Tender gangster

Ghost

The first time you secretly leave your VIP-ward, bribing the nurse with a smile and a colorful banknote. The bodyguards standing outside the door just nod: you suspect that these guys have long ago understood everything about the one who took the peace from their boss's mind. After all, it's accidentally that Pete grinned significantly when he brought everything you ordered the day before.

You limp a little. Above the heart there still hurts. But this is not the main thing.

I would like to see him. At least take a peek. After those crazy days together, you have no idea how you decided to let him go. But not everything we do has an explanation. It's just interesting: why did he come back?

His humble ward. Separate, but, of course, compared to your apartment — just a nook.

He's sleeping curled up. You obviously don't turn on the light, but the silver ray from the moon so beautifully emphasizes the visible part of the face. Carefully you sit on the edge of the bed. You try not to groan, although any movement reverberates in the body like a blow on a taut string.

So handsome. And so cute when you don't swear. Porsche… You look like a child. The lips are so... slightly weathered, but still soft and relaxed ... I would like to cling to them, but only wake up right away. And what will I tell you? I let you go and I can't part with?

Unable to overcome yourself, you reach out with the palm and gently swipe through his hair. Porsche smiles in his sleep, muttering something indistinctly.

And you realize that you would give a lot just to be with him again for a whole day away from everyone and everything.

Suddenly your hand happens to be in the ring of his fingers. Porsche's eyes are closed. You realize that this is just an unaccountable impulse in a dream. That's just how to get out now? He grabbed your palm and won't let go. He also clings to it, like the most affectionate warm kitten.

You don't mind. Like this. Hand in hand. All night long. To admire him until dawn, enjoying the moments won from fate and at the same time cursing their evanescence..

A ringing exclamation.

Startled, he jumps up on the bed, squeezing into the corner of the bed with fear.

"Hush, hush, what are you doing, huh?"

You don't know: laugh, hurry away before he wakes up, or try to calm him down again.

Rapid breathing is becoming calm. You reach for the bedside table and turn on the night light:

"It's me, Kinn. What are you so scared of?"

Swallows. The eyebrows are drawn together to the bridge of the nose, on which the scratch is still red.

"What's that… Walking around here at night… Like a ghost. I didn't figure it out in my sleep."

Oh!.. Mentally doing facepalm: of course, he's scared to death of ghosts, how could you forget?

"Well, I'm sorry... no one would have let me go during the day. This," you nod at the basket with fruits and sweets, "is for you… Get well soon."

You intend to get up when hear:

"Yeah. Pretty good., of course."

"Er?"

"You scared the hell out of me and you're leaving. How do I sleep now?"

You are afraid to give out premature happiness with a smile. As calmly as possible you ask:

"And what do you suggest?"

Porsche plays with his eyebrows and lays down on his side near the wall, nodding to you on an empty space from the edge: come on.

You climb under the blanket, leaning on the edge of the pillow: Porsche has only one. The latter notices this inconvenience and, standing up, gives it to you completely.

"And you?"

No. You can't hide the happy eyes. Even the darkness of the night betrays them treacherously: Porsche's head falls on your tummy, and his fingers are intertwined with yours again:

"You sent me away for some reason..." he grumbles quite kindly, settling himself more comfortably on you and quietly adding: ... what an idiot."

"I wanted it the best," you start your favourite activity: stroking his hair, burying your fingers in their softness. "I thought I'd let you go, and my Porsche wouldn't have to blurt in all this shit anymore. And he will be happy."

"That's the thing: I am yours. And if so, I should always be there. Is that clear to you?"

He looks at you in such a way from under his brows that you are eager to extinguish the moon: let only his eyes shine. Then he hugs you all over, pressing his cheek to the booming heart under his ribs, and his lips barely audibly output: don't you dare drive me away anymore, it won't work anyway.

You understand: you really are an idiot.

How will you do now without each other?