𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

Gigil (n.) - The irresistible urge to squeeze someone because you love them.

Anastasia

The cold winter breeze grazed my skin, and with a small groan, I throw the duvet back. I open my eyes, sitting up with a small yawn. I let my hands drop back to my hands and smile. Looking to the right of me, Vincenzo was gone. I couldn't help but feel sad, he left. I look towards the window to try to figure out what time it is, before noticing a toned, tall figure leaning over the railing on the balcony, smoking a cigarette.

"Vincenzo," I call out, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

He turns his head to face me, before smiling.

"Goodmorning Bellissima," He spoke. (Beautiful.)

I stand up from the bed, walking through the beautiful balcony doors. I tilt my head slightly, not understanding what he said.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, sweetheart."

"Okay," I yawn, leaning against the railing as my legs fail beneath me.

"Still can't walk?" He asks.

I nod, holding my hand out to him. I watch as he looks from my face to my hand then back to my face.

"What?" He asks.

"I want one," I smile signaling to his cigarette.

"No," He sighs.

"Please?" I ask.

"Don't,"

"Don't what?" I ask.

"Don't do that with your eyes."

I smile, laughing a little at his face.

"Pretty please, Vincenzo."

"Yeah, fine whatever." He sighs in defeat grabbing one out of the packet he left on the table and taking the lighter from his pocket.

He places the cigarette in my mouth and raises the lighter to my lips, setting it alight. I copy his exact movements. I cough a little from the smoke causing Vincenzo to chuckle a little.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks.

"Fine, I guess. How did you sleep?" I ask.

"Satisfied," He smirks.

I roll my eyes at his integrity.

"What time is it?" I ask.

Vincenzo slides his hand into his pocket and brings his phone out of it, looking at the screen.

"9 am."

"What time's breakfast?" I ask.

"8 am," He answers.

I frown, looking over the balcony.

"Are you hungry?" He asks.

"A little," I mumble.

"I'll get you some food, what do you want?" He asks.

I didn't get his acts of kindness all of a sudden. Is it because I slept with him? Probably, maybe he thinks if he's kind, I'll let him again. Maybe I will.

"Anything," I sigh.

"Are you sure? You're a very picky eater."

"Actually, can I come with you downstairs?" I ask.

"Sure,"

"Thank you," I smile, handing him the cigarette before walking inside.

I make my way to the bathroom, splashing my face with water. I looked at myself in the mirror, I admired my skin, I no longer looked sickly and tired, I had color in my face, and dull bags under my eyes.