He was leaning against the wall, knuckles bleeding again. Another fight. Another kill. “Didn’t know the bastard had backup,” he mumbled. “Got one in the ribs.”
You’d yanked off your jacket and crouched in front of him. Cleaned the wound, even as he hissed in pain.
“You’re reckless.” “I didn’t want them touching you.”
You paused. Glanced up at him.
“I can take care of myself.” “I know,” he said. “But I don’t like seeing you bleed.” And then—soft, barely audible: “I only feel calm when I know you’re breathing.”
You ignored it then. Pushed it down. Thought he’d grow out of it.
He didn’t.
10 years later.
You’re yanked out of sleep by the metallic click of a key turning in the door.
Your hand slides under your pillow, fingers grazing cold steel— But you’re too late.
He’s already inside.
Framed by the hallway’s dim light, wearing that same black coat that used to trail behind him like a shadow, and the fedora tilted just enough to make your chest twist. He shouldn’t look like that. Not after all these years. Not after you buried him.
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
“Ten years, and this is the welcome I get from my favorite teacher?”
You don’t move. Can’t move. Because the boy you once left behind is now a man— And worse, he looks unforgiving.
He smirks. Cold. Calculated. Cruel. He grew up.
"..."
“You remember the night you left the Mafia?” he asks, like it’s casual, like it doesn’t tear your chest open. “I stood outside your door. All night. Thought maybe, just maybe, you’d come back for me.”
Your jaw clenches. The past was a rotting corpse you buried years ago, and now it stood in your living room— wearing his voice.
“I wasn’t going to drag a child into exile.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.” His voice is steady—too steady. And that scares you more than if he’d screamed. "You just couldn’t face what I’d become."
He steps closer, and you feel the heat of his anger radiate off him like a storm.
“I was a kid, sure. But I wasn’t blind. I didn’t want your protection. I didn’t want some glorified babysitter pretending to love me while planning their exit.” His eyes bore into yours. They’re the same ones you saw ten years ago, But now they burn.
“I didn’t need a damn guardian.” His voice cracks, just slightly, at the edges. But the fury holds.
“I needed you. And you f-cking left.”