Pandemonium

“Is there something wrong, YN?”

His low voice wakes you up from an uncomfortable slumber on the desk of your room.
“N-No no… ah sorry, didn’t hear you coming, capo” you force a smile, as you raise your head buried in your arms resting on the hardwood.
“I knocked at your door, but you didn’t reply…” he states, a concerned shade in his steady voice.
“Sorry, I fell asleep, capo…” you explain, stretching your sore arms in the air, making some joints crack from the aching position you were in, before turning your whole body to face him, still sitting at the chair.
“Hmm…”- he hums, almost absently- “why didn't you join lunch with us? The boys were asking about you…” he walks inside your room, checking on the general condition: unluckily your room is pretty untidy at the moment, dirty clothes scattered here and there on the floor, clean clothes just recumbent on your bed or on the chairs, papers everywhere.
“Lunch? Is it already lunchtime?” you ask, another yawn escapes your mouth.
“It’s 5 pm, actually…”- Risotto groans, as he picks up from the carpet an empty fruit juice carton and walks towards you- “I’ve never seen you being this messy, YN” his eyes are locked with yours, he’s trying to read your mind again. You only feel embarrassment, your capo picking up your trash? Are you kidding? That goes beyond shame.
“Oh, I must have overslept… s-sorry capo, my fault. I will clean my room as soon as possible!” you stammer your apologizes, in front of his standing and imposing figure; while other people have always had a natural inclination to fear this man, to you he has always been kind, and you have never felt truly frightened by him. What you feel towards him is something more like respect and admiration, so for him to see your bio-hazard of a bedroom is pretty… humiliating. You don’t want to disappoint the only man who has believed in you since the beginning, where others have doubted your ability.
“Are you eating properly, YN?” he asks firmly, as he kneels again on the floor to grasp old envelopes of junky snacks scattered all over the place.
You look at him filled with guilt and mortification, and gulp before speaking: “... no, actually… I’m having some troubles with my appetite…”
“Since when?” he comes closer to you, even if he’s knelt on the ground, now he is at the same height as you, his pupils darting into yours.
“A… week?”
“And why didn’t you tell me, YN?” his hand gently grabs your forearm making you shiver.
“You have a lot of important business, capo… it’s not something import-”
The vice at your forearm tightens.
“Never say that again” he electrocutes you only with his gaze.
“B-But!” you try to say something back, but his “No” is too imperious it makes you shut and shiver.
“What was the trigger this time?”
You lower your eyes, already pretty wet, trying to remember something, though it’s hard.
“Probably Illuso…”- you sigh, giving your back to Risotto, pretending to fumble with a pencil on the empty papers of your desk, since you’re about to cry after days and days of apathy.
“What did he do, this time?” he huffs exasperated, putting a hand on your shoulder in search of eye contact. His touch is firm, yet gentle.
“He said mean stuff last time I was eating with the boys…” you jabber, sniffling your nose.
“What did he say…?”
“Uh… stuff…” you shrug, trying your best to not meet his inquisitive gaze.
“Won’t you be more precise, Y/N?”
“...he made comments on how much I ate at lunch and how all that pasta would have gone to my hips, ok?!” you suddenly turn your head towards him, cheeks and eyes reddened and humid.
“...got it”- he exhales after a brief pause, and moves at your side, reaching one hand to cup your cheek and make your head turn towards him- “Y/N, it’s not up to him telling you how much you can eat, you know?”
You weakly rest your face on his large and warm hand, closing your eyes to enjoy the gentle contact: “but he mocks me… and laughs at me, and the others laugh too…”
“I know, he behaves like that with everyone, even with me… it’s his way to bond, I suppose” Risotto explains, his calloused fingers rubbing your soft skin.
“W-What? What did he say to you?” you gasp in surprise, you thought Illuso would only bully people smaller than him.
“One day I messed up the plan of a mission, it happened years ago, and he called me ‘tantu si longu, quantu si fessa’, and he was serious” the tall man chuckles, amused by the memory, that the dimples at the sides of his mouth deepens, making him absolutely adorable.
“What does it mean?” you ask confused, as you focus on the beauty of his genuine smile.
“Ah, in his dialect it means something like ‘you are as stupid as you are tall’, and in that occasion he was right, I was careless” his hand slides to your hair, caressing it.
