The smoke of the cigars hung in the air, and you were there, leaning against the bar, talking with Paulie and Pussy, trying to keep your composure while they laughed at everything and nothing at all. You were one of Tony’s trusted guys, and you knew it: your word carried weight, your gaze imposed respect.

And then, as always, he appeared.

You didn’t even need to see him arrive; you felt him before, as if your name itself had brought him to you. The way his steps quickened, the way his eyes went straight to yours, ignoring all the noise of the bar, as if the whole world was nothing but a hallway between him and you. And of course, Paulie didn’t let it slip by.

“Look at him, look at him…” he laughed with that crooked grin. “Like a puppy looking for his owner.”

Pussy burst out laughing, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “That kid don’t breathe unless he’s stuck to you. What a ridiculous thing, eh.”

You felt the weight of their teasing, but also the warmth in your chest when Chris reached you. He didn’t care about anything not the comments, not the stares. His fingers brushed your arm with that almost desperate urgency, as if he had to make sure you were there, real, present.

Come with me for a bit? he asked, like the answer didn’t matter, because he already knew it would be yes.