Killed On Purpose

9

Those 8 hours while I waited for Silvio were the longest in my life.

I had no idea what to do or who else to call for help in that overwhelmed state. After Silvio hung up, I paced around the apartment like a lunatic and while doing so I couldn't stop replaying the memory of Lazzaro being handcuffed and taken away for murder. And that name... Angelo Moretti. Lazzaro had never mentioned someone named Angelo even despite them having the same last name. Were they distant relatives? What ties did they have?

While overthinking every little thing that crossed my mind, the negative side and the worst possible outcome, my parents called to check up on us and see how the flight had been. In that moment, when I heard mum's familiar and joyful voice, I felt bad for not thinking about them sooner and reaching out to dad. He would've known what to do. After telling them what had happened, dad immediately booked the first morning flight to Paris. I felt like a little girl at that moment for feeling the need to have my dad by my side, but I didn't care.

The sun was just now starting to rise and apparently I had managed to doze off sometime while waiting for Silvio. Goosebumps formed on my arms and legs as I shifted and realized I had fallen asleep on the couch without a blanket to cover myself. When I tried to get up, my neck hurt from being in the same awkward position on the armrest and I had to give myself a minute for it to relax.

The brightly lit white numbers on the clock on the shelves to the far right showed that it was just a little past five in the morning. I had slept for only four hours, but I couldn't go back to bed. Even if it was so damn early. Hating how silent the apartment was, I turned the TV on for the background noise on a random channel and went to the bathroom first then to the kitchen to make myself some chamomile tea. As I waited for the water to boil, I focused on the rerun episode of Castle on Fox. Ryan and Esposito were, yet again, bickering about something and Beckett looked so done with them, but it was entertaining in a way. It was a sad attempt at busying my mind with something else, but worked for a moment. It actually worked better than I had thought because I didn't hear the first knock on the door. Nor the second.

When the kettle started whistling loudly and broke my daze, I was able to hear the next knock on the door. Feeling startled by both sounds, I first got the kettle off the stove then went to the door.

"Willa, open up," as soon as I heard Silvio's voice relief flooded my system and I opened the door as fast as I could. He didn't even get the chance to walk in before I embraced him and buried my head in his neck, his familiar cologne calming me down even more. Silvio's arms flew around me a second later and I hated myself for still finding comfort in his arms, but I didn't let go. He landed a gentle kiss on my forehead and rubbed my back reassuringly.

Oh, how I needed this man.

"You okay?" he asked me after a while and when I nodded against his chest he pulled us apart slowly. He carefully walked us inside and closed the door behind him, and only then did he look around the apartment. I was confused at first why he was being so observant, but then I realized this was the first time he was coming here. His eyes particularly inspected the framed pictures of Lazz and I for a second longer, and a twinge of pain shot through my heart at the sight. Silvio's jaw was clenched and it seemed to be because of anger or jealousy at first , but then I noticed the longing and sadness in his eyes, and realized he was thinking of everything he had lost and everything him and I could've had instead.

"Tea?" with a soft voice, I asked him in an attempt to deflect his focus elsewhere. I didn't have the guts to tell Silvio what I had decided either. Just like I couldn't tell Lazzaro.

Fuck. If I had told Lazzaro that I wanted to break up, that would've been the last conversation we would've had before they arrested him.

"If you put some whiskey in it and hold the tea then yes. Please," I noticed this time that he sounded tired, but he tried very hard not to show it by using light sarcasm. I turned around and prepared my tea first then poured him some of the whiskey Lazz occasionally drank. All while doing this, I could feel his eyes on me, on every curve and every dip of my body, and couldn't help but embrace the heat that surged through me. I missed his gaze.