TC Mafia AU One-Shots

purple and pink

A young boy about 12 sat in the garden of a two-story cobble-stoned house. He had messy dark brown hair that reached his shoulders, curling at the tips. He wore a mildly disheveled red button-up and dark grey jeans. There was a tightness to his eyes, the hand leaning against the still slightly mushy earth and curling up into a ball. The other had his dark fingers running through a girl about four's even darker hair.

His freckled cheeks had a slight red hue to them, and he looked like he didn't know what to say. The girl close to him had one of her tiny fists around some flowers, almond eyes watching the stream ripple in waves, the one that stood between their garden and the forest. Her hair held a yellow ribbon, that damned ribbon that reminded him so much of Cristòfol that for a second he thought he had forgotten how to breathe.

She moved closer into his side, shifting her white, now mud-stained dress. She looked up at him with those wide, innocent eyes that you could only find on a child who had nothing to fear because they were with someone that they loved, and who loved them back.

"'Ze?" She asked, and suddenly he had a hard time looking her in the eyes. The hand that was in her smooth black hair slowed, and he breathed in for a few seconds, wishing that tight feeling in his chest would just go away.

"Yes, Luca?" He asked, hoping that his voice didn't seem as shaky as it felt.

"When will Papa and 'Fol be home?"

His heart broke, having to be the one to tell her. How could he tell her that they were gone? That they were never coming back home? How could he tell little Lucia-Claire that her big brother, who always played the fool and told her silly stories about a princess and her knights in shining armour, who always saved her from whatever evil they thought of, or the one who gave her badger rides when her legs got tired, wouldn't be there to tell her any stories anymore? Or how their father who always bounced her on his knee, who tucked her in with a kiss to the forehead and a stupid joke that never failed to make her laugh, who helped her learn how to talk in both English and Spanish wouldn't be able to help her when she messed up a word and stuttered something completely different or got a headache from trying to remember everything?

He lifted her up onto his lap, wrapping her in a hug, his head resting on top of hers as his shoulder shook, the tears he tried so desperately to hold back welling up in his eyes until they couldn't be held back anymore.

"Papa and 'Fol aren't coming home anymore, Luca. T-They're gone." His voice shook despite his attempt to steady it, and he suddenly wished that his mother would finally leave her room and give her the warm hugs that always helped brighten their day whenever everything had been stressful to them. Or come and make them Coca masegada, like their grandmother used to whenever they would come over to her house to see her cute Italian Greyhound, Polux.

He didn't think his little sister understood the situation, not really, but that was fine with him. Her hands, still holding the flowers that mixed together as pink carnations and purple hyacinth in one of her tiny fists, now clutched onto his shirt. She buried her face in his chest, allowing herself to cry too, for the reasons that she couldn't understand, but somehow knowing that it was time to. But that was okay.

"Why they leave?" She asked him, but he didn't have an answer for her, and perhaps that's what hurt him the most.

"We do something wrong?" She asked again, after a few moments of silence from her brother. Quirze shook his head, turning her around to look her in the eyes.

"Of course we didn't, Luca. These things just...happen." He finished lamely. She just gave him a look that he realized matched their fathers perfectly when he knew they did something and lied terribly about it. Spooky.

"...I bad girl?" Her voice seemed to crack slightly at the sheer thought of it being her fault that their Papa and brother was gone.

"No! No, you've been a very good girl. I promise you, Luca, they didn't leave because of you." He was quick to deny her claim, but he personally wasn't sure if it was working.

He promised to himself and silently to her, too, that he would never leave her. He would be there for her, to tell her stories. To teach her about the world, and to tuck her into bed at night. He may not be his brother, or their father, but he would be enough. He had to, no matter what it might cost him.

He didn't speak, and pulled her closer when she asked him, her voice laced with worry, if he was going to leave them, like Papa and Fol, but he felt like she understood anyways.

They watched the sky that was draped with thick clouds and turning into streaks of gold and orange in silent. When it got too cold and she shivered, he rose with her in his arms, and let her place the flowers she had gathered down on a patch of stone by the stream bank. Her head laid against his chest, as she listened to his heartbeat.

And when he laid her down to sleep that night, and he kissed her forehead like their father used to, his heart swelled warmly as he heard her whispered 'Love you, Ze.'

"I love you too, mi querida hermana." He finally smiled, pale gold eyes softening upon seeing her quietly curl up with her brown teddy bear underneath cream blankets.