper. He was so cute!

 

“Who’s a good boy?” I asked with a playful quality to my voice.

 

“M–me…”

 

“Then act like it and stop thinking so badly of yourself, got it?”

 

“But–”

 

I squeezed his jaw again. “ Got it?”

 

He finally relented, his flush worsening. “Yes, ma’am…”

 

“Good!” I chirped. “Now, about that bribe, I c–”

 

I didn't get a chance to finish my sentence, because before I could, he had pressed his lips to mine, his eyes closed tight. Mine widened for a moment and I froze. I had meant to say I couldn't kiss him. It's obviously because I was dating Prosciutto, but he didn't know that, so I would have needed to make up an excuse. But now?

I could feel the scars on his lips with mine and it was an almost addicting sensation. I guess I realized just how much I felt for him– how badly I had wanted to kiss him for so long –once our lips met. I’d be lying if I said I didn't reciprocate the kiss a little– mostly on instinct because I was acting on shock and autopilot, and secondarily because I had been secretly curious what it'd be like to kiss him for a while. 

His strong arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me close and holding me tightly. I got kinda lost in the moment, and I felt my insides tingle and ripple with pleasure when he ran his tongue against my lips and groaned. However, I was still holding back from fully indulging in the kiss, my hands dropped to my lap and my shoulders hunched. I had no idea what to do. As much as my mind could only drift back to Prosciutto, this was enjoyable, and for that, I felt terrible. I had to stop this. I wasn't a cheater, and this was a simple mistake, right?

I closed my lips, not kissing him back at all, and luckily, Risotto noticed and pulled back slightly. His eyes were half-lidded and he was panting softly, hardly a sound coming out. He studied my apprehensive energy before speaking up.

 

“What’s wrong, Amalthea?” he asked in a husky tone.

 

“Risotto, I– I can’t kiss you. That's what I wanted to say before you kissed me. I’m… involved with someone,” I said, guilt beginning to fester in my gut.

 

He raised a brow, hands on my shoulders, but he sat up and created more distance between us. “You’re… involved with someone? Who?”

 

I sighed, looking away as I battled my own nerves. Would he freak out if he found out? After all, Risotto was fiercely protective over Prosciutto and looked at him as a younger brother.

 

“Promise you won’t get mad?” I winced a bit, anticipating his reaction.

 

“Just tell me. I hate beating around the bush.”

 

“Prosciutto and I just recently started dating… I’m sorry.”

 

His eyes widened and he brought his hand to his lips, staring down at the bedspread before his brows suddenly furrowed. “And you let me kiss you? How could you do that to him?” 

 

“ Me? The blame is all on me?!” I replied, my voice louder than I would have liked. “ You kissed me before I could finish speaking and I was shocked. How is this my fault?!”

 

He refused to look at me, his nose crinkling a bit in frustration. “Fine… It was my fault. But you kissed me back, I felt it. I want you to think about why.” 

 

I could feel myself starting to tear up, and they settled on my lower lids. “I already feel like shit, you don't need to rub it in.”

 

He let go of me and went back to sitting normally, going back to his usual grouchy– albeit, still drunken –self. 

 

“You know what you have to do. Do the right thing,” is all he said before ending the conversation. “Now, get out.”

 

I slid back, brows knotted as regret weighed down on me. “Risotto, I’m really sorry! I just didn't want to hurt your feelings, otherwise I would have–”

 

“ Get. Out. ”

 

I hesitated before rushing toward the door, lagging behind long enough to ask him a question.

 

“Are you still coming to the beach?”

 

He refused to look at me, but I could tell he was more sad than angry, even if he growled out his response. “Yeah… I'm not punishing everyone else for our mistake.”

 

I nodded, shutting the door behind me, feeling the tears finally fall. Not only did I hurt my friend by not acting quick enough, but I was a shitty girlfriend. I nearly cheated on my boyfriend and it had only been a little over a week… Or did this actually count as cheating? God, I sucked. What should I do now? How do I get rid of this feeling eating away at me? At the end of the day, it was only kissing, right? But… it was still wrong… Shit, shit, shit…

The longer I let a secret linger, the worse it would be in the long run… I made a bad decision, and I needed to face it.

But not tonight.

Not tonight.

 

*

 

Coincidentally, two days had passed, and I still hadn't decided when I would tell Prosciutto what happened. I had no clue how to start a conversation like that. Every night I tossed and turned for hours, imagining how mad he'd get, how he'd leave me, how he'd never trust me again, how I’d lose a friend over a stupid kiss. 

I was a nervous wreck but I tried to hide it and avoid Prosciutto as much as possible. Since I had plenty to keep me busy, and since we were keeping our relationship a secret, it was easy to do, and he seemed none the wiser. That was, at least, a mild relief.

While I was washing the dishes in the kitchen, going through an apology script in my mind, I felt someone watching me. I glanced out the corner of my eye, to my right, toward a large mirror on the wall that wasn't there yesterday. How strange…

I continued on my business, occasionally wiping my bangs out of my face with the back of my wrist, but I couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching me. 

After I washed about five more cups, I had finally moved onto the plates. I held a ceramic plate, steady scrubbing it, when a sudden sound nearly made me drop it. When I turned toward the source, I jumped at the sight of an ever-smug Illuso staring back at me, leant forward out of the mirror and satisfied with his own antics.

 

“ Ω Χριστέ!” I exclaimed, pressing my wet hand to my chest to calm my own heart. “Illuso, what the hell are you doing?!”

 

“I’m putting more mirrors around the house so I can access my mirror world from any location,” he explained. “I also talked to Marsala and she’s down to go to the beach tomorrow. You can thank me later.”

 

“Tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah, no need to wait right? It'll be too chilly by September. Besides, Marsala can go tomorrow, so I am going tomorrow, even if the rest of you can't. I’m not wasting this opportunity to show off in front of her.”

 

“So full of yourself…” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Fine, then. I guess we can do that. Let the others know. I need to work on the food I’m gonna pack.”

 

“Yeah, I’d help but… hands-on work like that is a job for the help.”

 

I made a face and threw the soapy sponge at him, but he retreated into the mirror quickly enough to avoid it, and it simply smacked against the glass and fell to the floor. He then reemerged with a cocky chuckle.

 

“You ungrateful man. I should make you do it just for that,” I scolded with a huff. 

 

“I’m kidding! God, lighten up, Althaia,” he said, handing me the sponge after picking it up. He then climbed out of the mirror and straightened up his appearance before joining me and putting the clean dishes away. “I do all the housework, cooking, and odd-jobs like repairs at Marsala’s house. I’m as much ‘the help’ as you.” 

 

I smiled a bit. “You really love her, huh?”

 

He glanced around to make sure no one could hear us before responding in the most gentle manner I have yet to see from him. “She's my world. I’m excited to hopefully come out as a couple tomorrow so I can stop sneaking around.”

 

“Really?” I beamed with excitement. “Congrats! I’m so excited for you both.”

 

“Yeah, but try not to act too suspicious, alright?”

 

“Sure. Does she know you plan on spreading the news?”

 

“Yeah. She doesn't care anymore. She’s happy with me, even if she’s stubborn about it. She’s only a little preemptively annoyed at what Melone’s reaction will be.”

 

“ Ah, yeah…” I grimaced. “He’s pretty protective of her, huh?”

 

“Yeah…” He fiddled with the hem of his top, a nervous tic of sorts. “I hope he doesn't try to kill me or something.”

 

“You think he'd really do that?”

 

“I dunno… That guy is weird and a little unpredictable sometimes.”

 

“I agree… But I ultimately think he just wants what’s best for his sister. Just prove to him that you are what's best for her,” I explained, remembering my conversation with Melone on the train.

 

He smiled a bit before nudging me. “When’d you get so good at this stuff, huh? You used to just be the annoying new girl but now you're a real friend. It's nice to see.”

 

I looked up at him, grinning. It was a cold day in Hell when Illuso was nice and down-to-earth with anyone. “Why're you bein’ so nice to me all the sudden?”

 

He shrugged. “I just feel like it. You've been here long enough. You'll earn some of my rare, sought-after graciousness in between the banter.”

 

There he was, going right back to being vain. You had to love it, though. That was classic Illuso. You couldn't change him if you tried.

 

“Right… Well, I like it. Keep it up and I might be nicer to you too,” I teased.

 

He shook his head, laughing while putting dishes away in a cupboard. “You’re too nice for your own good, newbie. Even when you try to be mean, you're just kinda annoying in reality.”

 

I rolled my eyes again before moving on to scrubbing silverware.

 

“Well, that’s a silver-lining, ain’t it?” Formaggio joked, head appearing in the pass-through window above the sink. “Get it? ‘Cause she’s washin’ silverware.”

 

I smirked a bit at his dad joke, but Illuso only griped.

 

“Only an idiot like you would find something like that funny.”

 

“Shut up, you’re just jealous you're not as funny as me,” Formaggio retorted, sitting at the dining table with a yawn and joining the conversation.

 

“No reason to be jealous over something so nonexistent,” Illuso snarked.

 

“Alright, what's been up your ass recently? You’ve been more of a jerk than usual. I mean, even in private. Usually when we’re both in our room, you’re chill but now we keep gettin’ into fights.”

 

“It’s because you keep interrupting my prayer with your incessant nonsense– the annoying singing, endless phone calls, mindless yapping, asking what I’m doing every five seconds. I need to be able to focus.”

 

Illuso prayed? This was news to me… I wondered what he practiced. This also made me realize I had never been in their shared room before.

 

“Hey! Is it so wrong that I just wanna talk to my friend and bond with him? God, you’re so stuck-up.” Formaggio crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“I’m used to it by now but it always gets worse the week or two after you come back from your place– especially the phone calls. Who are you calling, anyway?”

 

“Nunya business. But fine, fine,” he gestured in defeat, “I’ll ease up on bein’ loud or talkin’ to ya while you're prayin’, deal?”

 

Illuso thought for a moment before nodding. “Deal.”

 

Wow… This was the most civil I’ve seen a disagreement between them go. I guess they really were friends at the end of the day. It was kinda sweet, honestly… 

 

“So, what're ya up to, Green?” Formaggio finally addressed me, nodding toward me.

 

“Oh,” I responded, “just finishing these dishes. Then I’m gonna start making food to pack with us for the beach tomorrow.”

 

“We’re goin’ tomorrow? Sweet! I can help with the food if ya want. Unless you were savin’ that job for Prosciutto, ‘course.”

 

“Nah, it's fine,” I dismissed quickly. “You're already here.”

 

“Cool deal. I’m gonna make the best damn sandwiches anyone's ever tasted.”

 

“Or the last ones they’ll ever taste,” Illuso added, ragging on his friend.

 

Formaggio approached him with a grin, putting an arm around him in a playful but rough manner. “ Ah , c’mon, just admit it, you like havin’ my goofy ass around.”

 

“Whatever,” Illuso replied, smiling a bit. He didn't sound annoyed in the slightest, even if he tried to. 

 

Having these two around would distract me from thinking about Prosciutto… A time would come where I couldn't keep hiding the truth from him, though.

 

*

 

After Formaggio and I had prepared the food for tomorrow, I had a certain somebody to tend to. Was it Prosciutto? No. God, I wish I were that brave. 

I had to convince Ghiaccio to take the final step and agree to go to the beach with us. I walked up the stairs and toward the room he and Melone shared. The frame of the door looked scuffed from years of slamming it, and the doorknob itself was loose, no doubt due to Ghiaccio’s temper-tantrums. It was cold to the touch. It felt almost frozen… Hm… I had never really been invited inside before… I wondered what lay ahead.

I knocked on the door, waiting for confirmation that I could come in, and when I heard both Melone and Ghiaccio shout, “Who is it?” I took that as my invitation. I opened the door and only stuck my head in the room at first, wearing a bit of a strained smile, assessing my surroundings. 

One side of the room was decked in different shades of purple. It was neat enough but still looked well lived-in and well loved. On the full size mattress lay a sprawled out Melone in loungewear, head hanging off the side of the bed, looking at me from upside down, and his laptop resting on his stomach. He looked calm and wore a pleasant expression as always.

The other side of the room was more sterile. It was white with some pops of blue here and there. There was a small twin-sized mattress, bed completely made, coverings tucked so tightly there wasn't a wrinkle in sight. One side of the bed was home to a decluttered nightstand, and the other, closest to me, held a large wooden bookcase. There were plenty of books expertly organized by genre and height, and the other shelves were filled with Ghiaccio’s prized collections of gems and stones, and other precious things like small fossils.

On a separate wall there was a desk where Ghiaccio sat with a batch of rocks and a looking glass. He was turned toward me, seemingly a little annoyed that he was being interrupted.

 

“What do you want?” Ghiaccio grumbled, rolling a small pebble between his fingers. 

 

“Be nice, caro, ” Melone cooed, delighted by my visit.

 

“Uh– Ghiaccio! I just came to ask if you planned on going to the beach with us tomorrow,” I said, tapping my fingers nervously on the door.

 

“Tomorrow? Hm… ” He began to think, tapping his chin.

 

“You can come in, dear Althaia. This may take a minute,” Melone encouraged, beckoning me inside.

 

I nodded and stepped in, shutting the door behind me and looking around a little more. Their room was chilly… I had heard that Ghiaccio’s Stand made everything around him super cold. Maybe that was why. I looked around for a place to sit, and Ghiaccio’s bed was empty, but I wouldn't dare to touch such a neat bed… Not unless I wanted to deal with his wrath.

 

Melone noticed me struggling and sat up, scooting to the side and patting the spot next to him. “You can sit here, la mia dea greca. I don't bite… unless you’d like me to, that is,” he teased.