“Uh… but you’re not stupid, Capo, you are probably… o-one of the smartest men I’ve ever met!” you say what you think, even if it’s embarrassing to be a few inches from his face and pronounce that compliment. He smiles again, and that warms your heart.
“Thank you… and you’re one of the smartest boy I’ve ever seen, so… please, don’t let his insults hurt you, you are more than this, will you?”
You gulp, the knot tightening in your throat as you nod.
“Good boy. You should go talk to him, in private, when no one is around, and clarify that you don’t like his comments about the way you eat or your body, ok? He probably thinks he’s funny, that’s it” he pats your shoulder, as he gets up and stretches his back.
“But… but what if he laughs at my face, calling me a snowflake?” you grab him by his coat, slightly pulling him back, you don’t want him to leave so soon.
“Oh?” - he turns at you, and glances you a smirk- “in that case, I allow you to put the shaving cream in his favorite shampoo, Y/N”
You both cackle at his proposal, but he turns cold sober a few seconds after “anyway, I left some of my lunch for you, there is a steak on the kitchen table, feel free to eat it, ok?”
“Uh? Haven’t you finished it, Capo?”
“No, I had some nice tidbits this morning, didn’t have much appetite, you can have it all” he assures you, as he walks toward the door.
“B-But, is there someone in the kitchen…?” you get up, following him behind.
“Yeah, there’s Prosciutto cleaning some weapons, there’s also Formaggio watching TV, and probably Pesci too…”
“Uh…”- the thought of the rare steak made your mouth water, since you’ve spent the last week nibbling some junk snacks that tasted like sweet trash- “never mind…” but not worth, eating with the boys looking at you, after you’ve skipped so many meals, would only drag unwanted comments, and that would clench your stomach again.
“No?” he leans over you, trying to understand your discomfort.
“N-Not hungry anymore, I s-suppose, heh…” you sheepishly smile, looking at an empty can at your feet, before kicking it away.
“I think the problem is another one… am I right?” he keeps staring at you, he expects you to tell him the truth again, of course.
“Uh…” you shyly raise your gaze.
“Got it. Wait”.
He walks away and disappears in the corner of the stairs, and you wait patiently, sitting on the chair.
This man is the embodiment of the word “patience”, sometimes you think you don’t deserve his comprehension, you never did anything special, apart from trying to do your best during the missions and be loyal to La Squadra, but this is the bare minimum, right? Maybe he acts like this because you’re new, and you look almost innocent compared to the other mates? Like, the only element that brings some light in this dark environment? You really don’t know.
Risotto is back in a few minutes, carrying in his hands a tray with a piece of meat and a glass of water- “here, help yourself”- he murmurs, as he places the plate on your desk.
“T-Thank you…” you stammer, he managed to read into your thoughts again, as you impugn fork and knife and start to cut the bone from the flesh.
“Y/N…”- you were about to put the first morsel to your mouth when him calling your name interrupted you- “before you eat, I want to clarify something”
“Oh, sure! What is it?” you put back the crockery, turning your face and body to focus on him.
“Well, Y/N…” he sits on your bed in front of you, shifting the sundries from the mattress to have more space - “for today, I’m closing an eye, but I don’t like this attitude, I don’t want you to bottle up and close yourself away from the others, especially when it comes to meal time”
“Uh…” you listen carefully, nodding at his every word; you know yours is not a nice behavior.
“Also, your room is a mess, and the last thing I want here is a cockroaches invasion” he coughs, darting his pupils toward food leftovers on the floor, already assaulted by tiny ants.
Your face becomes as crimson as a ripped tomato, you’d like to bury yourself in a 3 meters deep dig at this moment.
“So, after you finish your steak, I want you to clean this place, is it too much to ask?” he bends forward, elbows on his knees, to give a deeper stare at your embarrassed figure.
“No no, Capo… you’re absolutely right, I’ll throw away all of this trash, do my laundry, clean the floor and change my bedsheets!” you swear, with your hand on your heart- “for tonight this room will shine, I promise!”
“Good boy, excellent” he nods proudly at you, making you blush even more; you really love being called like that by him, it makes you feel butterflies in your belly.
“And huh… about the lunchtime together, Capo? What do you expect me to do…?” you ask shrinking, it’s not something you would look forward to doing.
