His Flower [DISCONTINUED]

48: Last Words

The morning air was chilly and crisp. After a little while apart from Antonio, I decided to come outside and check up on him. As I lingered behind the wooden bench he sat on, the sound of his deep and smooth voice caused me to jump.

"How long do you plan on standing there?"

I slowly blinked. "How did you even know I was there?"

He turned around to glance at me with a smirk. "You walk with a certain skip in your step."

"I do not," I disagreed.

"You do."

"Well great," I finally plopped down next to him. "Now I'll think I look like a bunny when I walk."

"You do," he jokingly mused. "I mean, you've certainly got the height and the hop."

I laughed in disbelief and smacked his shoulder. "You're the meanest boyfriend I've ever had!"

"I'm the only boyfriend you've ever had, Flower," he slyly grinned, ruffling my brown hair.

I playfully rolled my eyes and fixed my curls before glancing back at him. The smile slowly slipped off his face after a few seconds, and he gazed off at the parking lot.

"Y'know, at times when I'm stressed out like this, I usually smoke."

I gently sighed and looked up. "Well, are you gonna smoke?"

"Nah," he replied without missing a beat. "A certain someone made me realize I should quit."

I shyly smiled. While I'd noticed that he'd quit his smoking habit for quite some time, I hadn't realized that he'd done it because of me.

"Did you talk to her, Flower?"

I paused at his abrupt question and curiously stared at him. "Who? Your mother?"

He faced me and silently nodded.

"Yes, I spoke to her. Just for a bit," I admitted, feeling as though I'd betrayed him in some way. Though, he wasn't the slightest bit mad. In fact, there was a distinct emotion on his face. Was he... nervous?

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped. "What's she like? Is-Is she nice?"

I gazed at him for a moment before looking down at my lap. "Yeah, she's nice. She told me a bit about herself. Asked for my name. Even called me sweetheart in Italian," I listed, slightly giggling at the end.

Antonio chuckled, though it faded rather quickly. I could tell he'd been hoping for me to say something else. "I wish she wasn't."

"Wasn't what?" I asked. "Nice?"

"Yeah. I wish she was a cold hearted bitch," he bluntly said, words unfiltered. "That'd make things a lot easier, because it would've made sense, y'know? She'd have left me because she was a selfish prick. But she's not. Instead, she's nice. She's fucking nice. Which makes me wonder, why? Why the hell did she leave me? Why didn't she-she–"

His voice cracked, and he abruptly cut himself off.

"I don't know why it affects me so much," he murmured with a downcast head shake, eyes glossing over.