 

“Freak,” Ghiaccio muttered under his breath.

 

I huffed nervously and approached hesitantly. “How, uh– How clean are those sheets, buddy?”

 

Melone laughed out loud before running his hand through his short lilac hair. “Oh, you’re funny, you know that? They’re clean, bellezza. I changed them just today. I consider myself a relatively clean man.”

 

Satisfied with that answer, I nodded and sat down next to him. He wasted no time cuddling up to me, happy to have someone close to him, I suppose. Maybe anyone else would be startled but I was a sucker for affection so I leaned into it, smiling while he rested his head on my shoulder and wrapped his arms around mine.

 

“I’ve had some time to think…” Ghiaccio announced, still sounding a little unsure. “I’ll go, as long as you can live up to your promise to get us a secluded section of beach.”

 

“I need to look into that…” I admitted. “I’ve been… busy.”

 

“ Ah, no need! I took it upon myself to do some research and I’ve come up with the perfect place for our day in the sun,” Melone interjected, showing me his laptop screen.

 

On it was a map of the nearest coast to us, and he had zoomed in on a small patch of beach that was on the other side of some rocks. It looked small and private, just what we needed. 

 

“ Hm… Do we have to climb over the rocks or can we access it another way?” I asked.

 

“If we follow the path leading out of the parking lot and cut through a small patch of brush, we can reach it without crossing any treacherous rocks,” he explained, pointing at the screen and grazing his finger across this secret path.

 

“That sounds good enough for me,” Ghiaccio confirmed, going back to inspecting his rocks.

 

Both Melone and I exclaimed in shock.

 

“Wait, really?!” I asked with a gasp.

 

“I was convinced it’d take you much longer to decide!” Melone added.

 

“Well, I had the last two days to think and the area you chose is exactly what I wanted, so… I'm going,” he explained.

 

“Lookit you! Branching out and taking chances… Proud of ya, Ghia,” I praised.

 

He let out a “ tch,” followed by, “Don’t patronize me. I told you what I needed and you provided. Simple.”

 

I smiled a little. I could tell he was feeling slightly bashful and was trying to focus and ignore it.

 

“Alright, well, I gotta let the others know that we’re going tomorrow. I’ll talk to you two later,” I announced, getting out of Melone’s bed.

 

“Always a pleasure to see you, dear,” Melone said, going back to looking at his laptop.

 

“Yeah. Talk later,” Ghiaccio mumbled, preoccupied.

 

I waved and left the way I came. It was warmer out in the hallway. I wish my room was that cold. 

I began to walk toward my own door, staring at the ground in thought, but I bumped into someone.

 

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” I looked up to see Prosciutto smiling down at me, my heart sinking in my chest. “H–hey…”

 

“ Hola, cariña…” He leaned down and sneakily kissed me on the head. “I’ve hardly gotten any time with you recently.”

 

“Oh, really?” I tried to feign innocence. “I’ve just been so busy recently! I guess time got away from me.”

 

In an instant, his lax demeanor changed to concern. “What is it, Althaia? What's wrong?”

 

How does he do that?! 

 

“N–nothing!” I promised. “Just a little antsy to prepare everyone for the beach tomorrow!”

 

I tried to walk away but he snatched my wrist and stopped me, eyeing me critically and studying even my innermost thoughts. “You’re lying. Tell me what’s wrong or I’ll make you tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Shit… Shit, shit, shit! All the guilt that I had been running from this whole time suddenly caught up with me and I swallowed thickly. If I avoided it now, I’d just be pouring salt on the wound… I needed to be real with him. Maybe if I was honest now, I wouldn't lose him.

 

“Can we… talk? In my room…” I asked in a quiet voice.

 

He nodded. “Of course, of course. I just want you to tell me what’s going on…”

 

We entered my small room and he ushered me toward the bed, sitting down with me. My stomach was a nervous, twisty-turny mess. I hated this…

 

“Prosciutto, I have something to tell you,” I blurted out, ripping the bandage off. “I want you to know before I say anything that I feel extremely sorry for it and it won't happen again.”

 

He raised a brow. “Okay… Out with it then.”

 

“The other night… I was hanging out with Risotto and he was drunk. He kissed me… I didn't stop it in enough time. I–I didn't know what to do! I was in shock! I was being affectionate before the kiss, but I thought it was platonic, y’know? I didn't know that he’d… y’know… But I–”

 

“Did you kiss him back?” Prosciutto only offered me a stern glare and low voice in response. He definitely wasn't very happy but he wasn't exactly mad yet either…

 

Now, I could lie and say I didn't… I could absolve myself of fault entirely and place it all on Risotto. But that isn't honest or fair… It was two-sided, and Prosciutto deserves the truth… I'd probably ruin everything I've worked to build with him, but at least I could show him some respect.

 

I took a deep breath, writing my hands together nervously. Here goes… “A little… I don't know why. It just happened. I didn’t touch him, I didn't go all in, I–”

 

Before I knew it, he had stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I heard rapid footsteps descending the stairs before the front door slammed as well. The hum of his car's motor roared to life before speeding away.

I rushed out into the hallway, tears already stinging my eyes. No, no, no… He isn't gonna forgive me? I know I messed up but it wasn't that bad, right? Was it? I don't know… Two of my best friends hated my guts right now. Maybe it is my fault if I’m the center of the pain.

As I sniffled and wiped at my tears, Pesci emerged from his room. He looked out towards the rest of the house before his eyes landed on me, anxiety etched into his features.

 

“W–what's wrong with Big Bro?” he whispered, clearly shaken by Prosciutto’s abrupt exit as well.

 

“We’re going to the beach tomorrow…” I was all I said to him before retreating to my room again.

 

Me and my stupid ideas…

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿🌿

Chapter 41: Assassin Anecdotes: Losing Grip

Summary:

With the help of a mysterious friend, Marsala frees herself and starts a new life in Passione's IT department...

Notes:

TW: sexual assault, nonconsensual acts performed on a minor (alluded to but not described), verbal and physical abuse, cigarettes, body dysmorphia, crass language/sexually violent threats, ableism, r-slur. Proceed with caution and stay safe my loves <3

Marsala's perspective

Siena, Italia- 1992

 

 

“Come on, hurry,” Mapo urged in a gruff voice, walking several steps in front of me.

“I’m trying,” I replied in a drab tone that I'd come to be known for, straggling behind him.

I was shuffling along the sidewalk as fast as I could, but for every two steps he took, I struggled to take even one. He had no patience for my lagging behind. My patience for his impatience, though, was also wearing thin. 

“If we miss this delivery ‘cause you can't keep up, I’ll be majorly pissed off,” Mapo threatened. 

“I’d be faster if you had let me bring my crutches–” He cut me off.

He turned around to face me, his green eyes venomous in nature. “Yeah, and I told you I didn't wanna be seen ‘round you if you brought along those ugly things. I don't need anyone knowin’ my bitch is a gimp.”

Annoyance rested on my brow, as subtle as it may have been. “I’m not your 'bitch’ .”

He put his hands around my throat, a sneer on his face, eyeing me from behind his short, dark hair. It wasn't enough to really obstruct my breathing but enough for me to know that at any second, he could take my life. 

“You’re my subordinate, you do what I wantcha to, and your body is mine. What do you call that?” 

The stretch of city we were in tonight was empty and quiet, aside from distant polizia sirens. No one would know what happened to me if he killed me right here, and no one would look for me either, save for my twin brother. For now, I had to be compliant.

“Sorry I said anything,” I hissed, my defiance still evident.

He grumbled before shoving me a bit and continuing on our path down a dirty alley. “Yeah, you should be.”

I rubbed my neck, watching him for a moment. One day I would replace him as the head of the IT department. That’s the only reason why I remained as his “girlfriend” , if you wanted to call me that. I didn't consider us a couple. He treated our “relationship” like a contract of my apprenticeship, making our closeness mandatory. I had no choice. It wasn't always bad. For the first few months, he used to love me, even hug me. But once he knew that I knew I was trapped in this thing, he showed his true colors. They were ugly, and so was he, to be honest. I could do a lot better, and I knew it.

I just had to wait a little longer and this nightmare would be over.

I caught up with him best I could, hands in the pockets of my jeans. I was otherwise wearing a burgundy zip-up jacket, leg braces, a gold choker, and a little bit of makeup. My long, wine-red hair was tied up into a low bun, one side of my otherwise bare face obscured by dramatic bangs.

Mapo– clad in baggy, ripped jeans, a stained band t-shirt so faded that it was repping nothing, and a backwards cap –leaned against the alley wall. He lit up a cigarette while he waited. I hated those things; the stench irritated my lungs. He also had a habit of sometimes putting them out on me just for laughs. I had asked him not to smoke around me before, but he just accused me of nagging and called me a ‘pussy’ for not being able to handle it. I’ve stopped trying.

I stood next to him at a distance, covering my nose with my sleeve. I hated this man with every fiber of my being, but I knew that after we got back to his place, I’d have to go through the routine of laying there while he got his rocks off to the worst sex in history. After that, he wouldn't ask what I needed, tell me to take care of myself if I cared that much, then fall asleep. I hated it. I refused to kiss him unless he forced me. I didn't enjoy or want any of it, actually, but he showed me a number of times that he was stronger than me and I was better off just getting it over with.

“ Merda… When’s this asshole gonna get here with those stupid files?” Mapo asked between pursed lips.

I didn't respond, lost in my own thoughts, and he flicked his cigarette toward me to get my attention. I glanced at him with a glum expression.

“What's your deal?” he huffed. “If you wanna look so sad, I can give you somethin’ to be sad about. Put a damn smile on your face.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can’t. You know that. You’ve known that since the day you met me.”

“Yeah, but I think it's really 'cause you don't wanna. You do it to piss me off, don’tcha?” He came closer to me and essentially cornered me, the smoke from the cigarette stinging my nose. He got sick enjoyment out of making me uncomfortable. “Half that shit that’s supposedly ‘wrong with you’ ain't real. You’re just an ice queen. Maybe you’d be a little more expressive if I put my di–”

He was, thankfully, interrupted by the sounds of footsteps in the alley. He turned around and approached the two scary-looking men. I kept my arms crossed over my chest, not moving to meet them. I didn't want to look approachable. I would wait to speak until we left the alleyway.

“These the files?” Mapo accepted a plain briefcase from the jaded men.

“ Mhm. Don’t lose them or you’ll lose a hand, got it?” the taller man warned.

I assumed they were a Capo’s right-hands, considering the task they had been given and the information they were trusted to transport. They’re not people I wanted to mess with, and I hope Mapo realized that too and kept his shittiness to himself. He was an IT guy, not a true mafioso. Maybe he was stronger than me because I was weaker than the average person, but he wasn't stronger than them.

One of the rugged men eyed me, nodding in my direction. “How much an hour you pay for a pretty thing like her?”

Just great…

“Oh, her? She’s all mine and I get it for free,” Mapo replied, a sleazy grin on his face as he pointed a thumb back at me.

I stared at the ground harder, tensing up even further. I was silently praying that was the end of the conversation and they’d leave. They must have noticed my young features compared to Mapo’s very adult ones based on their next question, though.

“How old is she?” he questioned further.

“Fourteen. I like ‘em young and impressionable. Easier to train,” Mapo admitted with a smug aura.

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself and turned my head away.

“Right,” the man said. “Upload the files by this time tomorrow.”

“Gotcha,” Mapo agreed.

The men then took their leave down the alley, and we waited for them to disappear out of sight before we began to walk back toward the shitty apartment Mapo called home. He seemed preoccupied with the briefcase in his hand to bother me much, but I knew that’d only last a short while before he got bored. Sure enough, after about seven minutes, he broke the silence with his stupid voice.

“Well… I can get all this finished before this time tomorrow, so… Looks like we can get a little busy with something else when we get home,” he began, a grimy energy emanating from him.

I sighed, rubbing my arm. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”

He tugged my hair a bit, forcing me to walk alongside him at a speed which hurt me. “I think you forget how this works. I’m gonna do what I want, when I want.”

I grit my teeth, closing one of my eyes–  my best attempt at grimacing. “I’m tired. And I’m pissed. I want to go to bed,” I insisted.

He growled and yanked my hair tighter. “Shut up, bitch. You like it. Stop playin’ hard to get.”

“...Fine.”

There was no point in fighting it.

It happened the same way every time.

*

After Mapo had fallen asleep, I got up from the couch and left him there, limping my way to the bathroom. I felt so dirty when he did this. I felt like it was partially my fault for letting him do it, but I didn't feel like fighting, and I didn't want to deal with his whining, excuses, violence, and anger if I didn't give in.

I stood in front of the mirror. My lipstick was smudged, my hair was a mess, and several unwanted hickeys and bite marks were left on my neck. I felt even worse below the waist. I sighed and splashed water on my face and began rubbing off my makeup and trying to fix my hair. I looked myself in the eyes, staring at my own reflection. One day I hoped that looking in the mirror wouldn't feel like a curse… That I’d like whoever stared back at me.

My attention was pulled toward the counter when I heard my phone chime. It must have been him…

I flipped it open to view the message from who I only knew as LSEI, a hitman I had hired a few months ago in order to kill Mapo. I began responding to him, typing on the keypad of my phone.

LSEI: How are you tonight?

