The Italian Delight

one

Marco couldn't sleep.

It was another night he was spending awake only with his own thoughts, and he knew way too well there were so many similar sleepless nights incoming.

He was trying his best not to show this side of him to anyone, and he was doing it well, since nobody could ever guess he would break down every other night.
He believed all the terrible scenarios his brain was feeding him at night were proving his weakness, and he felt somehow scared of the thought of someone finding out.

What made him even more embarrassed was that he couldn't name the problem. He tried. God knows he did.
Nonetheless, he couldn't complain about a single aspect of his life. He had everything.

He was happy, committed to work to stay happy for the rest of his life, healthy, had a great group of people around him, had a wonderful girlfriend, he couldn't complain.

He shouldn't complain.

Maybe it was the fear of losing this all. He couldn't keep on drowning himself in the swamp of these scenarios, not when he has so many people who love him.
Not when he got into his dream school. Not when he finally found Sophie, the soul he's been looking for.

She was really sweet and bubbly, but not really the type of a person who would sit down and listen to other's vents.
She was always content, smiling, making her surroundings smile too, but honestly, she was terrible at comforting.

And Marco knew it.

He knew she would try to smile it away if he admitted to her that he's been trying to name a certain problem he has, but she'd be unsuccessful.

Marco found himself coming to the same conclusion over and over again; Sophie was a great distraction.

Beautiful, kind, funny and talkative girl who had an amazing ability to make Marco forget how miserable he felt just a few hours ago.

Even though he believed a man shouldn't ever refer to his girlfriend as a distraction and he was sure that a man who needs distraction should indulge himself in a one night stand instead of breaking another heart, he couldn't help it.

The word sounded the same to Marco throughout all the situations it could be used in, but Sophie was his distraction. She was his short term solution to all of his problems.
And he hated to think like this since he believed Sophie that she actually felt deeply in love with him.

She was pure.

Definitely too pure to deserve to be called a short term solution, but Marco couldn't change the feeling it's how he sees Sophie.

He would usually tremble at this though and sometimes even consider breaking up with Sophie, just because she really deserves better.
It's a common excuse at the end of a relationship, but Marco meant it.

Back in January, when their love was being put to a tough test, he even prepared a few break up letters and wrote a few break up messages, but he was never strong enough or drunk enough to send it.

He needs to let the past go. He loves her, she loves him and there's nothing bad about her distracting him from his fears.

She'd be honoured to be his distraction, if she cared to listen to his voice for once.

If she could do it.
But she just couldn't.

And Marco was convinced when he finally found someone so unique as Sophie, someone who can make all his problems disappear for a while, he had to love every single aspect of her personality.

It'd be moral of him to love everything about her, he was having a hard time accepting how she never listened though.

So many nights he has spent awake trying to figure out how to accept it, eventually how to fall in love with it. He didn't have anyone else he'd trust as much as he trusted Sophie, so somehow he came to a conclusion it's probably normal to struggle with loving only one part of her personality.

He had this issue with everyone he ever knew, but with Sophie, he only needed one thing to change in order to be fully satisfied, for which he was thankful.

With his friends, it could be like 20 different aspects he'd want them to change in order for him to be happier in that certain friendship, as if he didn't know sometimes he'd be happier if he just stopped talking with them.

But he didn't want to lose anyone he had around.
For the sake of his own happiness and pride he couldn't lose anyone he had around.

It was probably the reason he would stay awake until 4 am every other night, and when he'd finally fall asleep, he'd be woken up maximally after an hour, because once he's sleeping, it's his dreams what abuses him.

Many nightmares were practically the same, Sophie leaving him by saying that cheating is the only thing he was good at.

In fact, he wasn't even thinking about this stuff, and he knew it, but he also knew that if Sophie somehow would get such a nonsense into her head, he wouldn't get a chance to explain and prove her wrong.

Every nightmare wasn't this exact scenario. Sometimes he'd meet his father. Even now, more than ten years of being out of touch with his father, the memories felt like a barbed wire around his soul.

Even when Marco could finally see his mother smile again, even when his younger sister stopped spending her nights at her friend's house because she started feeling safe in her own room again, even when he could hold someone as sweet as Sophie.

And that was another thing that made him feel slightly guilty, that he's still not over it.
He was only eight when he saw his father for the last time, and since then, he never mentioned his name to anyone.

He wanted, of course he wanted, but somehow it was too painful to be spoken about. He would share his own pain with someone else, and who could understand something so twisted?

Except for his mom and sister.

He wouldn't ever do such a thing to them, though.

His mother was dealing her own way in silence and so did his sister, so he had to do the same.
Maybe both of them spend their nights awake.
Maybe Agnese, Marco's sister, still hides under the bed and begs her mom to say 'she's at some sleepover again' so that he won't look for her, just in case he comes back.

Marco was through a bit more than was necessary, but he would love it if he knew how to start living without thinking about what has been. Since the eighth year of his life, nobody has hurt him.

And he's eighteen now.

It's not the same as it was.
He's not the same as his dad was.
And he doesn't need another night of thinking about how hurtful it used to be for him seeing all the kids being led to school by their fathers.
Seeing all the dads showing up to support their child's team at a football match.
The dads who kept and framed the paintings their kids made.

It all was painful.

But now, after eighteen years of not being loved by his dad, Marco knew nothing is going to change. Even if it would change now, it would be too late to mean anything.

He's not a toddler anymore.
He doesn't need anyone with whom he could play with toy cars anymore.
Now, he doesn't need what he needed back then.

But maybe it was exactly how it was meant to be. Maybe even when it burns the most, it's how it's meant to be.