Fear | K.th [Editing]

Red Rag [73°]

Emilio gulps as he stares at the barrel of a gun pointed in between his eyes, arm held up with a bouquet of flowers in his grasp; almost running into her after repeatedly slamming his fist against the front door to her cottage out in the country side of Florence—until she swung the door open, resulting in him losing his balance and coming face to face with a 9 mm.

She keeps her arm extended, gaze slit as she scowls at the male in front of her. She thought she was done with ever seeing him again after last week, spending the night at his house and leaving during dawn. Now, as she cocks her gun and glares back at Emilio who was trembling in his stance, she wonders how he managed to trace her back to where they both stand presently.

"Tell me how the fuck you found me before I put a bullet in between your eyes."

He puts both of his hands up and kindly asks her to lower the gun. She tells him no. "I got Amadeo to help me learn about you, he managed to track where you lived and—"

"You better have a good reason as to why I shouldn't blow your brains out where you stand, Emilio."

"Because, I like you." He flinches when she shifts in her stance.

"You don't even know me."

Emilio shrugs, "But, I would like to if you gave me the chance." He glances down and that's when he realizes the copious amount of blood splattered on her. "Why—why are you covered in blood?"

She lowers her gaze onto the red scarlet painted onto her skin and soaked into her clothes. Then she's frowning and next thing Emilio knows; he's being dragged into her home. He stumbles inside as she slams the door behind her.

Emilio turns around to peer at the shorter female, fixing his clothing. He hears her scoff before she meets his gaze. "You're obsessed with me." She feigns, wiping the blood from her cheek.

He smiles sheepishly, "I wouldn't necessarily call it an obsession--rather, an infatuation."

"I know you follow me every time I leave your house." She concedes, narrowing her eyes.

Not being able to respond, he hands her the flowers he had bought for her. "I got you roses." She grabs them from him and drops the red roses by her feet before picking up her leg and stomping on the flowers, all while keeping eye contact with him. He glances down, swallowing. "Did I mess up?"

"I hate roses."

"Let me guess; something that has to do with your past?"

She smirks, pulling out a knife from somewhere and stabbing it into a wooden table beside her before pushing past him. She grabs the remote laying in the couch and turns on the tv as she makes her way into the kitchen. "Something tells me you're not leaving here until you get whatever it is you came here for, assuming by the briefcase in your left hand."

Emilio crouches down to pick up all the crumbled roses he could, standing back up to follow her into the kitchen. Emilio looks around on his way there; noting how everything looks neat and--almost like there hasn't been anybody around to wear down the furniture. He quirks an eyebrow, "Are you rarely home?"

She shrugs in response, searching through her fridge for something to eat.

"Don't you...have any family—"

"Why," Her voice rises, turning toward him with an apple in her grasp. "is it any of your concern?"

"I'm just worried—you live in this big house all by your lonesome?" He questions.

She stares at him with annoyance; she knew letting him inside would lead to this; him being nosy and asking any question that comes to mind; she knew this, yet still allowed him inside--and now she regrets ever doing so.