M: He did it again…

LSEI: I’m sorry to hear that… I promise you that his time will be coming soon

M: I'm sorry for dumping all of my troubles on you… It’s just that you feel like the only friend I have…

LSEI: I don't mind being here for you while I can. After I fulfil our contract, though, I have to cut contact. Just a policy, nothing personal

M: I know… I wish you didn't have to go… :(

LSEI: You’re strong. The only thing holding you back is him. Once he’s dead, you’ll realize you don’t need me to get through it. You did all the hard work on your own

M: I’ll miss you…

LSEI: I’ll miss you too, but I’ll give you something to remember me by. How about that?

M: It’ll have to do… Will you deliver the news in person?

LSEI: As much as I’d love to show you how truly beautiful I am, you know I can’t…

M: So vain LOL XD

LSEI: I believe in fate. Maybe we’ll meet again one day, who knows

M: I’ll be waiting, then… Wyd?

LSEI: Laying in bed. It's pretty cramped and it smells musty. This base of ours is pretty run down. You?

M: Cleaning myself up in front of the mirror best I can… I always feel so gross and ugly after what he does to me…

LSEI: Mi Tesoro… You are anything but that. He’s a disgusting, vile monster and none of this is your fault. There's no reason to feel ashamed

M: I wish you were here… I know you’d treat me right…

LSEI: I’d love and protect something so precious, even if it risked my life

M: Sweet-talker…

LSEI: It’s the truth

M: Do you ever regret never finishing school?

LSEI: Sometimes… If I weren’t doing what I was doing, I’d probably go back to school. I mean, I’m only 15 so I could do a lot with a certificate

M: Me too… But we are where we are now… I’d still be doing computer stuff no matter what LOL XD

LSEI: I’d be a model, ‘cause I’m so damn hot XD

M: Haha!! You don’t need a certificate to do that, do you?

LSEI: No, maybe not, but I've got a career lined up for me, even if I hate it :/

M: I believe in you!!

LSEI: And I believe in YOU!! 

M: Hehe flatterer… Damn, I’m tired but I don't want to sleep in this gross bed…

LSEI: Mine’s pretty shit too :/ It’s a little more bearable when I imagine you next to me, though

M: I do the same ^.^

LSEI: Get some rest, darling. I’ll check in on you tomorrow

M: You do the same… Goodnight <3 XOXO (^_^)

LSEI: <3 XOXO X3

I closed my phone and sighed, glancing at myself in the mirror once more. It was a little easier to look at after speaking with him.

*

“Make me some fuckin’ food!” Mapo shouted from the computer, typing masterfully as he inputted data from the files into the computer.

“I told you that I’m tired and in pain . Get it yourself when you get up,” I said, resting on the couch and waiting by the phone for LSEI.

“God, you’re no fuckin’ help. What kinda woman are you, refusin’ to cook?”

I rubbed my temples, closing my eyes. I could get through this. Just a few more days and I’ll never have to deal with him again. When I looked up, I took in just how shitty this rundown place was. Peeling, faded wallpaper, water-damaged ceilings, what could be mold on the baseboards, floors that hadn't been cleaned in ages, and a persistent, low grade foul smell. The lights buzzed and flickered and it was like sandpaper against my brain. I couldn’t wait to get out of here.

“When I’m done with this, I'm gonna head out to the bar. You’re just gonna nag me and slow me down, so stay here,” Mapo instructed, still staring at the computer.

“Fine by me.” I stared ahead, stretching my hands, which seemed to be locking up and cramping. “Which bar?”

“The one on 2nd Street, like usual,” he shrugged before dragging on in an obnoxious tone. “God, you can't remember? Maybe you are retar–”

I tuned him out when my phone pinged, picking it up immediately. It was LSEI. I began typing before I even read what he had messaged me.

M: He’s going to the bar on 2nd tonight…

LSEI: Then tonight seems like the perfect night to do it. How are you?

M: Fine… He’s being the worst, per usual, but it’ll all be over soon…

LSEI: You excited?

M: I am… Though, I won't be excited to lose you… :(

LSEI: You’re stronger than most. You'll be fine without me. But I get it. I AM irresistible, aren't I?

M: Quit making me laugh, I’m trying to be sad LOL

LSEI: I just want to make you smile…

M: I'm doing my best… :)

Despite not being able to smile physically, I felt it in my heart. This wasn't like when Mapo tried to force me to smile. LSEI was going out of his way to give me real reasons to smile…

LSEI: OH SHIT right, I didn't mean it like that! I know you can't, I’m sorry :(

M: It’s fine, don't worry about it!

LSEI: Can I make it up to you?

M: I’m listening…

LSEI: I’ll let you in on a little secret…

M: Yeah?

LSEI: If we could run off and get married, I’d be your husband in a heartbeat

M: Married?! We’re so young! XD

LSEI: I know, I know!! It’s the sentiment of it! I’d give you a better life if I could!

M: You already are… Thank you so much <3

LSEI: Of course, darling… Let me get ready for this mission. I’m freeing you tonight 

M: I love you…

LSEI: Woah wait… Really?? Like, you LOVE ME love me??

M: I think I do…

LSEI: Oh, this is going to hurt so bad once I finish the job… I love you too

M: It’ll hurt, but at least we know we felt something…

LSEI: You’re so smart… A hole will be left in my heart that takes your shape once we part ways

M: And in mine too…

LSEI: This may be goodbye…

M: I know… Don’t make it harder than it needs to be…

LSEI: I won't. We’ll meet again some day. I truly believe that

M: I’d like to believe too…

LSEI: Goodbye, darling <3

M: Goodbye… <3

I wished we had met under different circumstances, that we could stay friends, but I knew it couldn't happen. I wanted to believe I’d find him again one day, but I knew that was probably stupid and unrealistic. 

But sometimes hope is all we have…

I rested my phone on my lap, closing my eyes and trying to slow my heart rate. Was that really it? Is that the last I’d see of my best friend? It was hard to believe such a beautiful thing as coming to an end.

Mapo got up from his computer desk, grabbing his keys and wallet. “I’m goin’ out. Don't miss me too much.”

I took my time to look him in the eyes, nodding and replying in as pleasant of a voice as I could muster. “I won’t.”

He left out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Little did he know, he was a dead man walking.

*

A few hours later, I was cleaning up the best I could from making dinner in our disgusting kitchen when there was a knock on my door. Mapo wouldn't knock, he had keys… Who was this? I snapped my black crutches back into place on my arm braces and hobbled to the door. I, unfortunately, didn't possess a door with a peephole, so I had to open it. I expected to see someone standing before me as I slowly creaked it open, but I didn't. 

It had been raining for a while now, so the littered street was nearly flooded with many puddles, and the pattering was incredibly loud. Something red by my feet caught my eye, though. I looked down to see a heart-shaped box with a note attached to it.

It had a few stray drops of water bleeding into the ink on the page, but the overhang above my door had otherwise kept it decently dry. The note read as:

“ Dear, M

I know we haven't known each other for very long, but I consider you my best friend, and getting rid of this awful man who was stealing your life from you was my pleasure. I’m asking for no payment, this was simply a favor. 

Mapo is dead and no one will find him or trace it back to you. You can rest easy. I sent him to Hell.

I hope that wherever life takes you, the memento I’ve given you in this box will remind you of how much power you hold, and how much I care for you. I’ll be praying that we meet again, but until then, I wish you well.

Enjoy your life as a free woman.

Love,

LSEI”

Wait… he had just knocked on my door? I set the box down, not bothering to look inside, and rushed out the apartment. The quickest way to get back to the main road and catch a ride was to the left and down a small alley. Despite the biting rain and whipping wind, I trudged through the alley as quickly as I could. Mascara was running down my cheeks and my hair was becoming a sopping, stringy mess on my shoulders, but I didn't stop, even if it hurt.

I heard splashing, quick footsteps retreating somewhere around the corner. This was it… If I really wanted to catch him…

I bit my lip and detached my crutches from my arms, running full speed around the corner. The alley led right out into a main road, and I was so focused on looking around that I didn't realize I had stepped into oncoming traffic. A stranger pulled me back onto the curb by my shoulders as a car roared past and almost hit me. I was too preoccupied and frazzled to pay them much mind, much less thank them. The car’s wheels hit a pool of water along the curb, which shot up like a wave and drenched me, but I didn't care about that either. I was breathing heavily, looking around for anyone who stood out to me.

A boy in a trench coat caught my eye. I wasn't able to catch much of his features since he was meters away and in motion. He had hauled a taxicab and ducked into the back seat. Somehow, though, I knew. I just knew. Somewhere in my heart I felt it.

That was him.

And I loved him like I had loved no one else before. And I would keep on loving him.

There was nothing I could do now but return home and inspect the box he had gifted me. I was in so much pain from running, though… I sighed and attached my crutches to my arm again, turning away and limping down the alley that I came from.

It was cold and I was soaked, but I had other things to think about. Mapo was dead. That’s what was important. I was in this thing alone now. I’d much rather be alone than with him, though.

With my shoes flooded and the cuffs of my jeans dripping with rainwater, I finally made it back to Mapo’s apartment and let myself in. I shut the door gently and locked it, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. It was over. I could live in peace now. LSEI had granted me the greatest gift possible: my autonomy.

Speaking of gifts… I looked over to where I placed the heart-shaped box earlier. I wondered what he had left me… I held the box and carefully lifted the lid, revealing its contents. It was a… necklace?

It was a small glass bottle attached to a gold chain. It was gorgeous, of course, but what was inside the bottle? I held it closer to my face, inspecting it. It was filled with crushed particles of something shiny. Most of it was silvery and reflective, but some of it was various shades of red. Whatever it was, it was beautiful, and a nice reminder of LSEI.

I moved my damp hair aside and clasped the necklace around my neck. If I could, I’d be smiling by now. I wanted to, of course, but my body had a different reaction… My eyes felt suddenly warmed, and my vision blurred. Details of the world around me faded for a second before I blinked it away. I reached up and grazed my cheeks with my fingertips, the sensation of fresh, hot tears greeting me. Was I crying? I was as expressionless as always, but I suppose I was feeling a lot of emotions at the moment. 

I sniffled and wiped my tear-stricken eyes with my arm, smearing mascara on my sleeve. This was no time to cry.

This was my first day as Passione’s IT department head, and I had a whole life ahead of me– one that I was pleased to navigate alone.

I, Marsala, would never lose my grip on what was important again.

 

-- Chapter End --

🍷🍷🍷

Notes:

Listen to Losing Grip by Avril Lavigne! This AA provides necessary context for the chapter to come after this so stay tuned. And I will put it out there: I am autistic and have dyscalculia, I don't use the r-slur in my daily vocabulary, but it is a word that has affected me irl. I do not find it funny, I believe it is a harmful and disgusting word, hence why I used it in this chapter. Just wanted that little disclaimer out there lol

Chapter 42: Popsicle (Extra Sticky)

Summary:

It's hard to enjoy a day at the beach when you're in the doghouse, but the shenanigans and support of friends certainly help!

Notes:

Events from Popsicle and Losing Grip continue in this second part.

There's a surprise in this chapter for my friend. You know who you are <3

Althaia's perspective

Livorno, Italia- 2001

 

 

 

Today was the day. It was time for the beach.

In any other situation, I’d be excited! I’d be so excited that everyone else would tell me to pipe down. But today?

I knew I was in for deep shit at some point. It was only a matter of time before Prosciutto and Risotto’s anger towards me came to a head and I really had to face consequences. I hoped it’d be after everyone else got to have a fun day. Until then, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself. My stomach was a nervous wreck, and I was hypervigilant of how much I must be hated right now. 

Formaggio and Pesci had helped me load our belongings into the van’s truck, which included two coolers– one for food and one for drinks –a bag to hold everyone’s things, sunscreen, a disposable bag as requested by Ghiaccio, and umbrellas and lawn chairs. 

Now in the driveway, Formaggio and Pesci attempted to cram everything into the trunk, but every time they tried to close the door, it wouldn't shut.

 

“Damn! There’s too much shit in here!” Formaggio remarked, pushing at the door again. He was clad in an olive green t-shirt and brownish-burgundy swim shorts.

 

“Maybe if we put some of the bags in the backseat?” Pesci suggested, wearing black swim shorts and a tan button-up shirt.

 

“Nah… We can do this Pesc! Just watch this,” Formaggio insisted, backing up several steps and gesturing for Pesci to move.

 

With a confident grin, he ran at the two trunk doors at full speed, intending to shoulder-ram it shut. In actuality, he bounced off of the doors and fell to the ground, letting out a sound of surprise. As he was laying on his back and collecting himself, groaning, Prosciutto opened the trunk, took out a cooler and bag, then shut it no problem.

 

Formaggio sat up, rubbing the back of his head and shooting him a look. “Show-off.”

 

“Not a show-off, just not an idiot,” Prosciutto retorted glumly, putting the bags into the trunk of his own car. He was wearing a short-sleeved, button-up yellow shirt and navy blue swim shorts.

 

“You’re taking your car, Big Bro?” Pesci asked.

 

“Yeah, don’t you usually drive the van?” Formaggio added.

 

“I just… want to take my own car for once,” he returned with a tired, irritated voice.

 

“Can I come with?” Pesci followed behind him like a puppy.

 

He sighed. “Yes… You can come. Just sit in the back.”

 

“Oh, I don’t like sitting in the front seat anyway…” Pesci admitted shyly. “It makes me nervous.”

 

“I know, hermanito. Just get in.”

 

Pesci happily obliged by those orders and they both got into the car, promptly taking off before the rest of us. 

 

“Damn, abandon us, I guess…” Formaggio mumbled before standing up and dusting himself off, recovering swiftly. He quickly found someone new to bother.

