Victoria, Rome
When I exit Thomas' room I see from the hallway that Damiano is sleeping soundly on the sofa, a magnetic force making me slowly get closer to him, so I can take a look at him, my body longing the brief touch he gave me previously. I don't control my senses as I let myself slip into the temptation of getting a longer taste of his comfort. I go around the couch, sitting on the edge of it to take a better look at his features. His dark eyes are closed, his eyelids keeping me from getting lost in his gaze, something that happens every time our looks interlock; his lips are sealed together, making me remember our kiss, a shared passion that makes my heart ache, knowing I can't have him like that again. My eyes run along his serene expression, which if I didn't know the war his battling within himself, would make him look like the happiest man.
When we're about to make an irreversible choice, we have an angel on our right shoulder and the devil on the other, yet tonight it seems like they've both agreed on convincing me that I place my head on his chest and fully lay down next to him, placing my hand over his beating heart, its steady rhythm feeding my hurting soul with comfort. He shifts in his sleep, making room for me in the reduced space and wraps his arms around me, making our bodies fit like puzzle pieces. I cling to him and he tightens his hold around my body, making me want to cry at the amount of love I didn't know his heart could give, shutting my loneliness in a coffin and burying it deep down under the ground.
"Vic? Are you alright?" he whispers almost inaudibly and I just try hard to contain my desire to break down in sobs, my chest hurting with each attempt. I just sniff in response and he runs his fingers through my hair, trying to calm me.
I took his advice, took advantage of the fact that he was here and let myself go, let myself fall for him, only for the sake of the impossible opportunity to have him how I'd desire.
"It's okay," he murmurs quietly, rubbing my back in circling motion, and he lies to me again because it's really not okay, nothing is nor will be for a long while, yet I let go for today, I stop trying to fix whatever I was attempting to fix, something that is still unknown to me.
The first rays of sun find us clutching each other, holding onto a possibility both of us know does not exist. It's almost easier to wait for his mean self to push me away than to choose myself to leave him, denying my heart what it's been asking for since our gazes first met. In a dreamy paradox, sleep comes when night leaves, giving me the only couple of hours that have provided me rest, in what my soul considers the most protected place, away from all sadness and pain.
My sleep gets interrupted by the door bell, knowing that soon I'll have to abandon the moment that has made me the happiest in years, turning me back to everyday's sorrow.
"Damiano, wake up, I think Giorgia's here," I let him know in a shouted whisper, trying to spare him an argument because of what was probably my reckless choice.
While I approach the door, the thought that in another life I was properly a doorman or something crosses my mind, as I am the one in charge of opening many doors, letting in everything that can mess up my life in a matter of seconds, just like I first let Damiano in.
When I reach the doorknob and twist it, the door flies open to reveal the person responsible for many of my pains, making me remain blocked in front of him. The first thing about him that reaches me is this smell, neat alcohol mixed with a faint smell of tobacco, making me transport back to the last time I saw him, drunk out of his mind too.
"What are you doing here?" I ask after I regain my ability to speak, Damiano still on the couch, probably wondering why his girlfriend actually sounds like a man.
"Who is it, Victoria?" Asks Damiano and I don't even look his way, my gaze still glued on the man in front of me.
"How did you find me?" I proceed to ask, after I get no response for my first question.
"Thomas' mother," my father replies, his first words to me in years.
"What are you doing here?" I ask again, more defensive this time, making Damiano join me at the door.
"I just wanted to see you, my sweet girl," he approaches me, and touches my cheek with his cold hand, making me back away instantly, Damiano putting his arm in between us, protectively.
"Back off," says the man that was sharing the most healing moment with me just moments ago, making my father frown in rage.
"Don't tell me to back off! I'm her father!" He yells getting closer, making Damiano turn his head towards me, as if he were waiting for me to confirm the information he just learned.
I take a step back when he comes close, and turn around when I hear Thomas arrive to the room as well.
"Alessandro," he starts nervously, "what are you doing here?" asks him and I curse myself at the moment I thought of my parent, invoking him here.
"I want to talk to my daughter," he's calmer now, probably trying to achieve his goal, looking at Thomas with the fakest, most theatrical gaze.
"Okay," I accept, letting him enter so Damiano can shut the door closed behind him.
Thomas rushes to grab the sheets that were covering the couch, making the room look tidier as we proceed to take a seat, my father stumbling on his way to the sitting area.
"You look beautiful, Victoria," he manages to make me uncomfortable as he fixes a strand of hair behind my ear, making it impossible for me to reply to his compliment. His breath feels heavy in the air, toxic with alcohol and I feel ashamed of the ways I had found to forget about my pains at the sight of him.
"What do you want to talk about?" I ask, moving straight to the point, watching the boys walk to the kitchen to give me some privacy. "Thomas! You can stay," I call him almost desperately, making them both turn around and sit, him next to me and Damiano on the armchair.
"Listen, Victoria," my father starts, looking down, slurring his alcohol soaked words, "I heard your mother died," he says bluntly, tactless.
"Yeah," I murmur quietly in response.
"You have to understand," he wants to explain himself, how he ran from the vows he once swore at the altar to the woman he loved, "that I couldn't handle it."
"Yeah, Dad," I tell him annoyed, filled with irony, "she was sick, yet you couldn't handle it. It's fine actually," I laugh sarcastically.
"Victoria!" He raises his voice again, calling my attention at the way I'm behaving, just like when I was a little kid, yet I feel no fear.
"Take it easy, man," warns Damiano, yet my father chooses to disregard him this time.
"Where did you go?" I ask him, yet he dodges the question, running his hand over his hace in frustration.
"I had to go," he says trying to find proper words to express himself.
Tears threaten to fall down my cheeks as I'm not getting the responses I was wishing for.
"You left me alone!" I raise my voice now too. "You lied to her all those years before she fell ill! You're a scum!" I say getting up, making him get up too.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Vic," he manages to say a tad bit defensive as well.
"The hell you are!" I yell, "You're an excuse of a father! You were an excuse of a husband!" I finish and with those words his hand reaches my cheek, making me fall to the ground with the force of his slap.
YOU ARE READING
Runaway | Damoria
Fanfiction"How long is it going to take for the battle inside of ourselves to be over?" That's the question she kept asking herself just before her battle was over, as another one begun.
