𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

35 || The Right Thing

Song: The Neighbourhood - void (slowed + reverb)

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Nico

"You're too late."

Water drips from the ceiling in the distance but I'm focused on the sound of his expensive Italian loafers as they echo through the outhouse.

I stare ahead, squaring my shoulders. I was twice his size, it'd only take me 26 seconds to snap his neck in thirteen different places in a way that'd make his death feel like an eternity.

"Look at you, Nicolò." He stops just far enough where he's out of reach and my hand flexes at my side.

That wasn't my fucking name.

"Always so tuff." He observes, those pale blue eyes trailing down my form. "Strong, handsome, selfish. Just the type of man your crackwhore of a mamá would fawn after."

"Fuck you." I stay rooted to my spot. Not because I want to, but because the ground won't let me move.

Annoyance bubbles in my chest.

"I believe you mean, thank you." He starts to round me and my eyes track his movements, preparing for an opening to launch myself at him, "I did you a favour. That woman practically threw you into my arms to chase after her next high." A trail of smoke follows after the man who now has a cigarette in his hand. "I fixed you, gave you a purpose, Rosso."

I don't buy into his bullshit. He forced the devil himself to inject the art of manipulation into his veins.

"Where is she." I say evenly. If I could just get him to move closer, I'd have his pathetic little life in the palm of my hand.

His eyes sparkle in amusement. "Why, she's dead. Probably drugged up and throughly fucked into the afterlife." He chuckles and shakes his head. "Quite literally." The sound of his laugh reverberates through the walls of my mind.

I can feel the throbbing in my chest, but it's so faint that I can do nothing but stare ahead, my gaze empty.

He stops and tilts his head, "That doesn't even make you sad does it?" His eyes run over me in pure amazement. "It's magnificent."

My fist clenches at my side. "Why don't you come closer? Get a better look at what you created for yourself."

"I'm good, right here." He chuckles, pivoting his entire body towards me and the sight of those eyes make me want to claw at my insides. "Just out of reach."

He was always out of reach. 

My teeth ache while I bite back a sneer. "Just like a fucking coward. Always second best."

A snarl escapes his lips and he steps forward. But I don't grab him, I can't. My body is paralyzed in response to him and I'm taken back to a time where he was the one that was twice my size.

This isn't real.

He never spoke to me in English, he was a purebred Italian. The only time he ever spoke to me in English was in my memories.

"You scared?" He taunts, before he flicks the cigarette in his hand towards me. I look down, past the gun in my hand and watch the white stick roll towards my feet. "There you go. Take it. Use it."