mommy | a.rlecchino

XVI

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Rosaria glances over to the empty box of cigarettes by her side. Maybe she was being dramatic, shouting at the only girl she loved and then drowning her sorrows in loud music and something that will kill her before she hits thirty. But, did she really care? Yes. But don't tell her that.

A loud sigh passes through her. It's stupid, but she misses Rosalyne.

But why waste time missing someone so...? Well, what was the word for that behavior even? Toxic? Manipulative? Misunderstood?

Rosaria's eyes glaze over the shape of her phone, highlighted only by the little light she let into her room from the window. She had half thought about Rosalyne shooting her a message, so she could yell at her again— but it seemed even the blonde didn't want to speak to her. Rosaria felt...well, she didn't know. The pain of missing Rosalyne and wanting (yet not wanting) her to call was unbearable.

Rosaria leans back completely on her bed and stares at the ceiling. The stubble of one of her previous life shortening killers (cigarettes) lays limp in her mouth and her hair sprawls out around her, a messy display that mirrors her messy life. Another sigh. What's worse is Rosalyne could come back. Anytime she wanted. It's not like Rosaria was attempting to keep her out.

She really wanted to let her in.

The ceiling above Rosaria is a blank white, with blue undertones. And of course, it reminds of Rosalyne's eyes. She looks over and catches sight of one of her jackets, and it reminds her of one of their 'dates'. A groan leaves and she looks the other way, toward the pillows on her bed. Naturally, the only things she can think of are the many shared nights. Her brain is a fucking mess.

A click sounds, louder and slightly echoed by the prominent silence throughout the house. Rosaria knows it's Rosalyne coming back, and for some reason she's now starting to regret giving the blonde a key during their no-talk-just-ignore standoff. She hears the familiar clack and jingle of keys falling onto the counter, and can make out quiet humming.

Must be nice being so chipper.

Rosaria grumbles in her head, curling over onto her side and grabbing a pillow. She tugs it to her chest and closes her eyes, attempting a form of solace.

"Rosaria..!" A soft call.

So much for solace.

Rosalyne's heels hit the ground much more gentler than usual, and Rosaria can hear when she's just outside her door. Her voice is much softer now. "Can we talk..? Please?"

Rosaria wants to say no, but she can't say that to her. Instead she holds the pillow tighter. "Yeah," She calls out. "Come in."

The door opens hesitantly. Adjusting to the room's ambience after Rosalyne's Aura completely grabs ahold of it is jarring to Rosaria, but she doesn't speak. She hears Rosalyne glide across the room, and feels the familiar dip in her bed, she half expects Rosalyne to touch her somehow— hand on her thigh, or waist, but no. Rosalyne sits silently.

She sucks in a breath, Rosalyne breathes one out.

"I went to Y/n's dorm," Rosalyne suddenly mumbles. Rosaria feels her body tense further. "I apologized to her."

Rosaria mutters despite herself. "Really? I didn't think you knew what an apology was."

She hates the way her words make Rosalyne stop talking. Please, she's pleading to no one, I want to hear you speak. I miss you.

"Rosaria..." The blonde breathes through her nose once and her voice grows quieter, like a small child's. "I'm so sorry- I, I didn't want us to become so finalized because that would mean—"