Blood and Roses

8 | The Underground

~Camila

Well, here's an interesting tale to recount. Angelo, an individual who possesses a peculiar influence over me, unlike anyone else before. It's as if he possesses some mysterious power to manipulate my emotions, making me believe he's deserving of my affection. Strangely enough, a part of my mind seems to be undergoing a transformation, urging me to grant Angelo a chance. This newfound voice insists that his efforts are solely directed towards me, that every ounce of love he offers is meant for my sake. Apparently, he's sacrificing various aspects of himself solely for my benefit. There's a side of me that I never knew existed, one that contends he's worth it. It claims that with him, I can rediscover happiness: the joy of smiling, laughing, and experiencing a general sense of contentment. Of course, I repeatedly admonish myself, stating that we're an incompatible pair and that Angelo doesn't deserve someone like me. Nevertheless, against my better judgment, I somehow find a tiny space within me that whispers "yes."

In a rare moment of vulnerability, I found myself faced with an unexpected emotion yesterday as we were on the run. Against all odds, a smile crept onto my face, something I hadn't experienced in ages. I attempted to conceal it from Angelo, but I suspect he caught a glimpse of it. Surprisingly, I didn't feel the usual need to hide it from him. It had been such a long time since I last felt the simple pleasure of smiling that this newfound sensation was truly remarkable. I turned towards Angelo, my eyes possibly reflecting a glimmer of warmth, and my cheeks blushed with subtle shades of red and pink, all because I was smiling.

Angelo has an uncanny understanding of me, knowing that I seldom allow myself such displays of emotion anymore. It made me wonder what he must have thought when witnessing that rare smile yesterday. Despite my best efforts to resist, I can't help but entertain the idea that there's something about him that draws me in. Perhaps it's the sympathy he's shown me, a kindness that no one in my life has ever offered.

Another intriguing development occurred last night, much like the incident when we were evading the authorities. It seems that something as ignited within me again, although I must admit, I couldn't quite pinpoint the exact cause of my emotions. There was an inexplicable surge of sympathy and tenderness that washed over me while Angelo opened up about Felix, and when he asked to share a moment of intimacy by sleeping together. His gesture of resting his head on my stomach, which eventually led to me gently stroking his hair, evoked unexpected feelings within me.

This all led me to ponder an unusual notion: the idea that Angelo was somehow deserving of my sympathy. I was genuinely taken aback when I allowed him to share my bed, and permitting him to lay on my stomach and engage in the intimate act of playing with his hair marked significant steps forward. Such inner reflections made me question myself deeply. How was Angelo able to evoke these emotions within me? And more importantly, should I permit myself to experience these feelings towards him? Dare I even consider the possibility of love?

As I stirred in bed, a sliver of hope led me to reach out, whispering his name softly, but my hand encountered only the cool touch of the bed sheets instead of his warm presence. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I searched the room with an urgency born out of a desire to find him, yet he remained elusive. Perhaps he had returned to his own room, or maybe he had even departed the apartment altogether. The uncertainty weighed on me as I let out a tired sigh, feeling the weight of weariness in my bones. The clock on the wall informed me it was already eleven in the morning.

Summoning the remnants of my energy, I reluctantly made my way to Angelo's bedroom, but he was nowhere to be found there either. So, like that first morning when I woke up in his place, I found myself going through his closet and picking out one of his over sized shirts. He was a tall and bigger man compared to me, but the shirts offered a surprising comfort, carrying the familiar scent of roses and rain, his distinctive fragrance. I managed to make it a bit more fitting by tying a knot on the side, then put on a pair of clean pants, courtesy of Angelo, who had thoughtfully washed my clothes for me. After having my breakfast, I stood motionless in the living room for what felt like an eternity. Without Angelo's presence, I felt adrift, unsure of what to do with myself.