Blood and Roses

10 | Sympathy Is Overrated

~Camila

Last night, when Angelo urged me to leave, I found myself in a difficult predicament. I had caused him so much pain, and it weighed heavily on my conscience. I genuinely wanted to make amends, but fate didn’t grant me that opportunity. Upon his return to the apartment past midnight, I noticed the signs of his distress. His red and puffy eyes revealed the depth of his sorrow, perhaps having cried through the night.

Despite my efforts to apologize, I understood his reaction when he shut his bedroom door on me, locking me out. The truth is, I had shattered his heart, and now I’m uncertain if it can ever be repaired. The awareness that he now lives with someone who once intended harm upon him, someone he fears, is both saddening and regrettable. Even if I have reconsidered my intentions, his fear is understandable.

Throughout the morning, Angelo has chosen to stay in his room, avoiding any contact with me. The guilt I feel is indescribable, knowing that I hurt someone I never wished to hurt, even if it was part of a larger mission. I must confess that everything I told Angelo yesterday was untrue. The words were born of deception, and my feelings towards him were quite the opposite. I never wanted him to be inconsequential, nor did I have any intention of causing him harm. I yearn to take back every word I spoke, but for now, I realize that granting Angelo some space is in his best interest.

Surprisingly, Angelo emerged from his room half-dressed and seemingly disoriented. He made his way to the couch, covering himself with that quirky cow print blanket, and turned on an episode of Attack On Titan. I pretended not to notice, deliberately averting my gaze to avoid any reaction. Rather than expressing annoyance or frustration, I found myself wearing a small, secret smile. It was progress, wasn’t it? The fact that he ventured out of his room was a positive sign.

Angelo rested on the couch with his legs propped up on the ottoman while I continued to prepare breakfast. Knowing his preference, I decided to make his favorite, blueberry pancakes. He remained silent, but I understood and respected his need for space and privacy. I was more than willing to grant him all the time he needed to process his feelings. Perhaps it was the first step towards healing, and I acknowledged that it was essential to be patient and give him the necessary room to recover. There was no need for words at the moment; actions would speak louder than anything I could say.

With a skillful hand, I prepared the blueberry pancakes, ensuring they were stacked neatly on three separate plates. Each pancake was generously drizzled with syrup, and for Angelo’s plate, I decided to go the extra mile, adorning it with a dollop of fluffy whipped cream. A small indulgence for him, I supposed. As the bacon sizzled in the pan nearby, I couldn’t help but glance in Angelo’s direction. Holding a piece of the bacon between my fingers, I raised it up, making sure he noticed it.

“Bacon?”

As I stood there, holding the piece of bacon, Angelo momentarily tore his gaze away from the anime episode. He let out a heavy sigh, a clear sign of his troubled emotions, before returning his attention to the TV. Despite my hope that the gesture might provide some comfort, it was evident that he wasn’t interested in the bacon, or anything else for that matter.

Still, I put a few pieces of bacon on his plate, a small attempt to show some semblance of care. Even if he didn’t want it, I wanted to maintain the illusion of being considerate, even in the face of his apparent indifference.

As I left his plate on the counter, an idea crossed my mind. I slid mine and Luca’s plates in front of our seats, ensuring that everything appeared normal. Then, choosing not to disturb Angelo further, I decided to handle Luca’s situation myself. Instead of calling Angelo to wake him up as I usually would, I trudged towards Luca’s bedroom.