 

As Illuso made his way outside, his long hair in a low bun and expensive designer sunglasses, he looked prepared for a day at the beach… And a day impressing his girlfriend. Otherwise, he was dressed in a white, short-sleeve button-up shirt– left open to expose his bare chest underneath –and dark swim shorts. He had his own bag with him, hanging it over his shoulder and staring down at his phone.

He was startled when Formaggio put his arm around his shoulders suddenly, a big, goofy grin on his face. 

 

“Heya, buddy! Lookin’ good!” Formaggio teased.

 

Illuso grumbled, “What’s your deal?” before shaking him off.

 

“I heard Marsala’s comin’. You pumped?” He nudged him.

 

Illuso lowered his sunglasses on his face in an attempt to hide his blush. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Oh, come on , everyone can see it! You like her!”

 

“Can’t you find something else to annoy me about?”

 

“ Hah! Deflection! You do like her! I knew it…”

 

“ Choose another topic. ” 

 

“Fine. You notice Risotto, Althaia, and Prosciutto bein’ weirder than usual these past few days?”

 

“Now that you mention it, yeah…”

 

“Prosciutto even took his own car.”

 

“Really? Huh…” Illuso wore a sly expression before lowering his voice. “You realize what time it is?”

 

Formaggio nodded.

The both of them boasted childish grins and leaned in closer, participating in a practiced handshake before both squealing, “spying time!” They giggled to themselves before two others ventured outside. After that, they stood up straight and attempted to wear stoic expressions, stealing glances at each other and trying not to laugh.

 

“Stop being stupid,” Ghiaccio scolded in passing, donned in a white t-shirt and dark gray swim shorts.

 

“What? We didn't even do anything!” Formaggio shouted defensively.

 

Illuso leaned in and whispered to him. “How does he do that?”

 

“I dunno…”

 

Melone passed by with Ghiaccio, standing beside him. He was wearing reflective sunglasses, an open, dusty purple short-sleeved button up, and dark purple swim shorts, skin-tight just like his typical outfit, though the material was thicker. His medium-length hair was also in a small ponytail. 

 

“Are you guys high or something?” Melone raised a brow at them, a bit of a laugh in his voice.

 

“What?! No! I would never poison my body,” Illuso protested.

 

“Lil’ bit,” Formaggio muttered, making a ‘little’ gesture with pinched fingers.

 

Illuso backhanded him in the chest and Formaggio held his hands up in defeat.

 

“I knew it…” Melone snickered, adjusting the backpack on his back before pulling the sheet off of his red motorcycle. 

 

“What's a beach day without a good toke?” Formaggio said cooly. 

 

“Whatever,” Illuso mumbled.

 

“You’re really taking your bike?” Ghiaccio asked Melone. “Do I have to keep reminding you how dangerous those are?”

 

“Fret not, dear Ghiaccio. I’m an expert driver,” Melone claimed, patting his bike seat. “I’ve not gotten into even one accident since owning her. It’s quite flattering that you worry for me, though.”

 

Ghiaccio crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “I– I’m not– I’m not worried about you! I’m worried about all the other people that have to be on the road with an idiot like you!”

 

Melone smiled and approached him carefully. “It’s okay, you don't have to admit it. I know what's really going on in your mind.”

 

“ Do not. ” Ghiaccio growled.

 

“The day has only just begun, don’t become overwhelmed with anger this soon into our trip,” Melone warned with a calm, sweet voice. “Where are your headphones?”

 

“In your bag…”

 

He nodded and unzipped the large pocket on his backpack, retrieving the headphones and passing them to his friend. “I’ll be okay, and you’ll be okay. Go cool off and calm down in the van, silence the world around you.”

 

Ghiaccio nodded, becoming quiet and putting on his noise-canceling headphones. Although he couldn't hear what the other man was saying, when Melone opened up his arms, Ghiaccio shuffled forward in defeat and allowed himself to be hugged. He didn't reciprocate the affection, but Melone hugged him tightly, not lingering for too long. After the two had parted ways, Ghiaccio retreated to the van and Melone prepared his bike.

 

“Why’re ya takin’ the bike, huh?” Formaggio asked.

 

“Well, you know what they say– the ladies love motorcycles,” Melone claimed with a suave energy about him, running his fingers daintily over the waxed surface of the bike. “I’m sure to look more appealing while riding it.”

 

“You’re tryin’ to pick up chicks?” Formaggio chuckled to himself.

 

“We’re going to be in a secluded section of beach, dumbass. You’re the one who picked it out,” Illuso countered.

 

“Well–” Melone huffed, realizing the flaw in his plans. “S–still, should that change– should I get the opportunity –I’m prepared.”

 

“Alright, off you go, then,” Illuso waved him away.

 

Melone hopped on his bike before revving it and speeding away, down the road and into the city.

At the sound of the motorcycle’s engine, I rushed out of the house. I was wearing a sun hat with a green ribbon, a green, short sleeve collared crop top tied in the front, worn denim shorts with the strings of my swim bottoms peeking over my hips, and white sandals.

 

“Did he already leave?” I sighed, looking out onto the horizon.

 

“Yeah, just missed ‘em, Green,” Formaggio confirmed. 

 

“Shoot… Well, let’s get on our way ourselves,” I announced, marching toward the van.

 

Risotto locked the door behind him as he left the house, wearing nothing but black and white striped swim trunks and sandals. All of his scars were on full display in broad daylight, as well as his hair… If I weren't so sorry, I’d be fawning over him, but he’d wring my damn neck if he caught me staring.

I thought he was gonna drive but he only squeezed into his own small, old car and drove away without saying a word either. 

I knew this was my fault… Prosciutto had already left just to avoid me too. I wore a pout on my face and I think Illuso and Formaggio noticed, sharing a look between themselves.

 

“Well, who’s going to drive now?” Illuso asked.

 

I was determined to make this a good day for everyone as much as I could, even if I had a bad day, so I shaped up in my usual bubbly, go-getter persona and rallied the troops. 

 

“I’ll do it!” I cheered.

 

“Wha–? You?” Illuso sneered.

 

“Ya sure?” Formaggio asked.

 

“Yeah! Get in! I’ve got this!” 

 

They took their seats in the van, Illuso and Formaggio sharing the very back and Ghiaccio sitting in his usual middle seat, minding his own. I sat in the driver’s seat, fiddling with the rearview mirrors and adjusting my seat as much as I could. It was clear this van was meant to be driven by bigger people, and I had a hard time seeing over the steering wheel, but I could probably manage. I pulled out the keys from my bag and stuck them in the ignition, twisting them as the engine came alive. Now, just put it in reverse and back up slowly…

As I did so, straining to see behind me with great effort, I tried to press the gas pedal and my foot hardly reached it. I tried again, stretching my leg as much as I could, and finally made contact. I pressed down– evidently too much –and unaware of how much pressure I was putting on the pedal, we suddenly sped up and the van jerked backwards. I pressed the brakes as soon as I could, causing everyone to jolt again and cry out, but I kept my foot there.

 

“ Heh, no worries! Just gettin’ the hang of it! I’ve got it!” I reassured them, trying again while the van flew backwards then abruptly stopped.

 

I bit my lip and kept my foot on the break, trying my hardest not to move, but I could hear the guys shouting at me. Illuso got out of the van and opened my driver’s side door. He looked fed up with me and his voice made that clear too.

 

“Get your short ass out of the driver’s seat! I’m driving!” he ordered.

 

“O–okay!” I turned the van off and slid out of the seat, giggling a bit at how embarrassed and frightened he seemed.

 

I made my way to the passenger side seat as he adjusted his own seat for his tall stature and shook his head.

 

“Were you tryin’ to kill us, Green?” Formaggio joked, attempting to play off the scare I gave him.

 

“Do you even have a license, idiota?” Ghiaccio screeched, gripping his arm rests so hard it’d leave indents. 

 

“Well, yeah, but I haven't driven in like… five years,” I explained, shrugging.

 

“Oh, you’re a special case, aren't you?” Illuso sighed and pulled out of the driveway smoothly, though I could see him rolling his head eyes despite his sunglasses.

 

“Well, none of us died so it's not that big of a deal!” I slumped down in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest.

 

“We were sure on our way to it, though!” Ghiaccio yelled.

 

Oh, I’d never hear the end of this.

 

*

 

Despite the rough start, we made it to the beach in one piece, parking the van alongside Risotto and Prosciutto’s cars. Melone had made it there just after Prosciutto did, able to cut through traffic quite quickly on his motorcycle, but thanks to me, of course, the van was the last to get there. I noticed the path off to the right of the parking lot. That must be what we cut through to get to the beach. 

Right, well… I’d make this a good day as best as I could!

I hopped out of the van, rushing to the trunk and opening the doors. I began to lift the chairs but Formaggio appeared right beside me, ready to help.

 

“Lemme take care of that, Green. You go ahead and carry the bags,” he said, easily picking up a lawn chair and hanging it off of his arm.

 

“Oh, such a gentleman,” I replied with a giggle, slipping a bag over each shoulder.

 

Illuso stood in the middle of the parking lot, antsy and obviously waiting for his special someone. Formaggio and I noticed this and had a laugh to ourselves before commenting. 

 

“Y’know, if ya wanna seem cool, standin’ out in the parkin’ lot and watchin’ every car like a hawk ain’t helpin’,” Formaggio teased.

 

Illuso stayed put for a moment before relenting and returning to us. “I just thought she'd be here already…”

 

Formaggio patted his back. “Chill out, man. She’ll be here.”

 

Ghiaccio walked past us and towards Melone. It seemed that despite the fights they got into, Melone was going to be his emotional support today. I was glad, to be honest.

With our arrival, Prosciutto and Pesci emerged from their vehicle and unloaded our belongings. Risotto stayed in his car though, seeming more pissed off than usual. This will be a fun day, I promise… That’s what I told myself, anyway.

I took my chances with everyone around and approached Prosciutto, still keeping a respectful distance. With an unassuming smile, I waved and attempted to catch his attention.

 

“Hey! You need any help with the stuff?” I asked.

 

Prosciutto slammed the trunk shut, refusing to even look at me. “We’ve got it.”

 

He walked away with a cooler in hand, a heavy, tense energy following in his wake. Pesci eyes me with concern, a bag in his hand. I stood there with my head hung, looking defeated. 

 

“Are you okay?” Pesci murmured.

 

“I–” The real answer? No. But for everyone else’s sake… “I’ll be fine. It's okay.” I tried to put on a smile.

 

“You don't have to be okay all the time.”

 

That hit me where it hurt. Damn… I knew that if I kept on like this I’d start crying, so I just nodded.

 

“I promise that things will be okay,” I said. “One way or another.”

 

Pesci was about to speak before the sight of another car caught everyone’s attention. It was definitely Marsala’s car. Illuso looked about ready to jump out of his skin… He wasn't smooth at all. 

Marsala emerged from the driver’s side door, absolutely rocking a short, red wraparound dress, a silky red and white patterned pashmina, dark cat eye sunglasses, a pendant necklace, and gold sandals. She was so pretty… Tall, slim, mature looking…

I was a tad afraid to show off my chubbiness in this bathing suit… I was strong, yes, but that came with carrying a little something extra. I’d feel more confident if my boyfriend was supportive of me instead of mad right now…

Illuso barely restrained himself from sprinting when he made his way over to Marsala. I knew he was happy to see her, really… I was glad that they would have a good day at least.

 

“Hey, Mar!” Illuso greeted her once he was close enough. “How are you, darling?”

 

“I’m fine, just need help with my bag and such,” Marsala responded, attaching her crutches to her gold arm braces.

 

“Of course, of course. With me around, you won't have to carry a single thing, my love.”

 

“Cut it with the sappy crap, just get my stuff.”

 

“R–right,” Illuso mumbled. “You know we're supposed to come out as a couple today, right?” He opened the back door in order to retrieve a bag, a chair, and an umbrella.

 

“I know… It’s just… Melone.” She leaned against her car.

 

“Yeah. How do you think he’ll react?” 

 

“Doesn't matter to me, it’ll be your problem.”

 

“What?!”

 

“If he doesn't like it, he’ll take it out on you, not me.”

 

“So, you’re just going to leave me high and dry? You won't even… vouch for me? Reassure him? Not even a sweet word of encouragement before you throw me to the wolves?”

 

“Uh… I… believe in you?”

 

His face dropped and he huffed, stepping closer to her and holding her hand. “You make me crazy, darling.”

 

“I think you were that way before you met me,” she shot back, though she seemed to be joking. She held his hand in turn, not fighting it.

 

He smiled and they were quiet for a moment. He slid his sunglasses up and rested them on his head.

 

“It’s better to see you in all your glory without those things blocking my view,” he praised.

 

She lifted hers up to, revealing her red eyes without a mask covering her features. “You’re not so bad looking yourself.”

 

She unattached her crutches, for what reason I didn't know, but what I did know is that everyone– aside from Risotto –was watching now. 

Illuso watched her attentively, a weaker but better man in front of her. Marsala didn't seem opposed to the affection, though. 

 

“I know what you want right now,” she said.

 

“Do you, now?” He smirked and turned his head curiously. “What would that be?”

 

“This.”

 

Marsala reached up and held his face in her hands, pulling him closer and locking lips with him. It seemed to take a few seconds for Illuso to realize this was really happening, but once he did, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, leaning her down a bit.

Formaggio and I were smiling like idiots, because, of course, we knew. Ghiaccio was completely uninterested, Pesci was surprised but looked away in embarrassment, Prosciutto still seemed bitter about his problem with me, and Melone…

Melone's jaw was on the floor. He looked at the rest of us, then back at the couple, and back and forth while pointing. We began laughing at his reaction, and our laughter prompted Marsala and Illuso to break it up and look in his direction. Marsala was her normal self, arm hanging off of Illuso’s shoulder, while Illuso was grinning ear-to-ear, and if he had a tail, it’d be wagging.

