Prompt: Almost

Almost

    To put it simply, she was his best friend and ally for some years. Ezio, a boy of 15, never said so of course. He was too nervous, too scared to be laughed at by her and rejected. How foolish he was— now, he can see that she never would have rejected him as he thought. Never in the brutal, unjust way he imagined.

    He could remember the good ol' days, before... Before De Pazzi really became a problem for him. Sure they were always a problem, but it was one thing for petty fights and another for his father's and brothers' public hanging. But Ezio tried not to think of their hanging much, more of the days before that. Specifically of her, since his brothers' memory often brought him to tears.

    She was his first real crush. She was perfect, bold, unafraid to challenge him, absolutely breathtaking. So full of life and optimism. Ezio could remember sneaking beside her window some nights — not to sleep with her — as she relayed elaborate plans to sneak off during or after mass. He could remember her painstakingly telling him where to stand so she would see him near the Santa Maria del Fiore, which routes to take to avoid her family the best. It soon became tradition for him to sneak beside her window every week and devise a plan before putting it into action the next day, just to spend it walking around Firenze.

    Ezio could remember the specific moment he began falling in love for her. Vieri de Pazzi has approached him to antagonize, calling her some accessory, a whore, all sorts of bullshit— but he could not even catch his breath before spouting his lies before she had simply punched him in the jaw. With some threats on their lives, Vieri ran with his tail between his legs. But most importantly, Ezio could remember the sheer determination in her eyes. The way the sun illuminated faint freckles, the look of pride she wore as Vieri ran off. Even afterward, Ezio could see what that single punch did for her confidence. She walked straighter, prouder, her smile even seemed brighter.

    Ezio could also remember the day she had told him she would be leaving Firenze. Well, Italy entirely. "Better work," She would explain, trying to hide her tears with a stern tone. He could remember his own throat burning from holding his own back, his eyes hurting as he tried his best to stay stoic for her. Again, how stupid of him. She never would have judged him badly for missing his best friend. He pulled her into a tight hug, and tried his best not to cry too badly. She would apologize quietly against him while he forced himself to accept she was going, and most likely will never be seen again. He hated that he never hugged her before once in their year spent together. It was painful it would be the last time he would ever be in contact with her, but a relief that he ever was at all.

    Ezio now roams those sacred streets alone. The streets he would now spend on the run, hunting and killing, while she was... away. Having a better life, with a better man, hopefully. God, he hoped she was safe and happy. He could see now that was something he would not be able to provide after de Pazzi. Blood ran through his hands the same as wine and water.

    It was odd though. These memories often brought both a great feeling of content, or a great feeling of intense depression. It never seemed one or the other. Although, all he could do now was wish her the best, even though he still missed her company sometimes.