“My dear Y/N, you know that lunchtime is not just swallowing food and filling your stomach…”- he starts explaining, patting the side of the bed next to him, he wants you to be close to him, and you obey, mesmerized by his gaze, stern yet at the same time fatherly- “it’s a precious moment, we also use for bonding together, sharing thoughts, getting closer to each other, we are all equals at the table, sharing the same bread, and isolating yourself is a clear message that you really don’t want to connect with them. And you know how much it is important to be close-knit with your mates, don’t you?” His hand rests on your shoulder, slowly sliding down your spine, sending shivers all along your backbone, his fierce look trespassing your soul.
“I’m sorry… I know it’s a fundamental moment for the Squadra, but… it’s not easy for me to stand there, ok?” You clench your hands on your lap, squeezing your knees together, in fear you may disappoint him.
“It’s ok, Y/N… tell me, what do you find most difficult about it? Is it the noise? The bickering?” his now calm tone soothes you, as his hand caresses your skin.
“Y-Yeah too much noise… and… I get nervous, my stomach closes, and huh… I feel anxiety, and when I am anxious I end up throwing up, that’s it, Capo” you gulp and close your eyelids, it’s not easy to explain how you feel when the noises around you send you into a sensory overload, making you nervous, distressed, even leading to a panic attack in some circumstances.
“Understood…”- he exhales, tilting his head as he observes you- “we can try to explain this to them, ok?”
“No, Capo, no!” you shake your head, stubborn.
“Why? They may change and be more quiet, it’s worth a try, Y/N…”
“No! They will only make fun of me! Please don’t tell them that, they would even take advantage of it and make me panic on purpose! Please capo!” you hiccup imploring him with folded hands, as if you were asking for a grace to a Saint.
“Calm down, Y/N, calm down…”- he shushes you, tugging you close to him, your face pressed on his chest, choking your hiccoughs in the rough fabric of his cloak- “it’s ok, I swear I won’t allow them to make fun of you for this, and we don’t have to go into details, right? Hush, hush…”
You slowly calm down in his hug, his hand running through your wild hair helps you regularize your heart-beat, and you gradually stop hiccuping.
“W-Will you really help me, Capo?” you find the courage to raise your wet eyes at him, locking gaze with his crimson irises.
“Sure I will, you’re precious to me, and I don’t want you to be distressed, I want to help you to get conscious of how powerful and exceptional you are…” he gently speaks, cleaning the tears off your cheekbones- “since it seems you tend to underestimate yourself, mio caro…” you freeze in place, too thrilled, as he places a kiss on your forehead; your heart hammers so violently against your sternum it could actually break it, since the emotions you’re experiencing are so strong.
“T-Thank you Capo…” fantastic, you’re in tears again.
“It’s the bare minimum for you, YN…” the man gets up from the bed and adjusts his coat, while you’re still mesmerized by his kindness and admire his body.
“Ah, YN…”- you tilt your head at him, you want him to stay a little bit with you- “tonight there’s the final match on TV, remember?”
“Uh?” you’re not really a fan of soccer, so you don’t give much importance to the national team playing for the cup.
“I know you don’t like it, so, I won’t ask you to come and watch it with us, I just wanted to warn you…” he explains, frowning concerned at you.
“...warn?”
“Hm hm, if Italia wins, they will celebrate the whole night, with fireworks, gunshots, klaxon… all the stuff you can’t stand, so, please, don’t go out tonight, ok?”
Oh shit. Your eyes widen in surprise and your jaw almost drops to the ground. He’s right, it will be even worse than the New Year celebrations! People will yell in the road, vandalize the streets, blow up dangerous and illegal crackles… the last thing you want to hear is the sirens of the ambulances called here and there to help people who got injured by a bullet or illegal explosives. No way!
“No way Capo! No way! And what about you? And the boys? Will you celebrate at home?” you get up to be closer to him, at this moment you’d pay for another one of his hugs.
“Unfortunately no, YN… we have been invited to watch the match with other gangs of Passione, it’s an important event, you know…”
The world has fallen on you, new tears adorn your face.
“And… I have to come with you, right?”
“No, no… since I knew you are not a fan of it, I told them that you were under punishment, so you couldn’t have come to the party. Did I say the right thing, YN?”
God. You love this man. You’d hug him and kiss him on the lips right now, he basically has spared you from a mental breakdown.
“Y-Yes, Capo… I’d rather stay home, and … I’m under punishment, right? I mean, I have to clean this.. it’s fair”
“Ah, I’m glad… “ he sighs in relief- “so, YN… enjoy your steak and do what you can, we’ll be back after the match” he greets you with a smile, but before he parts, you launch yourself to grab his hand, forcing him to turn at you almost worried “anything else, YN?” he questions in a neutral tone.