 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he bragged.

 

“Take your hands off of my sister!” Melone demanded, now riled up.

 

Marsala sighed. “Mel, it's fine. I'm a grown woman, I made the choice to date him. I like him, even if he’s annoying.”

 

“Annoying?” Illuso raised a brow.

 

“And full of himself, and clingy–”

 

“What?”

 

“But he’s mine, and I like it that way.”

 

Despite her insults, Illuso smiled. “Aw, you did stand up for me!”

 

“Don't get used to it.”

 

“My own teammate?!” Melone kept on, not yet convinced. “My own teammate and my sister?! How long has this been going on?”

 

“You talkin’ about officially or how long we’ve been dancin’ around this thing for?” Illuso asked, arrogant as ever.

 

“Both.”

 

“Well,” Marsala began, “he started going out of his way to talk to me and spend time with me about a week or so after we first met. Officially, we've been dating for only a few weeks.”

 

“A few weeks?!” 

 

Melone marched toward them. I was afraid he’d be angry, but no… He pushed Illuso away, only concerned with Marsala, a saddened expression on his face. 

 

“ Mia cara sorella, why didn't you tell me? You haven't dated in a long time, not since that scum of the earth hurt you so long ago… This is a big moment; I would have wanted to celebrate it with you.” Melone held her hands in his, being the doting brother he typically was around her.

 

Marsala seemed hesitant at the mention of whoever this mystery man of her past was, but she prevailed. “I–I just didn't want to make a scene about it until I was sure. Aside from that, you get… overprotective of me.”

 

He chuckled. “So what? I only want the best for you. As your older brother–”

 

“By a few minutes.”

 

“–it’s my job to protect you. I haven't always done a great job of that in the past but I won't fail you now.”

 

She was quiet for a moment, her gaze low, but she ultimately nodded. “I understand… Thank you for caring so much, I guess…”

 

“And on that note…” His attention now shifted to Illuso. “I think it goes without saying that should you ever hurt my sister, any comradery between us won't save you from me. Are we clear?”

 

Illuso crossed his arms over his chest. “Calm down. It's not like I’m aiming to mess this up, alright? I worked really hard to gain her trust. Besides, I’m not scared of you.”

 

“I could always change that. Don't make me.”

 

“Enough,” Marsala interjected, flicking Melone’s ear to get his attention. “You made your point… But I appreciate it.”

 

He squeezed her hands again. “Of course.”

 

“Are you guys ready now?!” I shouted from across the parking lot. 

 

They all nodded and Melone returned to us while Illuso and Marsala emptied her things from her car. 

Everyone began to make their trek through the brush and down the path towards the beach. I opted to stay behind just to let Risotto know that he’d have to leave his car now. He was clearly playing music on the radio, so I stepped up to his driver's side window and tapped on it, a beaming grin on my face.

When he realized it was me, his neutral expression dropped into a grouchy one, but he rolled down his window.

 

“Hey,” I started awkwardly, “we’re headed down to the beach now, so just come whenever you’re ready. Just go down the path off to the right. As long as you follow it, you’ll make it there, okay?”

 

He simply nodded.

 

“Can we… y'know, talk?”

 

He began to turn up the music louder, staring daggers into my eyes, expression unchanging.

 

“Well, I just thought since we’re alone, I’d really like to explain someth–”

 

He began to roll up the window and turned the music up louder.

 

“Risotto! Risotto, don't do this!” I knocked on the window, speaking through gritted teeth. “Hey! Listen to me, you dick!”

 

Once the window had closed and he continued to stare at me with nothing to say, I rolled my eyes and stomped away, letting out a loud, frustrated “ Ugh!”

 

Fine, act like a child about it…

I crossed the parking lot and stepped into the woody, shrub-covered route toward the beach. It was dark, but only in a way that green leaves could make it. The trees made it a good place to hide from the sun. It was calm and quiet, aside from the occasional hum of summer bugs… I wish I felt this calm in my mind right now but I was anxious. I should have stayed behind.

There was no turning back now, though. 

The earth crunched and crackled under my sandals, and as the smell of salt and water filled my nose, I knew I could only hesitate for so long. I had to make my entrance, I had to face judgment for my mistakes, I had to show them that I felt sorry…

 

*

 

Our beach set up was coming along nicely. Two chairs enjoyed the shade of an umbrella, while many other towels were laid out. Two coolers sat in the middle of the two chairs, packed with snacks, lunch, wine, water, and more. Off to the side more, Marsala and Illuso had their own arrangement. Well…

Marsala had a luxurious fold up lounge chair and an umbrella staked in the sand, and Illuso was assigned a towel next to her. He’d probably just enjoy being in her presence, though. 

Ghiaccio remained on the shore, still wearing his shirt, with a bag in hand. I assumed he was hunting for cool rocks or sea shells. It looked fun. Pesci stood by the rocky breakwater, using his Stand, Beach Boy, to fish. Kind of a perfect setting for it, huh?

Prosciutto had also kept his shirt on, relaxing on one of the lawn chairs in the shade, minding our things. I knew he was covering his chest for a reason. He didn't want anyone to ask any questions, but I wish he didn't feel the need to hide… 

When Risotto finally walked his grumpy ass to the beach, he parked it in the other lawn chair. Both of my favorite guys, completely unapproachable, upset at me, watching my every move with vitriol together. I liked being the center of attention, but not like this!

 

Formaggio walked past me, holding his phone in the air. “Damn, no signal over here! That sucks…” 

 

He was the first to have taken off his shirt. I could see various light-colored scars littering his torso that I wouldn't have seen otherwise. He had a good weight about him, so he wasn't ripped, per se, but he looked well-built and his arms were obviously strong and toned. He also had tattoos on his shoulders and upper back. On his right shoulder was an Egyptian sphinx with a cat’s face– I assumed it was his own cat. On his left shoulder was a pair of open hands holding a fruit, perhaps an apricot, with a date under it, reading ‘06/11/93’. His upper back was covered in a series of tally marks, scrawled on in a rough, punky manner. The beginning was more faded than the rest. There seemed to be almost thirty tallies. I wondered what they represented. There was also a little tattoo along his collarbone leading to his shoulder, his wife’s name forever carved on his skin in a pretty cursive font.

I’d always wanted a tattoo but I wasn't allowed to have one due to my professions, but now… Hmmm… I was honestly surprised Risotto didn't have any, at least, none that I'd seen.

Melone had already decided to test the fair, clear ocean waters, his bare torso glistening with a mix of sunscreen and droplets of the sea. He whipped his wet hair and ran his fingers through it to get it out of his face, his green eyes made a teal hue by the water. He was certainly fit and lean enough that his muscles showed… I didn't wanna admit that he was pretty, but he was. I was only feeling more and more self conscious as time went on.

Illuso was rubbing a sheer sunscreen onto his toned, flawless upper body… Flawless as to say he had no scars like Risotto or Formaggio, for example, but wait a minute… Many small, faint, uniform scars on his inner wrists caught my eyes. Oh, no… My heart ached for him. I wondered how old they were, if he was okay… What caused such a proud, unbothered man to resort to that? He must have sensed me staring at him, though, because he soon acknowledged me.

 

“Can’t help but get a good look at my perfect form? I’ve heard that happens a lot,” he said, grinning a bit.

 

I walked toward him, taking any excuse to get away from the two ice kings over there.

 

“Uh, no, sorry… Just noticed something is all, it's no biggie,” I explained.

 

“Noticed what?” His demeanor dropped and he became concerned. “I’m the pinnacle of beauty, there can't possibly be a flaw that you noticed.”

 

Oh, this guy … “It’s nothing!”

 

He grabbed me by my shoulders, leaning down to match my height, his tone urgent. “ Tell me. ” 

 

I didn't want to open an old wound, almost literally, but he demanded that I speak… So, I pointed at his wrists. “Those…”

 

He returned to his normal behavior when he realized what I was talking about, letting go of me and openly flashing me his wrists. “Oh, these old things? Did you really think I was always the flawless, well-adjusted, charismatic man standing before you now? Everyone has darkness in their past, y'know… I was once a depressed teenager, it happens. Don't be more sad about it than I am.”

 

That was… honest. I blinked a few times, taking a moment to think over his words. “I–I know, I just… You’re my friend, so when I saw them, I felt bad for–”

 

He held up a finger to his lips, inadvertently shushing me. “There’s nothing for you to feel bad for me about, alright? Right now, I’m more interested in you. Why haven't you taken off your extra clothes yet? You're the one who wanted to go to the beach, after all.”

 

I shrugged, looking down and rubbing my arm… “I–I dunno… I just think all of you guys, especially Marsala, look really good and I just feel… not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not–”

 

He again shushed me. “Respectfully, who cares? It's your body. It's not anyone else’s business, is it? So what if you carry some extra weight? You’re stronger than most of us on the team. You’re healthy, you take care of yourself, you’re not horrible to look at. What more could you ask for? Get over yourself, you're the only one who cares that much about what you look like. Mean that with all the love in the world.”

 

Every time he spoke to me like this, the first thing I felt was irritation, but after analyzing the words, it always made me feel better. I smiled a little, turning my head at him. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, really. Go enjoy yourself,” he encouraged, nodding toward the water.

 

I couldn't help myself, I pulled him into a tight hug. I didn't care if I got sunscreen on me. He stiffened under my touch, hesitant to show me any affection back, but he did very gingerly pat my head.

 

“ Ah, yeah, great… Glad I helped. Now go, I have a lady to tend to,” he said.

 

I looked up at him. “Oh, congrats, by the way!”

 

He smiled softly and patted my head again. “Thanks. Get outta here…”

 

I let him go and approached the shoreline, the sand warm and gritty under my feet, rolling under each step. It really was a beautiful day…

It'd be more beautiful if I didn't have the stares of two Debbie-downer men hanging over me like storm clouds.

Here goes nothing…

I unzipped my denim shorts and slid them down my legs, then untied my crop top, still facing the ocean. What lay underneath was my green bikini set, complete with an off-the-shoulder, leaf-embroidered, frilly halter top and matching bottoms tied at each hip. I looked down at myself, looking at the bit of extra weight I carried on my hips and stomach… What was I talking about before?! I was hot as hell!

I peeked over my shoulder, looking back at Prosciutto and Risotto, smirking a bit. Prosciutto had his mouth discreetly covered, staring at me with a red face but pretended he wasn't once I noticed. Risotto had an equally red face but he was forcing himself to look away, his head turned, though I caught him taking fleeting glances like he couldn't help it.

Hah! Try as they might to stay mad at me, fact was, they couldn't resist me. They'd come to their senses eventually, right?

I picked up my things, sauntering towards them, aiming to put my clothes in my bag. As I approached, the both of them appeared both more nervous and angrier. I passed by Prosciutto and reached for my bag, which sat behind the umbrella and coolers, sticking my things in there. The air was so tense over here, I hated it…

I made my way in front of them, hands on my hips and a bit of a jovial expression on my face, no matter how strained it was.

 

“Y'know”, I said, “eventually, you guys’ll have to get up and do something and talk to people, right?”

 

They just stared at me with irritated looks on their faces, not speaking a word.

 

“And you’ll have to actually speak to me again at some point too.”

 

Prosciutto raised a brow at me, leaning his elbow on the armrest and resting his head on his hand. Risotto refused to look up at me.

 

I took on a defensive stance, appalled at their stubbornness at this point. “Are you serious? Really? We’re gonna act like this? I’m your teammate! You can't get away with never speaking to me.” I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. “Risotto, at least look at me.”

 

“Why? So you can make out with him again?” Prosciutto accused, his spite evident.

 

Risotto’s brows furrowed and he continued to look away, now gripping the armrests till his knuckles turned white.

 

I scoffed and now I was beginning to get angry. “That’s not fair! You barely gave me a chance to explain myself! And why aren't you mad at him, then? It takes two. Why are you just sitting here all silent and civilly with him like he had nothing to do with it?!”

 

“You’ve been leading me on…” Risotto mumbled.

 

“What?!” I screeched. “That’s crazy! I have not! God forbid I show my friend some affection.”

 

“There’s nothing to explain. I’m just angry,” Prosciutto chimed in. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. I don't even know if I want to be with you anymore. Loyalty is extremely important to me and you knew how apprehensive I was about this.”

 

My eyes widened and I lowered my arms, feeling my heart sink along with them. It was almost like a knee-jerk reaction to start tearing up because it happened every time. What did he just say to me?

 

“What? You wanna end this with me?” I whimpered.

 

He let out a strangled sigh and shook his head. “I don't know… I just don’t know. But what I do know is that I don't want to speak with you right now.”

 

I sniffled and shrugged in an exaggerated, dismissive manner, blinking tears out of my eyes and rolling them. “Fine. Fine! Have it your way! It's not like I care or something…”

 

I snatched my clothes from my bag and put them back on, then marched through the sand and back up the path leading into the beach, trying to hide my face with the large brim of my hat. There was a small overhang that looked over the beach off to the side, and that’s where I huddled up and began crying, both not too far from my friends but far enough away for some privacy. 

I hoped everyone else was having fun…

 

*

 

Marsala’s set up was below the overhang and I could see them from my vantage point and hear them decently well. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I didn't really have a choice here.

Marsala was standing in the sand, Illuso staring up at her with eager eyes. 

 

“Do you need help, darling?” he asked, a wily expression on his face.

 

She sighed and reached for the knot on her dress. “No. I know what you’ll do if you get too close.”

