meraki's journal

❀ ❝everybody loves somebody❞ ❀

au :: mafia
tw :: mentions of guns, blood, vulgar language, death, violence/gore

everybody loves somebody sometime

stepping down the inclined steps of the hall, walking elegantly down the left stairwell, came a father-son duo. cyrus was an only child - the only son. in celebration of his father's birthday; they were blessed with a ball. classical music played live by an orchestra down one side of the hall as alliances dressed in big dresses and fine tuxedos. the chatter fell to a near silence as the duo reached the platform where the stairs go down to the floor. workers in waiter attire bring plates of small desserts and drinks to each and every attendant.

everybody falls in love somehow

cyrus' father looked around at the guests with a smile across his face. he began to chatter about how good his life was. cyrus stood beside him with poise; adjusting the blazer of his suit. eighteen-year-old cyrus was his fathers reason for living, said his father during this speech.
"because of him; i have been more careful with my actions. because of him, i am afraid of death."
after the old man rambled, his father draped an arm around cyrus - lifting his glass as his speech came to an end. the wine fizzed as he called out;
"to life!"

"to life!" the attendants echoed aftr him, raising their glasses up. clinking was heard, and in almost complete unison, they sipped the contents of their glass respectfully.
"to life.." muttered cyrus, whom was feeling a bit odd placement wise. 

something in your kiss just told me, that sometime is now

cyrus and his father continued down the steps to the floor where the guests were. cyrus was the youngest there, and was unsure what he'd do for the remainder of the ball. as his father strayed off to talk with some of the attendees, cyrus really took the hall in. where they were was considered the "main area". marble floors and walls engraved with statues like greek temples. a luxurious chandelier bigger than him hung from the enormous ceiling, lights of tinted yellow. the corridors held expensive paintings not many could get their hands on; and yet, they belonged to his family.

everybody finds somebody someplace

he felt a small weight on his shoulder and the presence of another. his head turned as the voice was speaking to him;

"ya got stars in your eyes, kid," a thick newyorker accent rung his ears and the appearance of a slightly older, black haired lady with her curly locks up in an elegant bun covered his vision.

"hiya, auntie," cyrus smiled respectfully, and bowed his head with a greeting.

"oh, please," she clicks her tongue and flicks her wrist, "you make me sound so old!" she scoffs, tapping her face, as if checking for wrinkles. there were none - she looked young. there were no wrinkles, her skin was smooth and her makeup looked effortless. "you kids really don't gotta be so formal, y'know. it's not like we're some royal monarchy. ya fatha' just sells drugs and shoots a few people and suddenly y'all treat me like the queen of england."
she's laughing, but cyrus doesn't react at first. he nervously laughs along.

"do you think ya fatha will ever truly appreciate what he has? i mean, look at this place! it's like a goddamn castle in this sonofabitch!" her arms out stretch as she looks around the hall.

"not until it's gone." cyrus assumes with a light laugh, and she laughs with him. 

there's no telling where love may appear