“Can I… uh…” damn, you shouldn’t have done this, shit, shit, you’re stuttering again- “a last...hug? Please, Capo…”
He doesn’t reply. He just leans over you and gives you the most tender and affectionate hug you’ve ever received in your entire life, followed by a chaste kiss on your forehead. You are over the moon, your heart is going to burst!
“Just call me Risotto, Y/N… no need to be so formal like this, ok?” he murmurs sweetly, shifting some strands of hair away from your humid eyes.
“O-Ok, thank you, Risotto… enjoy the match, I’ll wait for you!” you smile, reassured, as you both disentangle the hug.
“I’ll try. Stay safe, YN”.
You watch him walk away. Now you’re pretty sure you’ve fallen in love with your capo. Maybe in a platonic way, maybe not, you only know that your heart goes crazy when he’s near you, and you want to be held by his strong arms and cuddled by his calloused hands, while he slobbers compliments over you. A dream.
Now in a better mood, you quietly consume his offer, enjoying each morsel, thinking of him. You spend the whole evening cleaning your own mess, you even lose track of time. You have filled at least two bins of trash, consumed liters and liters of bleach to disinfect the whole room, get rid of all the insects, changed the bed with new fresh sheets, and put in the washing machine the old sweated sheets. You’re tired, of course, but satisfied with your work, and you can’t wait for Risotto to be back to you and praise your excellent chores. You did amazing, you deserve a nice warm bath now! And since no one is around, you can take all the time you need to relax, no one is going to knock on the bathroom door, fantastic!
You grab your clean towel and you walk to the bathroom, it’s already 8.30pm, the match will start in no time. Risotto must be having dinner with other Capi, you hope his meal is delicious and abundant, so he’ll save some leftovers and bring them for you, like he always does. Maybe an insalata di mare, or spaghetti allo scoglio, even the dessert if it’s possible!
As the bathtub gets filled with water, you head to the kitchen, working that hard made you thirsty; you open the fridge, and the first thing you see is a bowl, covered with cellophane, with a post-it attached on top: “Per Y/N: ricordati di mangiare anche la frutta, hai bisogno di vitamine e fibre. Mantieniti idratato” (For Y/N: remember to eat fruit too, you need vitamins and fibers. Stay hydrated). You read the message in your mind, with his voice, and you almost cry again, he is so precious, he really cares about you, every aspect of you, even more than a nonna (grandma).
“Thank you…” you whisper, as you uncover the content of the bowl: wedges of Sicilian oranges, kiwi and banana. Ah, he must have been even concerned for your bowels if he added the kiwi… you chuckle, a bit embarrassed yet tenderized by his thoughtfulness, then you grab a fork, some water, and go back to the bathroom, where the tub is ready.
This time you’re too exhausted to even blink at the thought of having another dysphoria paranoia, so you just undress, throw the dirty clothes in the basket, and sit in the warm water, eating your well deserved dinner. The fresh fruit tastes even better after days of junk food, and just the thought that Risotto has carefully peeled and cut it, makes you want to leave not even a single piece. He took some of his time to do that, despite being a busy man, you don’t want to waste his effort; furthermore, he praises you every time you manage to finish a complete meal, so you can’t wait to tell him you ate it all.
Once finished, you drink two glasses of fresh water and put the crockery aside, time to lather up your hair and skin.
It’s when you’re massaging your scalp, that you hear some men yelling “GOAL!!” from outside; oh shit, the match! Already an hour has passed! You hurry up to wash yourself from the soap and, once done, you wrap the large towel around your body, pick up the crockery and run down the stairs; here, you turn on the TV on the first channel, and as you expected, the score is 1-0 for Italy. They are winning, it seems. You should be happy, no? Your nation will win the cup! But you prefer it to lose, rather than having to endure the whole celebration night, at this point. You feel awful, they would tear apart your Italian citizenship if they knew. Formaggio and Illuso would insult you for the rest of your life, not to mention Ghiaccio! You don’t hate him, he just has that natural scratchy voice that literally hurts your eardrums, it’s not his fault for this, but you wish he could have a little more self-control over everyday problems. Melone? He probably wouldn’t care, since he is half-French, he would cheer on the enemy team just to send Ghiaccio berserk, apparently he finds it amusing. Prosciutto would probably call you a “traitor”, as if he knew shit about soccer! He just watches the finals and threatens Pesci to never ever cheer on Lazio, only for Roma Team.
