Puppy Love

XXVII

Josephine greeted her with so much excitement, not wanting to let her wallow further for someone so unworthy. Analisse had called her on her saddest night, and Josephine was willing to offer her comfort in those days.

"Your outfit is so pretty, ugh you're so cute!" The girl twirls her around to see the full look of her yellow dress. It was his favourite colour, but Analisse completely forgot about him in her moment of detachment.

She was ruined for days, but she knew it wasn't meant to be, and she'll soon have someone who'd care for her. She never looked for Luciano, she never tried after that day. She had forgotten the details on his face, his skin, his air. He vanished so immediately despite having so much love for him, she knew she has to let go. The same way he did... heartlessly.

"Thank you, ma belle. You're so gorgeous, I love your jeans," they walked past the hallway to the library.

Luciano talks to a new boy who requires his guidance, but he noticed that the boy's eyes are averted elsewhere. Then he sees her.

Her sweet smile has returned, the sparkle in her eyes shines so brightly, and her dress, he looked at the dress he used to love seeing on her.

"Do you know her? God— she's so cute, man," the boy, Francis, asked. His gaze never stopped, he looked until she was out of sight, and his feet almost lead him to her.

"You don't talk to her, don't come close to her or even breathe her air," Luciano utters in a way that would make one intimidated by his rather harsh tone. And it worked.

"Wha... Why not? Is she your girl or something?" Luciano's face fell, struggling to say a word.

"Her dad set up that rule for everyone, so just stay away," he lies, how good of a liar.

"Hm, alright. Too bad, she seems so sweet," He looked away disappointed.

"You should ask someone to do this, I need to go somewhere for a bit," Francis only shrugs and walks away from him.

His powerful strides to the library were swift, and he immediately asked everyone to leave.
The students felt odd but left nonetheless because of his violent tendencies. He noticed everyone are leaving including her but he snatched her by her arm and locked the door.

Analisse was baffled and panicked to be in his presence. She couldn't understand what he wanted, but he looked at her infuriated.

She looked up into his eyes, finally remembering the features on his face, the details, every strand of hair and freckles.

"What's wrong?" She asks him, her soft voice made him relish and he closed his eyes to memorize her sweet scent. Analisse frowns and watches him in bewilderment.

"What are you wearing?" he asks her as if the answer wasn't any obvious if only he'd look.

"A dress, why?" her eyes wandered awkwardly, feeling disturbed by his question.

"It's too short," he mentions, and her eyes roll back. She couldn't hate him even for doing this, but she grew so agitated.

"You don't get to police my clothing after what you did to me. I've never done anything to you, just leave me be," she says as she pushes him hard. Her eyes start to glisten, her nose has turned to a shade of red.

He stood there stunned by her words, it's not like he can expect kindness after his mistreatment. She's kind enough not to curse at him.

"I won't and you know that. I'll stay very fucking close to you whether you like it or not. I'm responsible to protect you at all costs, I promised that to your father," she looks down, feeling drowned in his air.

She inhales deeply, trying her hardest not to break down. "Yet you're the one who hurt me. I'll tell my papa that we're done, I don't want anything to do with you. Don't give me a reason to make him hurt you,"
Luciano swallows harshly, his jaw clenched as he falls apart before her. "I could've given you the comfort you need. But I supposed it would feel void, the same way you feel about me,"

She opens the door, leaving him to do as he wishes.

She could feel his pain, why is she connected to him so deeply? Why does she feel so shattered after her wish to avoid him? He wasn't hers, he didn't want to be. So why does it hurt? Did he lie? It shouldn't hurt him if it's true. She grows distraught and anguished. She had done so well, for a week she mourned the loss of him and now that she finally feels liberated he slithers his way back into her life.

He practically begged her to hate him, so why is he attempting ways to remain close to somebody he's pushed away so coldly? His insanity is disturbing her mind, and the veins on her fist protrude.

She stood up from her chair, making her way to see him once again. This time she feels out of control, only that her body is moving towards him. She opens the door of the library, smelling his scent in between shelves.

She noticed him leaning on a shelf, the same shelf he approached her not long ago. She stood in front of his gaze, leaving him no choice but to look at her.

Analisse takes no time to slam her palm on his face and the noise echoed. "That's for being a liar," once again, another slap. "That's for using my body and insulting me," he never stops her, and he takes another once again. "That's for trying to control my clothing," and she slaps him three more times before he takes her wrist and pulls her close.

"Are you done?" he asks her. He notices her slowly trying to hide from him. Which he didn't allow as he lift her chin.

It was then she finally succumbs to her pain and cries. "Why won't you stay away from me? I thought you wanted that so why are you doing this to me?" she punches his chest, but her touch feels so light that he felt loved by her violence.

"I never said that, I only told you what I truly feel. I never said I would stay away from my favourite little fucktoy," she paused, her eyes slowly losing all their emotion as he utter those words. He's smirking so proudly as if he hadn't spent his day in misery.

She pulls her hand away from him, and her heart palpitates. She felt bullied, she remembered days when the girls would insult her. He's just like them.

"I see. From now on don't touch me, or be in any proximity that would mean I could see you. Any touch from you, Luciano, is a vile assault and I'll be damned if I let that happen to me again,"

His smirk dropped, and he recalled those moments when everything had just started, when he cared for her— or at least pretended to. She compared him to the man who harmed her, and it didn't feel good at all. He feels discomfort roaming his skin, slithering in his vessels. He's gone too far, and he knew he couldn't back away from this.

He tried to chase her, but he couldn't bare to let her hate him any more.

.
.
.
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I don't like this man at all. He was doing so well.

He deserves worse than slaps fr.