prompt: Damiano used to date your sister, but now that she's dead you're the only thing that can keep her alive for him, making him not worried that he might forget her face.
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You remembered well the first time you saw Damiano. It was on the first of many parties you would go in your life, it was the night of your 18th birthday and considering how introverted and reserved you were, your sister, who although looks a lot like you, appearance wise, your personalities were complete opposites, decided that you needed to celebrate in a dignified way. Well, you were two years apart, but her behavior at parties made her seem older than her age, she appeared more experienced, she tolerated drinks well and her charisma was perfect, just right for the party. As much as you always imagined she would be like that, given you were used to seeing her come home late at night on weekends, it was fascinating, even a little intimidating to see for yourself. Basically, Parrot’s Beak was made for her. After 45 minutes of partying, your eyes had noticed Damiano drinking with some friends, his cheekbones were prominent cute, his eyes were striking, and the drink was starting to take effect on his cheeks making them become a lovely, flushed pink - almost like his skin was begging to be kissed. You could replay that moment in your head whenever you wanted, you didn’t even have to close your eyes. Over time, you’ve forced yourself to smile at him, pull your hair out of your eyes between shy glances, trying your hardest to make yourself good-looking for him. It didn’t take long for him to walk towards you, making your nervous and hopeful smile in the process turn into disappointment. You soon realized his glances in between swigs of beer were not for you, but for your sister. He hadn’t even noticed you there, and the sensation that filled your body was painful. That night you accepted you were left out as they walked to the bathroom, and the best to do was to keep your first impressions of Damiano to yourself. It would be the best thing to do; even after the 4-year anniversary of them being together, and of you still finding Damiano stunning.
“You need to stop callin’ me,” you sighed, brushing the back of your hand over your eyes. It was dawn, if she had been there, she would have already made you get up, would have taken the phone from your hands and lay on top of you, making you laugh until you’d fall asleep together. “It’s been almost a year now; you need to stop calling me.”
“But you always make it better,” his drunk voice echoed in your ear. Strange, but you liked listening to him, he spent so many years making her happy that listening to him was like feeling her smiling widely at you after buying chocolate cake at the coffee bar around the corner that you now worked for.
“What do I make better, Damiano?” You asked, prolonging something that didn’t feel right.
“Me,” he sighed deeply, making you do the same. “I like your voice, even more after you’ve woken up, it’s so calm and crystal clear,” He kept talking until your voice broke into a sharp sob as you tried to bite your lip to contain yourself, if she was there she would’ve calmed him down with just a word; but she wasn’t, and he was like that because he didn’t have her anymore.
“I like you Dami, I truly wish you nothing but the best, but I can’t do this anymore,” you verbalized, knowing there were chances of him being oblivious to the fact that he was looking for you because you reminded him of her. “I miss her too, and it’s being too painful.”
With that being said you hung up the phone, pressing it against your chest knowing he would call again next night and then you would pick up, exchange a few words with him, feeling miserable right after for letting him do it again; but the truth was, on the next day you would feel good, not in a healthy way, but in a nostalgic way that would leave you trapped in a cheery image of your sister; whenever she had the opportunity to describe how amazing a date with Damiano was would make you bear through the day.