Risotto doesn’t really care about the match or the winner, he just wants to spend a relaxing night in front of TV with his whole Squadra, eating and drinking together, another way to “bond”, he says.
Another “GOAL!” reverberates in the streets outside; at this point, with less than 10 minutes to the end, the victory is a guarantee, you can already hear the annoying stadium trumpets.
You start to hyperventilate, adrenaline rushing all over your body, heart pounding faster and faster. Calm down, you have to find a solution before the situation collapses!
Headphones! You could put on the special headphones Risotto has bought for you, to protect you from the rumble of the gunshots during missions! They could definitely isolate you from all the sounds! Where did you put them last time…? Ah, sure, in the car, after the last mission. Prosciutto always mocks you for that, telling you that you’re even worse than Pesci when it comes to guns. But luckily Risotto took your side, telling him that you can perfectly work with your Stand and blades only. You smile as you head toward the garage, hopping the steps two at a time, trying not to drop your towel...oh… wait… they took the car! They took the car to go to the event! Fanculo (fuck!)
Then, there isn’t much you can do. You run back to your room, close the window, the roller shutter, the door (even if it makes no sense, but with the panic rising you can’t really reason properly), you grab a pillow and launch yourself under the bed, hiding your head under it.
The pandemonium starts.
Fireworks, car klaxons, firecrackers, scared animals howling and barking from their terraces, men, women, even kids, yelling from the bottom of their lungs, trumpets… you feel as if you were in the middle of a war, bombs exploding under your balcony, glasses trembling near the breaking point. You cover your ears as you can, but the uproar is simply too much, and it will last the whole night. People are flowing in the main streets, blocking the traffic, so no way your mates are coming back soon. You don’t care about them, you just want Risotto.
There is nothing that could soothe you in this terrible moment, you’re whimpering like a scared puppy, in an endless panic attack that will leave your eyes without tears; you even try to dissociate yourself, but nothing works. You won’t get out of this burrow alive, or with your mental sanity still intact.
“Y/N? Are you here?”
Oh god, you hear voices now! You’re literally losing your mind!
“Are you under the bed?”
The voice sounds… familiar? You can’t really tell, it’s probably a trick played by your messed brain.
“Ah, povero tesoro, must be scared…”
“Shut the fuck up!” you yell, your voice cracks in hiccups, as you retreat even more, your back is now against the wall, your arms locking your head in the pillow, your legs start kicking aimlessly, as if you were chasing away an enemy.
“It’s ok, Y/N, I know you’re frightened right now, but I’m here to help you, ok?”- the man, not without struggling since his height, lowers himself to the ground level, peeking under the bed - “here you are, oh, poor thing, you’re so terrorized…” he whispers concerned, that won’t be easy to take you out there without getting a vigorous kick to his face; he knows how dangerous and powerful can be a person under life-threatening conditions and panic.
“Alright, Y/N, I know it’s noisy, but I need you to calm down and stop fussing, you’re making things worse like this… you don’t want to hurt your Capo, do you?”
Your… Capo? Oh, this voice… this voice that gleams among the infernal disquietude, it must be him, it must be Risotto. Your convulsive movements slowly squander, as you try to listen to him over the pounding sound of your delirious heart.
“Good boy, good, calm down…”- his tone is calm and steady, encouraging you- “I’ll protect you, Y/N… can you grab my hand, now?”
You disclose one of your eyes, carefully, focusing on an arm, outstretched towards you, his unmistakable hand trying to reach yours.
“R-Risotto…”- you weep, almost choking on your own hiccups, as your trembling fingers brush his- “I’m scared, p-please don’t let me alone!”
“Never, Y/N, never… here, trust me, I’ll bring you to a safe place, ok?” his hand clenches securely around your wrist, pulling you out of the lair. He loses no time to wrap your naked and shaking body in your disheveled towel and keep it close to his chest. You dig your face in his cleavage, and keep sobbing, your fingers clawing at his cloak.
“It’s ok, hush, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone, forgive me Y/N, I was careless” he holds you tight, while climbing up the stairs to his private bedroom, one of his hands behind your head gently stroking your nape.