 

He slouched in defeat and side-eyed the rest of the beachgoers. “If only we were alone…”

 

“I still wouldn’t let you.”

 

“Fine… But can I come to yours after?”

 

“I suppose. You left some clothes at my house, so you’ll have something to change into.”

 

“You could always shower with me, you know…” He began to rise to his feet.

 

“Stay put.”

 

He sat back down and hung his head like a trained dog. “But–”

 

“I like showering alone.”

 

“Okay…”

 

She tossed her pashmina onto her chair and untied her dress, revealing a red bikini, golden rings as part of the straps and a single golden ring pulling the bust together. Two golden rings also interconnected and held the bottoms together at her hips. She left her sunglasses and necklace on, and she looked… really good. 

Still, though, I could see various scars lining her body. Some looked like paper scars, consistent with having cigarettes put out on skin, and the others took the shape of scratches and teeth marks. I had seen plenty of cases like this during my time working in a hospital. She had been abused by someone, but they looked to be older scars. I’m glad it wasn't recent, then, but it made me wonder about her…

Despite all that, she still looked amazing, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn't a little flustered, but… I couldn't think of anything but how sad and unwanted I was at the moment.

 

Illuso slid his sunglasses off, jaw dropping open and face flushing. “M–Marsala, dear, you look…”

 

“Amazing? I know.” She shook her red hair out, letting it fall over her sunglasses.

 

“Let me worship you like the goddess you are… Can I please get up?”

 

She thought for a moment before holding a hand out. “Come here.”

 

He didn't waste any time kneeling before her and kissing the top of her hand, as if she were royalty. She gave him no real reaction, but I imagined she probably liked it.

 

“Please kiss me, my goddess…” Illuso begged, making puppy-dog eyes at her.

 

She pretended to deliberate for a moment before giving in. “Fine, but only because you asked nicely.”

 

She leaned down and tipped his chin up, kissing him gently with her red-tinted lips. Illuso’s hands gripped the back of her thighs, slowly traveling upward.

 

When Melone saw this, he stopped what he was doing and pointed at them. “Stop groping my sister!”

 

Illuso pulled away very quickly, hands in the air like he was under arrest, seeming cornered and humiliated. “I–I’m not! I’m not! I swear!”

 

“Melone, calm down. It’s fine.” Marsala crossed her arms.

 

“No PDA!” Melone instructed.

 

Formaggio looked up from the beach ball he was blowing up to mess with Melone. “Y’know, for such a hornball, you’re a real cockblock too.”

 

“That’s my sister! I’m just being sensible,” Melone spat back, splashing water on him.

 

Formaggio kicked some water back at him. “Someone’s touchy, huh?”

 

“I’m just… becoming accustomed to it, is all…”

 

“I thought you were tryna prowl for chicks. Why don’tcha try the other side of the beach?” Formaggio suggested. 

 

“Do you really want to send me out there alone after… ‘The Incident’?” 

 

He froze in place, backtracking. “On second thought…”

 

“Would you come with me?”

 

“Uh, I dunno… That’s not really my scene.”

 

“Oh, come on! You’re available and covered in scars and tattoos. With the both of us out there, we’re sure to catch some curious eyes.”

 

“I’m not really lookin’ to date right now…”

 

Melone paused before squinting, looking at his collarbone. “Is that an ex’s name?”

 

“Uh–”

 

“Guys! I caught something!” Pesci yelled, taking the attention off of Formaggio.

 

“Oh, thank God…” he whispered.

 

He, Melone, and Ghiaccio rushed to Pesci’s side, watching him reel in whatever was unfortunate enough to be hooked by Beach Boy. 

 

“I don’t feel a pulse…” Pesci mentioned, still reeling it in despite that.

 

“Maybe it’s playin’ dead…” Formaggio remarked.

 

“Fish don't play dead, dumbass,” Ghiaccio barked.

 

“Says who? Did you ask the fish?”

 

“‘Ask the fish’? Did you seriously say that?! You can’t ‘ask a fish’ anything! They can't speak! They don't understand human language! Don't piss me off…”

 

“It was a joke, geez…”

 

“Well, it didn't make any sense. Jokes should make sense! Comedy is an art, and you are no artist.”

 

“Jokes don’t gotta make sense! They're jokes! I could say somethin’ random right now and somebody would still laugh!”

 

“No, they wouldn't!”

 

“Dick and balls.”

 

Melone giggled in response.

 

“See?!” Formaggio gestured toward him.

 

“That doesn't count!” Ghiaccio asserted. “Melone is a child! He’ll laugh at anything! He has no taste!”

 

“How rude…” Melone held his hand on his chest, feigning offense.

 

“This thing is really fighting me for somethin’ that doesn't have a pulse!” Pesci grunted, taking a step back. 

 

“It's funny ‘cause we all know fish can't talk!” Formaggio continued. “It's an absurdist joke!”

 

Ghiaccio held up a stick. “It’s stupid is what it is!”

 

“Ghiaccio,” Melone interjected, “do we think it's time to take a break and go cool off?”

 

“No!” he snapped. “I’m fine! I need to finish finding shells and rocks. This idiot just pissed me off.”

 

“It was an innocent joke…” Formaggio said in a droning tone, rubbing his face.

 

Pesci, with one final tug, finally brought his first catch onto the shore, and everyone’s surprise quickly turned into disappointment. What lay before them in the sand was not a fish, but a large, fraying tire. Pesci’s shoulders slumped and he whined.

 

“Aw, man… It’s just a tire…”

 

“Damn, better luck next time, bud.” Formaggio patted his back. 

 

“What do we do with it now?” Melone asked.

 

The air around them became frigid increasingly quickly, nipping at their bare torsos and causing them to shiver. The three men turned around to stare at Ghiaccio with fear in their eyes, backing away slowly while they still could. Around the blue-haired man, icy winds swirled about, a manifestation of his Stand ability. He was silently seething, gritting his teeth, a ticking time bomb that was closer and closer to exploding. Despite this, though, when he spoke, his voice was a deadly kind of calm that hid fire behind it.

 

“You know… A lot of Italian citizens will deny that our surrounding ocean is polluted. Sampling for ocean debris isn't standard practice. Why would it be? We only became aware of it in the 90s. One of the only large scale studies was done in the North Pacific Gyre just this year, which found three-hundred-thirty-four-thousand plastic items per square mile of water just in that region. Can you imagine what the numbers might be like all over the world? Sure, it's next to the Californian coast. We can blame it on the plastic-loving Americans, right? And Japan’s focus on hygiene has caused an uptick in single-use plastics. They’re currently one of the world’s leading consumers of plastic per capita.” He chuckled and shook his head. “But it wouldn't happen to our beautiful Italian beaches, right? We’re sensible Europeans, we’re better than those hyper-consumerist Americans, aren’t we?”

 

The three men blinked a few times, various expressions of apprehension and confusion on their faces. Pesci was the only one who was naive enough to respond, though…

 

“Um… Yes?”

 

Ghiaccio began to be covered in ice, large, freezing spikes growing from his back and shoulders. His chest was heaving with heavy, ragged breaths. This was it…

 

“Then why is there a stupido pneumatico del cazzo on the damn beach?!” he roared, straining his vocal cords. “If we're so clean, then why do I see trash on beaches all the damn time?! These stupid figli di puttana litter on their 'nice vacations’ and soulless mega-corporations illegally dump their waste in our waters! Dannazione, dannazione, dannazione! That’s how we end up with garbage like this on beaches, in the ocean, in the stomachs of animals, poisoning our rainwater and soil! Tutto questo è così frustrante! How can I enjoy the beach when there is so much pollution in it?! Che schifo! Any pezzo di merda who litters will die by my hands, I swear it!”

 

He began kicking at the tire and stomping on it, fists clenched and freezing the sand beneath his feet. He muttered various curses and vulgarities between his clenched teeth as he did so, taking his anger out on this random piece of trash. Classic Ghiaccio… Although, I did love how passionate he was about our wonderful planet, even if it was a violent passion. 

The other three men backed away slowly and left him to abuse the tire to his heart’s content while they got into the food. At least it wasn't them that he was attacking.

 

*

 

Marsala, now with her crutches, stood at the shore of the beach and looked out onto the horizon, hair flowing in the light breeze. She looked at peace. Her solitary peace was interrupted when Illuso appeared by her side, though, holding a plate of food and a glass of wine that matched her visage. 

 

“Your lunch, my love,” he said, handing her the glass of wine.

 

She leaned on one crutch and lifted the other hand to hold the glass, nodding to him.

 

“Do you want to sit and eat?” he asked.

 

“No, that's okay… I’ll eat in a moment,” she replied. 

 

He nodded and walked over to her chair, setting the plate on it, then returned to her.

 

“How are you feeling, being out with us?” Illuso placed a hand on her back, gently rubbing it.

 

“It’s… oddly nice, though I haven't interacted much with the others. I don’t really have opportunities to do things like this often. It would have been nicer if Ghiaccio didn’t have a meltdown.”

 

“ Ah, yeah… That’s just part of his charm, I suppose… He wouldn't be Ghiaccio without his longwinded rants.”

 

“I know… I actually found it educational.”

 

“You’re a lot more friendly than you want to admit.”

 

“I’m not ‘friendly’, I’m… standoffish, off-putting, boring, and I often push people away or offend them because I can't communicate how I feel without sounding rude.”

 

He smiled and shook his head, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Maybe those in the past have made you feel like that’s true, but it isn’t. You’re witty, intelligent, mature, resourceful, resilient, and more open than you give yourself credit for.”

 

She slipped her sunglasses off, meeting his red eyes with her own, and leaned her head back onto his shoulder. “I guess you’re less annoying than I’ve let on…”

 

“Really?”

 

“You have your moments, but… you’re sweet and you mean well.”

 

“I do…”

 

“I’d kiss you right now if I could.”

 

“Just the notion is flattering enough…” He then began poking at her stomach and arms– essentially anywhere he could reach –with an impish grin.

 

She huffed and put her sunglasses back on, swatting at him. “Stop it, you idiota. ”

 

He chuckled a little and continued anyway. “I’m poking you.”

 

“I know. Quit it.”

 

He let out a little giggle and poked her cheeks. “But you’re so cute when you make that little face of yours.”

 

“Illuso, I swear–”

 

“Swear what?” He then pinched her ass gently.

 

She turned around and whacked his shin with her crutch as he attempted to escape her.

 

“ Aha! That hurt!” he exclaimed, though it was more of a joke.

 

“Go. You’re in time-out. Get out of here,” she demanded.

 

Satisfied with the result of his pestering, he retreated as told, saying, “ Okay!” in a singsong voice.

 

Illuso retrieved a pocket mirror from his swim shorts and opened it, walking past the chairs where Risotto and Prosciutto sat. He discreetly tossed it into the sand, leaving it there as the first step in a plan to spy on them. He continued on his path until he found Formaggio, still attempting to blow up that same beach ball.

 

“Hey,” Illuso greeted him.

 

Formaggio closed the opening of the beach ball between his fingers before responding. “Oh, hey man. Didya do it yet?”

 

“I’m all set.”

 

“Nice! You’re our best bet for now.”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I’m blowin’ up this beach ball. I’ve almost got it.”

 

Illuso pointed to the deflated toy. “Do you?”

 

Formaggio looked down at it. “Aw, damn it! Why isn’t this workin’?”

 

“Is this the same one that Little Feet was messing around with?”

 

“Yeah, but I patched it. This is the only one I had.”

 

Illuso inspected the ball, looking for said patch, but there wasn’t one in sight. “I think it fell off.”

 

“What?!” Formaggio hastily turned the thing over and realized he was right. “Oh, come on!”

 

“How long have you been trying to blow this thing up?”

 

“For like an hour, man!”

 

Illuso began to laugh, covering his mouth a bit. “Wow, you’re real smart…”

 

“Hey! Shut it! I didn't know!” Formaggio hit him with the pathetic, deflated beach ball. “Don't be a dick!”

 

Illuso gestured in defeat. “I’m not, I’m not! Sorry…”

 

Formaggio shrugged and laughed as well, slinging it over his shoulder. “Oh, well, it can't be helped.” He then looked over at Marsala, who was still sipping wine by the shore. He nudged Illuso with his elbow. “ Heh, ya dirty dog. I knew it. You’ve had a thing for her ever since she busted your balls for tryin’ to snoop on Althaia, huh?”

 

Illuso rubbed the back of his neck, though his eyes seemed distant and something lingered on his tongue before he decided against it. “Something like that… At first I hated her, or at least, I thought I did, but… I think I've always liked her deep down. By the second time we met, I started to fall for her right there.”

 

Formaggio patted his shoulder. “That’s nice… Makes me miss my wife real bad.”

 

Illuso’s eyes widened and he slowly turned his head to stare at him. “Pardon?”

 

When Formaggio realized he had let it slip again, he tried to take it back. “ Ah! No, no, that’s not what I meant! I meant– Well, I kinda just said somethin’, it don't mean anything! I’m lyin’, I’m lyin’ to ya. I’m stupid, don't listen to me, I’m just jokin’, y’know?” 

 

Illuso guffawed and practically almost told the whole world. “Oh, my God! You’re ma–”

 

Formaggio tackled him, covering his mouth. “ Shhhh! Shut up! Shut up! Don't make me knock ya out.”

 

Illuso struggled against him, prying his hand from his mouth. “Get your dirty hands off my face!”

 

“They're not dirty, I just rinsed them with water!”

 

“Whatever! Stop touchin’ the moneymaker!”

 

They continued to wrestle with each other, Formaggio being stronger despite his shorter height.

