Everything was calm. Everything was quiet. No one ever mentioned that night. No news company ever reported the man's body. Everyone in that nightclub that night kept silent, but they all wondered what happened. A man died at the freedom of gunshots, and no one will ever understand why.
The weeks passed quietly. Each day felt like a week in itself. We never spoke of that night again, but things never felt the same after it. Luca grew more engrossed in his work by the day, his tiredness getting the best of him. I saw him less and less, and my stomach sickened at the thought.
I couldn't help but think it was my fault. I couldn't help but take the blame for pushing him away with something that's completely out of my control. It all felt fake, unworldly. It sounds stupid, thinking to myself the circumstances of what has happened.
I would give anything to understand it, but I would also give anything to have Luca back. It feels as if slowly, I am losing him day by day. I told myself to not think about it, but it has grown physically and mentally impossible not to.
I stare at the wall, curled in a tight ball on the bed, leaning against the backboard. The room is completely silent, the TV not on and no birds singing outside. Over the past few weeks, I've noticed less and less people in the house. More people left every week, leaving behind the luxurious mansion to sit sullenly by itself.
I peer over at the clock, reading nine fourteen. I sigh to myself quietly, unfolding my legs and standing to walk to the bathroom. Just as I make it inside, a knock sounds on the bedroom doors. I jump slightly, but quickly rush to open it. There in the threshold stands a worn and beaten Luca, crimson veins spreading like tree roots under his cornea.
"May I come in?" He asks, and I open the door wide to let him enter.
He walks in slowly, his steps almost awkward. He strides to the window and pulls back the curtains to let just a pinch of sun into the overall very dull room.
"How would you feel if we went out tonight? I wanted to ask you first before making any plans."
"I would love to," I answer, trying to hide my excitement and sudden burst of happiness at his offer.
He pivots on his foot to face me, the corners of his lips turned up, his smile reaching from ear to ear. He walks over to me and places both of his hands gently onto my waist.
"I promise we will go somewhere that doesn't have many people. Okay? There's this wonderful cafe in Florence that I think you would love, after that I want to take you sightseeing around Florence," he pulls me closer as my heart begins to beat faster. His touch never fails to turn my body into a steaming hot bucket of lava.
He places a hand on my cheek, just as he always does when he holds me close. My eyes flutter shut, taking in his soft palms as I inhale his scent, this time smelling like fresh cinnamon and mint.
"You deserve to see so much of the world, and I want to be the one to show it to you. I-I want you to feel safe with me, too, and I want you to feel that you can trust me with your safety at all times. I realize now that I was stupid to disregard your obvious nervousness to go to that club, and for that I am so, deeply sorry."
He places a soft kiss on my forehead, holding the back of my neck to pull it close to his lips that stood six inches taller than my own.
"I do feel safe with you, and I trust you, I promise you that."
"Well I'm glad," he beams down at me, placing another kiss atop my forehead. He pulls me into his arms after, his strong muscles flexing on my back.
I press my ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat from below his skin. Listening to his heart feels so nice, so warm, it's soothing knowing that he is there, alive, and not just a figment of my imagination.
"So...you are okay with going out?"
I nod, "Yes."
"Good."
"When are we leaving?"
"Five. An hour before sunset. I want to be able to show you the city of Florence at night for real this time, not zooming past it on a motorcycle," we both chuckle, remembering that moment in time that felt so long ago and so distant.
"I would love that very much," I say warmly.
"I would, too, my love."
YOU ARE READING
Pretty Poison
Romance[COMPLETED] The question has always been about love. What is it? What does it feel like? Where does it come from? For her, this question lingers like an unanswered prayer. For him it was the same; blessed with a family of riches yet abse...