A door locks behind you, and… all of sudden, it’s not that noisy anymore; Risotto gently places you to sit on the edge of a king-sized bed, then he shifts to close the shade of his window, bright fireworks still exploding in the dark sky, but the uproar is muffled, almost quite.
“Uh? W-What happened? Have they stopped…?” you ask confused, your body barely covered by the cloth just leaning on your shoulders, but at the moment you don’t care you’re completely exposed to his eyes, too astonished by the situation.
“No, Y/N, and they won’t stop till tomorrow morning, probably…”- he walks back to you, a reassuring smile of relief on his lips- “my room is soundproof, that’s it, so I thought it would be a good idea to keep you here” he explains tenderly.
So… is this his bedroom? You’ve never been here, no one is allowed to enter his room, that must be an honor.
“...t-thank you Risotto” you manage to speak, while he kneels in front of you and helps you cover yourself with the towel, gently, he touches you without malice at all.
“Here… don’t get cold, ok? You can sleep here for tonight, I saw you did an amazing cleaning, you deserve to sleep as much as you need, ok Y/N?” he praises you, and kisses you on the forehead.
“Y-Yeah… a-and thanks for the fruit! It was very good, and I ate it all!” you inform him with a smile, finally you can relax, far from the chaos.
“Oh you did? I’m proud of you, tesoro” he blesses you with another kiss, then gets up on his feet, heading toward the door- “so, buonanotte(goodnight) Y/N, sogni d’oro(have nice dreams)” he is about to leave, but you yell “wait!”, blocking him at the entrance.
“Hm? Do you need something Y/N?” he turns at you, confused.
“You… where are you going to sleep, Risotto? This is your bed!” you ask worried, crawling on the mattress to reach him.
“On the sofa, why? The bed, it’s all for you, don’t worry” he reassures you by caressing your chin, but you shake your head.
“Not fair, Risotto, you won’t be able to sleep properly!” you pout, frowning at him.
“It doesn’t matter, I want you to sleep peacefully…”
“Sleep with me, then… t-there’s enough room for both” your face is again crimson red… how could you…?
“...would you allow me to lie down and sleep next to you, Y/N?” his face turns stern, as he bites his lower lip.
“I… I want you to sleep with me, Risotto… please…” you get on your knees to grab his collar and pull him closer to you, face to face- “please, I’m still scared, don’t leave me alone, Risotto… I want you beside me, I want to feel your strong and warm arms around my body… please…”
He listens to your plea attentively, blinking a few times, to metabolize what you’ve just said.
“...are you sure, Y/N? Won’t that make you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head, and you resist the urge to grab his face and kiss those thick lips of his: “no, I’m yearning for this… please sleep with me, hold me tight, protect me…”
The man hums for a few seconds, before nodding, with a smile, and kisses the tip of your nose: “fine, Y/N, I’ll sleep with you… if that makes you happy”
You squeak in happiness as you throw your arms around his neck, and he lifts you by the hips, keeping you at his same height to be able to sweetly nuzzle you, and you hug him tight, whispering imperceptible lovely words to him; then he sets you under the soft blankets to keep you warm, while he proceeds to undress himself, till he’s just in his striped boxer: “still awake, Y/N?” he gently murmurs, as he shifts the sheets to make his way in the bed, next to you.
“Y-Yeah… and uh… so now we are the champions, right?”
“Probably, I didn’t really follow the match”- he chuckles, then spoons you, your gaunt body perfectly fitting the crook of his stomach- “but the boys had fun, and the food was amazing, I didn’t forget to bring some leftovers for you”
“Ah! What did you bring?” you giggle excited, turning to face him, your hands on his bare chest.
“A whole lobster and some cassata, all for you” he says delightedly, as he rests his chin on your head, hugging you tight, his hands caressing your back and hip bone.
“Oh, my favorite! T-Thanks, I t-think I love you, Risotto!” your voice screeches, unable to contain the joy of the moment.
“I know, Y/N, and I love you too…” his fingers lift your jaw, so you can lock eyes with him, and his crimson-charcoal eyes are the last thing you see, before your lips interweave together, in a deep, soft, long craved kiss, forcing your eyelids to close shut. You keep kissing for minutes, maybe hours, interspersed by visceral suspires and delicate words, your bodies now attached in a delightful embrace, till the only thing you can hear is his breath on your neck, that soothes your soul until you fall asleep in his arms, the chaotic shambles only a distant memory.