 

“I’ll kill you, get offa me!” Illuso growled, attempting to push him away.

 

Formaggio held strong, arms wrapped around him. “I’ll kill you!”

 

The two continued, barely fighting and lazily scrapping until Formaggio had pulled Illuso down to where his back was touching his chest. Formaggio had surpassed his teammate, his arm around his neck in a headlock, and Illuso’s own hands gripping his forearm. The two stayed like that for a moment, lightly panting. There was no pressure on the chokehold, so it was more like a strange hug than anything.

Eventually, Illuso leaned his head back, resting the back of it on Formaggio’s shoulder. 

 

“Are we done yet? I’m gettin’ too old for this shit…” Formaggio asked, looking down at him.

 

“Yeah.” Illuso nodded a bit, closing his eyes. “I’ve got questions anyway.”

 

Before Formaggio let Illuso go, he sort of wrapped his other arm around the man, changing it into an actual hug, albeit, an uncomfortably angled one. Illuso relaxed into him a little more and patted his forearm roughly. I guess they really were best friends at the end of the day.

After Formaggio finally set Illuso free, he punched him on the shoulder suddenly, keeping his gaze low, as if he was bashful about the whole exchange. Illuso did the same, avoiding eye contact. They were silent until Formaggio spoke up again.

 

“So…”

 

“You said you had a wife. You’re married?” Illuso began.

 

“Yeah, I am…”

 

He grabbed the man by his shoulders and shook him as he spoke. “Why didn't you say anything?! This is huge!”

 

“'Cause…” Formaggio sighed sheepishly. “‘Cause I didn't wanna rope her into this life of mine…”

 

Illuso stopped shaking him. “Who else knows?”

 

“Althaia… But I only told her on accident too.”

 

“So, is that who you’re always calling?” 

 

“Yeah…”

 

He gestured to the tattooed name on his collarbone. “That her name?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“How long you been married for?”

 

“Five years… But we've been officially together for seven and we’re sorta high school sweethearts but… also not at the same time.”

 

“Seven years and you’ve been letting us make fun of you for never getting any dates this whole time?”

 

Formaggio shrugged. “I’m the joke of the group. That's what I’ll always be, married or not…”

 

Illuso frowned a bit. “You know we all like you, right?”

 

“Sometimes…”

 

“Come on, you’re family. We’re all like family.” Illuso nudged him with his elbow. “When are you going to bring Alex around to meet us, huh?”

 

“Soon… I’ve talked to Risotto about it. She needs some training for a personal thing… We need to teach her how to kill.”

 

“Really, now? Does she have a Stand?”

 

“Yeah, a badass one too.”

 

“If you ever have a kid, I better be the godfather.”

 

“Do Taoists even do the godparent thing?”

 

“No. But it's a common Chinese folk tradition.”

 

“What’d they call ya?”

 

“干爹,” he said. 

 

“ ‘Gaan-diey’?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“I don’t think you’re ever gonna get to be a… what you said,” Formaggio clarified glumly. 

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Not something I can divulge a lot of, but let's just say I ain't seen any action in a few years.”

 

“ Few years?!” Illuso quieted down again after Formaggio swatted at him. “Damn, are you that bad in bed?”

 

“Nah, nah, nothin’ like that… She’s just… got a lotta personal stuff to work through.”

 

“That sucks…” He shook his head. “Still can't believe you’re married.”

 

“I’m a lucky man. She’s my ride or die.”

 

“Looks like we both found our ladies, huh?” Illuso put an arm around Formaggio.

 

“Looks like it…” Formaggio smiled a bit.

 

“Now to get all these loners one of their own.” He gestured to the rest of the team.

 

“Speaking of…”

 

“It’s time.”

 

They both grinned like madmen and partook in the same unique handshake again, squealing once more about spying.

 

Illuso retrieved another pocket mirror from his swim shorts and set it on a nearby rock. “I’ll enter the mirror world from here , and listen over there.”

 

“And I’ll be on the lookout,” Formaggio confirmed.

 

“Right.” Illuso nodded to his companion. “See you on the other side.”

 

Formaggio did a mock salute, and with that, Illuso ventured into the land of mirrors. 

 

*

 

I was sitting on the overlook still, and I had been crying on and off for the past two hours. This sucked… All I wanted to do was enjoy a day with my friends but now I was being punished for something that wasn't even really my fault… And to lose Prosciutto over it while Risotto gets off unscathed? That wasn’t fair!

I wiped my mascara-stained cheeks and sniffled, hugging my knees to my chest. I closed my eyes, trying to calm down, but I felt a presence next to me without warning. I looked up to see Marsala sitting down, crutches laying by her side.

 

“Marsala?” I asked, wiping my eyes again.

 

“You’ve been up here almost all day. It was your idea to come here, right? Why are you crying?” She cut right to the chase, skipping any pleasantries.

 

“It… It’s hard to talk about. I’ll be fine…”

 

“Look, I know I seem completely stone-cold, but I actually do have feelings and I can talk to other people about theirs. Don't make me regret spending my time coming up here. Talk to me.”

 

She was blunt… I kind of liked it, though. I knew she’d be real with me.

 

“Well…” I began. “The other day, Risotto and I were hanging out. He was drunk, I wasn't. He was feeling shitty so I was comforting him and being affectionate. I’m a pretty affectionate person, so that’s normal for me.”

 

“Right.”

 

“And then he kissed me.”

 

“What? Really?”

 

“Yeah. And I was so shocked I didn't react right away… And I had– or have, I don't really know –a little crush on him so I guess I kissed him back but barely! It lasted for like, a few seconds, but I stopped it as soon as I could focus again!”

 

“What's the harm in two adults kissing each other?”

 

“The harm is that I’m dating Prosciutto. We’re intimate, we say we love each other, it's a whole thing. And I told Risotto that! And he and Prosciutto are super-duper close, so he was mad! And I can't be sure but I think Risotto is in love with me and I can't return that attention. Now Risotto won't talk to me.”

 

“Oh, merda … That’s complicated…”

 

“But it gets worse!”

 

“How could it?”

 

“It could! Two days later, I told Prosciutto ‘cause I didn't wanna keep avoiding him. I was honest, I was to the point, I wanted to explain– but when he found out I kissed Risotto back a little, he got all mad and stormed outta the house. He’s been ignoring me since then!”

 

“Really? Prosciutto? I wouldn't expect that from him…”

 

“Me neither, but it's new, so I guess I should have been prepared for anything…”

 

“Did you guys get into an argument earlier?”

 

“ Ugh, yes! I told them they’ll have to talk to me eventually and stuff, and Prosciutto basically told me to go away and said he might leave me…” I teared up again and hugged my legs. “But I never wanted that… Now they’re like… teaming up and angry at me together… They’re my best friends. It hurts a lot for them to be so mad at me. I don’t want to lose either of them… But I probably will.”

 

Marsala was silent for a moment while I sobbed, and she raised her hand a little, hovering over my back before finally resting her hand there in a supportive manner. I appreciated the effort.

 

“That sounds really stressful… Relationships are extremely stressful and bothersome…” she said. “How they're treating you isn't fair. They're putting the blame on you when most of it isn’t.”

 

I looked over at her. “Really?”

 

“Yes. You were kissed and your body responded naturally to that. You did the right thing and stopped it, and you were honest. How are you the bad guy in the matter?”

 

“Yeah… You’re right.”

 

“It seems to me that their loyalty to each other is clouding their better judgement. They've been on this team together for the past ten years. You got pulled in the middle of a really strong bond that you weren't even prepared for.”

 

“So… What do I do?”

 

Marsala looked at me, taking her sunglasses off and letting them sit atop her head. “You get up, dust yourself off, wipe your eyes, and go have fun. Stop crying over these idiotic men. That’s what you do.”

 

I was a tad shocked by her statement… This wasn't what I expected. “Are you serious?”

 

“Dead serious. You don’t owe them anything. If they want to act childish and refuse to talk to you like an adult, ignore them too. They'll come to their senses. You organized this beach day. Go enjoy it. You have other friends here that you’ve been too busy crying to spend time with.”

 

“How do I have fun when they’re so mad at me?”

 

“Tell them off. Tell them that their emotions don’t run your life, and until they have a real answer for you, you’re going to live yours while they sulk. You weren't put on this earth to please them. You were put on this earth to do what you want to do. Don't ever stop living just for a man. You don't need a man, you never will. Having a man comes as a treat for putting yourself first and having your priorities straight.”

 

This was… news to me. She was… she was totally awesome. She really was independent. This was unlike anything my mother ever taught me.

 

“Yeah… You’re right. I was doing just fine without one!”

 

“You were, Amalthea.” I swear I could see a twinkle of a smile in her eyes. “You’re intelligent, strong, accomplished, and an overachiever. You didn't need a man for any of that, and you don't need one now. Don't forget that.”

 

I smiled and nodded, the tears finally stopping for good. “I won’t.”

 

I stood up and reached out to Marsala. She took my hands and I helped her to her feet. She was taller than me and looked calm, even while I was a mess. She attached her crutches to her bracers again, then picked up the cup of water and the napkin she brought with her. Marsala wetted the napkin and began cleaning up the mascara on my face, wiping it off to restore some of my dignity. She was really caring… way more than I thought she’d be. I liked my new friend.

 

“You know what I do with men who get in my way?” she asked.

 

“What?”

 

“I order a hit on them. I’ve done it before and I’d do it again.”

 

I was too shocked to respond.

 

“You are your first priority, always. All that martyr stuff is bullshit. Go down there and tell them that their attitudes won't ruin your day.”

 

“I will…” I nodded. “I just need a moment to breathe.”

 

“I understand.”

 

We stood there in silence, just listening to the waves crash against the sand and the distant conversations of our team… The buzzing of insects, the call of birds, the smell of salt and grass… It was nice. There were no words needed, just her presence was enough.

 

*

 

This was it. It was time. Now or never.

I walked across the beach with purpose, a determined expression on my face, my hat in my hand. I didn't need anything obscuring how serious I was. I stood in front of Prosciutto and Risotto, startling them.

 

“Hey!” I shouted, making sure they were paying attention.

 

They didn’t respond.

 

“You wanna play the quiet game? That’s fine. Guess what? I don't care anymore! If you can’t be adults and we can’t talk about this like adults, then I don't need to be with either of you. I have tried to make this right, I have let you two ruin my day and blame me for what wasn't my fault, I have wasted enough time waiting for maturity.”

 

They seemed surprised at my sudden change in mindset, caught off guard by my strong words. Good.

 

“Prosciutto, be mad at me all you want to, but your bestie over there is as much to blame, if not more, than me. And Risotto … You will never get to make me feel bad for showing my friend that he’s loved and cherished. You will never make me feel like a tease for being myself. I won’t let you. Take it or leave it, this is who I am. What you feel for me isn't my fault or responsibility. Deal with it.”

 

I then pointed at Prosciutto.

 

“And you. I love you. I do know you value loyalty. I know you were worried about our relationship making you weak. It hasn't. You’re still the same stern bastard you always were. I don’t deserve to wait, though. You either want to keep going with me, or you don’t. I’ll give you til tomorrow. You can't keep me in the doghouse forever. I want to keep going with you. I’d be really happy if you gave me another chance. I didn't need a man before this to make me happy, I wasn't a relationship person, and I won’t stop having fun and being myself just because I am or am not with you. I’ll respect your choice as long as you make it.”

 

I began to take off my bathing suit coverings again, untying my top and unbuttoning my shorts. “And if you think this is harsh, Marsala said she’d hire someone to kill you both if she were me, so…”

 

“What...?” Prosciutto mumbled, squinting in confusion at the logistics of that.

 

I tossed my clothes at him, to which he flinched, and showed off my bikini once more. 

 

“Toodles!” I said in a sarcastically cheery voice, holding up a peace sign before leaving them in the dust.

 

Illuso had successfully been spying on Prosciutto and Risotto the whole time, and unbeknownst to all of us, had heard the whole thing. He had been listening intently, collecting intel on a situation he had very little prior context to. His mind was racing with questions but he focused again when a new conversation emerged.

 

“What would you do if you were me?” Prosciutto asked Risotto, staring ahead.

 

“I don’t think you want the answer to that…” Risotto replied, his voice tired.

 

“Yes, I do. I look up to you, I always have. The worst you can say is that you’re in love with her.”

 

Risotto stayed silent, but his answer was obvious. Prosciutto nodded and sighed.

 

“You are, aren't you?”

 

“Maybe I am…” Risotto didn't open up more than he had to, guilt weighing him down.

 

“So am I. What would you do if you were me, then?”

 

“I… I dunno… I’d be angry.”

 

“I am.”

 

“I’d want to continue loving her… But I would push her away and hide in my office because my feelings were hurt. I would resent her, I would start arguments over nothing…”

 

“Would you ever forgive her?”

 

“I’d like to believe so but I’m a jerk, so probably not… I’d hold a grudge just for the hell of it.”

 

“Is that what I should do?”

 

Risotto glanced at him, a bit of a facetious grin on his face. “Do you still idolize me after all this time, Caruso? Do you really want to be like me? I’m a terrible person. I kissed my friend while I was drunk and probably ruined her relationship. And then I had the audacity to blame her because I was embarrassed, even though it was my fault. And what's worse, even if she was my girl and this happened, I’m not mature or mentally stable enough to handle it like an adult. I’d take it out on her, even though she’s all I wanted. Is that who you want to be? You should know better by now.”

 

Prosciutto thought for a moment. “She kissed you back. She cheated on me.”

