𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 | 𝚓𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝

𝙢𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙 | 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟻/𝟾

[photo: jschlatt sitting on the floor at twitch con from VoiceoverPete's Instagram live! | wc: 1,512 | note, please read fully: for all those interested, my album drops in early July! If you'd like a link to it when it comes out please leave me a comment or send me a message! My only request is, seeing as my outside life is something I would still like to be separate from this and I am quite a private person, that you refrain from mentioning this story in any form of comments on the songs and that you refrain from looking into my personal social medias (though I don't mind if you follow me on my instagram) connected to my name (which is my artist's name). If that's something you're worried you can't respect, it's really not a problem at all, I just would prefer you avoid asking for the link then, with absolutely no hard feelings. I don't want that to deter you from interacting with it in general, I'd still love to know if you listened to it and what you think! I also don't want expectations to be too high, most of the songs are just me playing guitar and singing, they are by no means "studio quality" haha. Seeing so many of you be so interested in seeing what I make outside of just this story has made me happy beyond words, thank you all so so much for all of the support. The album is officially done as of yesterday, I just have to work with a distributor (which takes about a month of communications) and it should be done and out around July 1st. If you've asked for a link, and still want one after this disclaimer please comment here or message me so they're all in one place and I know you've read this. Anyways, thank you for understanding, and without further ado, here is the next part!]

His house was massive, and the drive to it was short enough that they only question weighing on your mind now was how expensive it must have been.

The pillars lining the hallway kept the paintings hung on the wall nearly completely hidden, but your eyes lingered on one depicting a slightly stout man with with a rather bulbous nose wearing a dark overcoat that looked to have the texture of wool still on a sheep. His hat curled at the brim and gave you the impression of a poor man wishing to prove to others that he had greater wealth than he did, but his eyes seemed to be looking through you.

"You like Bulgakov?" He stepped forward to stand next to you, following your gaze.

"Hm?" You shook yourself from your thoughts and reminded yourself of where you were standing, and with whom you were standing.

"Mikhail Bulgakov, the man in the painting," he made a meaningless small gesture with his hand.

"Oh," you registered what he was saying and tore your eyes from the painting, "I mean, sure."

He laughed, "I'll lend you Heart of a Dog, it's his best book."

"I'd love to read it," you tried to mask how angry you still were, but found that it was getting easier as you had a chance to collect yourself. You followed him as he guided you to his living area where the ceilings seemed to reach the heavens and on both sides of the room lay curved staircases to the next floor that were reminiscent of those in a royal castle with golden handrails and marble inlays.

Not realizing the shocked expression that settled on your face was so obvious, you found him staring at you and closed your previously agape mouth. Clearing your throat in a short moment of humility, you found that you could only muster one word, "Wow."

He chuckled, moving closer to you until your hands brushed together sending waves of nerves through your system. As his fingers timidly interlocked with yours, he asked, "Is this okay?"

Still at a loss for words, and incapable of understanding his shift in character, you nodded and squeezed his hand reassuringly—for the tough personas you both put on to the outside world, he was quite a shy and private man and you were much softer than he was led to believe.

"I have something I want you to see," he wore a knowing smile, one that you felt you could grow to trust. While he had smiled at you before, it usually was more mischievous with tones of impatience, all of which had disappeared.

"Okay," you managed to speak, though only one word, quietly before he began leading you up the right staircase and to a window.

He opened it, letting go of your hand, and put his foot on the windowsill, shifting his weight to duck beneath it.

"No, don't!" You grabbed around his waist to bring him back inside, and as you noticed his body was now placed flush against you, you didn't feel the sudden need to let go.

The laughter you felt reverberate in his chest caused you to step back and let him turn to face you.

He placed his hand on your cheek and let it travel down your neck to your shoulder, "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay. Just watch."

He stepped back onto the windowsill, stood up fully with his torso outside, grabbed something out of your view, and lifted himself up to where you could only see his shins and feet. As they ascended out of view, you stuck your head out to find him extending a hand to you.

"Oh, no, no, I don't think so," you shook your head and moved back fully inside.

"It's alright, I'll help you. Let me help you," as his words hit your ears, you knew that they were loaded with secondary meanings, but you were too scared to decipher them.

You thought back on your accomplishments while working for the company and the more you did, the more it became apparent that this was something you could do.

With a sigh, you took his hand, stepped onto the windowsill, and pulled yourself onto the roof next to him, slightly scrapping your knee against the tile. When you reached a comfortable position, you did your best to ignore the stinging feeling in your knee and as the cold breeze struck your skin, you enveloped him in your arms and clung to him as if he was the only thing preventing you from falling.

"It's okay, I've got you," his arms wrapped around you, holding you to him tightly.

As you relaxed, you moved your head from against his neck and looked at the scenery, your jaw dropped. The sun had just begun to set over the New York City skyline, and the view you had of it could not have been more perfect.

The bright yellows and oranges reflected off the glass of the impossibly tall buildings and faded into soft pastel pinks and blues. Above your head you could already see the stars beginning to appear, speckling the otherwise black canvas.

"Jonathan..." you breathed, sitting next to him on the shingles, still huddled against his side.

He wrapped his arm around your waist as you fell against him, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

As your eyes found his, you realized that he hadn't stopped staring at you the entire time. Finding it difficult to speak still, you nodded.

His free hand came up to lightly touch your face and your breaths grew shallow. Gently, as if you were the most fragile thing he had ever touched, he pressed his lips to yours. Quickly, but not sharply, he pulled away, keeping his face near yours.

Watching your expression, and the smile that found its way to your lips, he let out an airy sigh of relief and met your lips again, for a longer and more passionate kiss.

When you ultimately pulled away, only for air, you swore that you could see stars—no, galaxies in his eyes. They were full and deep, moving yet motionless, and you longed to look into them for the rest of your life.

Wait. You blinked, unsure of what just happened and the thoughts that you were having. He is—or was your boss. He runs the biggest mob family in New York City, and who were you? Some poor nobody off the streets doing his bidding.

Did you even quit? At this point, it was hard to tell, and you were unsure if you would ever muster the courage to find out.

Were you still mad? Of course you were still mad! Right?

Ty should have never been hired. But maybe there was more to it? Even if there was, would it matter?

He infuriated you with how calmly he could leave so many questions unanswered, yet you felt so at peace with him that you didn't even feel the burning need for answers when his arms were around you.

He sensed your hesitation, "Was that okay?"

"I—" you sighed and turned back to the skyline, watching the sun disappear, "I don't know."