ᅟᅟ

you're ... literally the love of my life ... please ,
          always remember that .

memories of crimson staining his hands and he doesn't feel like himself; hasn't been feeling like himself. lately, it almost feels like he's been running on autopilot. he doesn't tell her that; instead, he moves to lean his head back just to face her, look her square in the eye just to feel anything. something.
          
          he hopes her face alone sparks a feeling out of his numb skin.
          
          "work was shit." is what he settled with, nose all scrunched up. "who the hell even does paperwork for killing bastards?"
          
          an afterthought, but nothing he expected her to answer. he just. feels safe. it's safe here. no one is after him. no one is gonna hurt him. no one is gonna hurt / them /. "hope taking care of lucy wasn't too much while i was gone." a few days without him should be fine, but anna was a working student and a single mother - or well, not really single. but whatever. it was still a lot to handle on her own.
          
          "are you okay? you look a little pale." he plants a kiss by her collarbone, trailing more along her jaw. "are you sick?"
          
          ﹕@sickinglysweet- 

it's late. he knows that. his mind tries to remind him he hasn't been home for a while. he knows that too. he just hasn't been able to catch up with himself. with his thoughts. with his body. with everything around him. it's all too much. too much.
          
          he rubs his eyes in the hopes his racing thoughts could stop. he just wants to sleep. "you're still up?" he strides in the living room, slipping off his shoes and dropping on the couch; boneless, tired. he's so tired. he wants to sleep. "why are you still up?" he tries to shift and crawl himself on top of her, nuzzling his face by her neck to hide himself from the world.
          
          it's safe here. he's safe here. she's here.
          
          it's what he reminds himself, relaxing beside her; letting the world outside run its course while time stopped here with her.
          
          ﹕@sickinglysweet- 

you happy with yourself?

Cello!! Cello!! Up! Up!

﹝he was / not / making any face. no. he wasn't. but bucciarati, the ever spontaneous, the ever kind, the ever damn patient lover of his, finds it in her to call him out for such ridiculous claims, and no. he wasn't looking away and avoiding her gaze yet again because she's right. he's avoiding her gaze because he / felt like it. / 
          
          how does she make it so effortless to stick by his side like he wasn't just about ready to sprout a line of curses that wouldn't be child-friendly or that he wasn't ready to throw another fit. he doesn't know. he doesn't want to know just how far that patience goes, so instead he takes another deep breath, sighs and looks at her ( he can't stop. he'll always find his way back to staring because bucciarati / always / had a way of pulling him back. ) seemingly calmer than he was just a few minutes ago.﹞
          
          fine. just. don't give me the task of cutting or slicing things because i might just stab anyone. 
          
          ﹕@ventocapo 

: i definitely / didn't / miss this HAKDJFLEJ

﹝he didn't need help. that's what he's been telling himself for the past few minutes he'd struggled to keep all this shit in check. bucciarati was busy and god fucking dammit. fine. fucking fine. this was / not / easy. he did need help. but he's not - he's not gonna ask for it now. not when he's already gotten this far. not when -
          
          when he fell, marcello can only take in deep breaths through his nose. all of this was / dumb. / humiliation flooded him in shades of pink turning close to red and he pointedly avoided bucciarati's gaze because he / knew / she found this amusing.
          
          he doesn't answer her, and instead pushes off everything from him and glares at the nearest object; like a petulant child falling off the monkey bars when they've already been told to be careful. ( that's fucking different! but whatever. ) he huffs, before lifting his gaze to meet her gleeful ones.﹞ quit it. i can / tell / you're laughing at me.
          
          ﹕@ventocapo 

/ KSHDJSJDJD— IT’S HIS FAULT FOR FALLING FOR A SILVER FOX ITALIAN GUY 

// NAH BRO NAH