 

Risotto sighed, shaking his head and leaning forward on his knees. “Not really… She did what anybody would do if their immediate reaction wasn't disgust. She didn't even touch me. She stopped it and immediately mentioned you. She’s not a cheater… It is my fault. I shouldn't have kissed her… She was just trying to be nice to me and I’m the rotten old bastard who ruined that.”

 

He seemed conflicted, his walls lowering slowly but surely. “Do you think she holds any feelings for you?”

 

“Weren't you listening? Even if she did, it doesn't matter. She wants you. She basically told me to go fuck myself, and I deserve it.”

 

“I guess that's true…”

 

He turned to face him. “Listen to me, Caruso– I’m sorry. I am. I had no idea you two were dating, and if I had known, I wouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have no matter what, but I can't undo it. I won't get in the way of your relationship ever again. I want the best for you both, even if it hurts to see her be with someone else. But I’m a grown man, I’ll get over it. And so are you. This doesn't have to ruin us either.”

 

Prosciutto was silent for a moment, looking down at my clothes in his lap before looking up at his friend. “I appreciate the apology, really… I forgive you. I already had. I suppose I’m biased… It’d take Hell and high water to challenge my loyalty to you. I owe you my life a hundred times over. I don't worry about much ever coming between us.”

 

Risotto signed a breath of relief that he didn't know he had been holding. “That’s good to hear, kid. It really is…”

 

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Prosciutto joked.

 

“No, you’re not… You’re a grown man with a relationship and you’ve got a decision to make. It's not one I can make for you, either.”

 

He fell silent, lost in thought and watching me from afar. It took a minute, but he spoke up again. “It’s all so uncertain… No sé …”

 

“If it helps… If she hurts you, and I mean really hurts you– something serious, something life changing, something terrible and out of character… I’ll kill her. No one gets to hurt you. It's been that way since the day we met.”

 

Prosciutto finally smiled softly, his eyes still locked on me. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary…”

 

Risotto smiled and nodded, leaning back and closing his eyes.

Prosciutto stood up and left my clothes in the chair, approaching me with his tail between his legs. I had been in the middle of leaving my footprints in the wet sand and running back before the wave could get me when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned around to see Prosciutto, head hung low and blue eyes wide, looking at me as if he knew he was in deep shit. 

 

“Well, looky what we have here,” I teased, arms crossed over my chest. I knew I’d won.

 

“I’m really sorry… I wasn't being fair to you. Risotto explained everything since I hadn't given you a chance to. I feel awful,” he said in a genuinely apologetic voice that made my heart melt. “I've hurt your feelings and tarnished your trust in me that we can have mature conversations. I’m new to this whole ‘relationship thing’ too… It’s not an excuse, though. You deserve better and I deserve whatever harsh words you have for me. I've come to a decision, though, if you're ready to hear it. I understand if you decide against it anyway.”

 

Damn… I really did a number on him, huh? Thank you, Marsala, for kicking my ass into gear. I’d be sure to tell her how far her advice got me later.

 

“You did hurt my feelings. I was upset all day. I didn't want it to get this bad but it has, so here we are. I won't lie, I expected better from you. You’re mature but you ran away with half the story because you wanted to be angry with me,” I responded.

 

“I–I know… And trust me when I say that I regret it and plan to try to make it right… I expected better from myself too. Just goes to show that I’m not the ‘perfect husband’ you thought I was, huh?” I knew he was trying to make a joke at his expense to lighten the mood, but it just made me feel sorry for him. 

 

“ ‘No one is perfect… Not me, not you, not the rest of the team, not even God.’” I repeated back to him, stepping closer to him and wearing a coy smile.

 

He immediately caught on. “ ‘No, you’re perfect…’”

 

“ ‘Far from it.’”

 

“ ‘To me.’”

 

“You remembered?” I kept my hands behind my back, warming up to him slowly.

 

“ Claro que sí… It was a big moment for us. I was a little surprised you remembered too.”

 

“‘Course I did.”

 

He lowered his head again, a worried energy about him. “I wanted to tell you that I’d be honored if you continued to call me your boyfriend.” In the split second it took me to form a response, he already began to spin out and doubt himself. “And I know you said you wanted that too, but if you decided you actually want a break from me, I’d get it. I was terrible to you. Even if you left me, I’d deserve it. I really do want to make it up to you. I love every moment I spend with you. I’m sorry I ruined your special day with us too. God, I suck… Lo siento . Quiero ser tu novio, por favor… Te amo, cariña.” 

 

Though my accent was a little off, I replied to him while finally revealing my hands to him again. “ Yo también te amo, mi novio…”

 

His eyes widened and he held my hands as quickly as possible. “You understood me?! And you spoke back to me?!” 

 

I shrugged, smiling a little. “I’ve studied a little for you… ‘Cause I like you. A lot.”

 

He raised my hands to his lips and kissed them, meeting my gaze the whole time. “And I like you . A lot.”

 

We both chuckled softly at the exchange before I spoke again. “I like your decision. I think I’ll continue to call you my boyfriend.”

 

He excitedly pulled me into a hug before I could register anything, but once I did, I buried my face in his neck and hugged him back. 

 

“Thank you, Althaia…” he whispered.

 

“ Mhm… Of course.”

 

We pulled away from each other to see everyone staring at us, including Illuso… I wondered where he had been. 

 

“Wanna do this thing?” I asked, shrugging with my arms draped over his shoulders.

 

“Might as well,” he agreed, hands on my waist. 

 

Our lips met and suddenly, all of our frustrations melted away. Even the jeering and shouts of disbelief from our teammates faded away into background noise eventually. It was just him and I. This felt right. Nobody does it like he does. 

We continued holding our kiss as the waves crashed, my hands cupping his face and his arms wrapped around my hips, holding me close. It was sweet… This is what I wanted. 

When we broke away and looked at our friends, watching their reactions, they were varied but excited and energetic nonetheless, save for Risotto. 

This would certainly change things in the house…

 

*

 

As the sun began to set and dinner began to sound more and more appetizing to us all, we decided to pack up our things and make our way home. Before we had, I actually got to have some fun swimming, helping Ghiaccio find cool stuff, catching up with Formaggio and gushing over his cat tattoo, and climbing the rocks with Illuso and Melone to see the other side of the beach.

When we walked along the other beach, Melone had ended up hitting it off with this girl who was there with her friends. She was very pretty and had long, dark hair. She said she was vacationing from some other country… If I remember correctly, it was Wales. I had never met someone from that far up north before! 

Despite his usual demeanor, Melone got pretty nervous around this girl and began to get tongue-tied, but Illuso and I stepped in as wingmen and helped! Melone ended up getting the girl's number. She’ll be in town for a few more days, so I wonder what will become of that…

With belongings in hand, we all trudged up the path back to the parking lot again. Illuso and Marsala were just sitting on the overhang, though. I guess she hadn't left this spot since I did. When I passed by them, I stopped for a moment.

 

“Aren't you coming, Illuso?” I asked.

 

“No… I’m staying the night with my lady.” He patted her leg. “You guys take care.”

 

“You too. Have a good night, Marsala.”

 

“I will. And good job putting those men in their place,” she said. 

 

I walked away with a smile while they stayed behind. By the time I reached the parking lot, I could still see them enjoying each other’s company.

 

*

 

Marsala's perspective

Today had been exhausting, but it had been nice too… It was exhausting in the way that all things I did were. I still enjoyed it, even if I wouldn't freely admit that so plainly.

 

Illuso was sitting by my side, looking out at the sunset with me, his hand in mine. In moments like these, we were quiet. I just felt that comfortable with him, I supposed, but if I told him that, I’d inflate his ego too much. He’s gotten enough compliments for one day.

 

Still, though, ever since he caught my attention, I felt something inherent with him, like I had known him forever but I was just relearning some small things. 

 

After about twenty minutes, he glanced over at me before remarking, “That’s a pretty necklace.”

 

I looked down at the memento hanging from my neck. That bottle filled with a shiny substance from all those years ago… I didn't wear it often, for fear of it breaking, but the reminder it had become of what I could overcome gave me confidence. I clutched it in my free hand, inspecting the red flecks in it, which had turned an extremely dark color and become flaky over the years. I wondered how LSEI was doing, wherever he was…

 

“It is…” I rubbed the bottle gently with my thumb, staring ahead. “I was gifted it by a friend when he assassinated my ex-boyfriend for me.”

 

“Did you ever keep in contact with that friend of yours?” 

 

“No…” I sighed. “Sadly, he had to cut contact with me. I truly cared for him, though. When he left the box with this necklace in it on my doorstep, I tried to chase him down in the rain. I’ve missed him a lot over the years… I think he was my first love. In truth, I had told myself in my mind that it was Prosciutto, and that’s why I was so obsessed with him, but… I know better now. It was never him. I don't know who it was. I think he’s probably long gone by now.”

 

“Really? That’s a shame… What do you think he’s up to right now?”

 

I shrugged. “I can't be sure. If he’s not dead, maybe he escaped Passione. Maybe he’s living a nice life somewhere with a civilian job. Or maybe he stayed in Passione and got assigned to a new department. I don't know. Whatever happened to him, I hope he’s at peace now.”

 

Illuso turned my head to look at him, a glassy-eyed and emotional look on his usually overly-smug face. He cupped my face in his hand, caressing my cheek with his thumb and, despite not understanding what he was doing, I leaned into his affection.

 

“What if I told you,” he began, “that he was staring into the eyes of the love of his life and holding her closely. And what if I told you that you were his first love as well, but he knew you were better off living in freedom and just prayed every night in front of his altar that someday, fate would bring the two of you together again? What if I told you that he’s ready to marry you right now, just like he promised when he was fifteen, if that’s what you wanted, because he believes fate has intertwined you both?”

 

My eyes widened at his proclamations and I began to breathe more rapidly. No, it can’t be… This was… He was– Am I dreaming? My heart was racing at this point and I felt too stunned to speak. I wondered if my face showed it. I hope it did. I want so badly to smile right now. LSEI… It all makes sense now. It was an acronym.

 

“ ‘La Squadra di Esecuzioni: Illuso’... That’s what it meant,” I said, my voice barely audible.

 

He nodded, and for the first time, I saw tears leave his eyes, though he was smiling. “Yeah… I can’t believe you kept that necklace all these years. What’s in that bottle is the crushed up shard of mirror that I used to kill Mapo. The red coloring is his blood…” He held the pendant in his hand, reminiscing.

 

“You saved my life…” I whispered, feeling warm tears cling to my lower lashes like morning dew on a rose.

 

He held up his wrist, permanently marred with scars. “You saved mine. This stopped when you reached out to me. I found a purpose in you.”

 

I suddenly pulled him into the tightest hug my body could muster, sobbing for the first time since I lost my ability to emote. This felt strange and revolting– to cry –but it felt life-giving and existentially comforting at the same time. He didn't try to hide his tears from me either and I liked that. It made me feel safe to cry too.

 

I pulled away from our hug in order to hold his face, and due to the sobs I was keeping back, my voice sounded almost as emotional as I really felt… I felt human.

 

“I have loved you every day for nearly ten years, Huàn Ming, and I know that I will spend the rest of my life loving you too. I plan to be your wife very soon.”

 

Now it was his turn to be speechless. His teary, red eyes looked like sunsets of their own as the sky reflected off of them, and when I looked into them, I knew what the rest of my life looked like.

 

“My real name?” he whimpered.

 

“ Mhm.” I nodded 

 

He collapsed into me, burying his face in my chest and sobbing. I like to think I was handling this better than him, the big baby… I gently rubbed his back and I swear I felt the corner of my lip twitch into a smile for even a second. 

 

“I love you too, Marsala!” he shouted with a muffled, blubbering voice. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you! I never stopped loving you! I realized it was you when I saw the necklace today and I’ve been keeping this under wraps for as long as possible but I literally can’t take it anymore! I love you so much…”

 

I kissed the top of his head and he wrapped his arms around me, slowly simmering down and returning to a normal breathing pattern. When he lifted his head up, his entire face was stained with tears and a little puffy and red but I liked it. His perfectly pressed facade had cracked and revealed the emotional man he was underneath. It was imperfectly beautiful, just like me.

 

“Sorry,” he said, sniffling and rubbing his eyes. “I look so ugly when I cry, don’t I?” He let out a little laugh but it was halfhearted.

 

“Not to me.”

 

As soon as he looked at me, I held his face in my hands and pulled him into a passionate, fiery kiss. I had no choice but to tackle him right then and there, straddling his hips and coaxing a desperate, pleasantly surprised groan out of him. He wrapped his arms around me, one around my waist and the other tangled in my hair. Being this close was nothing new for us, but this time was different… I wanted nothing but to show him how much I cared for him. He was my best friend in the entire world and I craved his presence in every step of life I have walked. 

 

Once the kiss died down, I laid my head on his chest and we laughed about how we were “destined to meet again”, and such, reminiscing about the past.

 

Perhaps I’ve changed my tune on my outlook on life…

 

Maybe some men are worth crying over.

 

Maybe some of them are worth marrying too.

 

-- Chapter End --

🌿🌿//🍷🍷

Notes:

You might be wondering why this chapter is named the same thing as the other one, but with extra little words to it. Well, that's 'cause the artist released a second version of the song with an extra verse, hence the "Extra Sticky" thing. Listen to Popsicle (Extra Sticky) by bludnymph! Uploads may or may not slow down soon depending on how busy life gets, but I thank you all with your patience while I fight daily stress and lack of motivation lol

Notes:

You can find the official The Players Tumblr here for original character/Stand art/profiles, chapters in their original formatting, fun extras, and author interaction! Check it out: https://www.tumblr.com/theplayersau

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of The Players