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"This isn't the time," Vincenzo murmured, his eyes closed. He was bare-chested, covered in the blood of his enemies, while Cha-young tended to him.
"Time for what?" she shook him slightly as she scrubbed the red specks of him. They were at his apartment, in his shower. Vincenzo was stripped down to his underwear, kneeling on the floor as Cha-young washed him clean, her work clothes getting soaked, not that she cared.
"To be nice to me." His eyes remained closed. "I've murdered-"
"Let me wash your hair," she instructed, tilting his head back. He closed his eyes, tears rolling down his face.
"Chayoung-ah," he whispered. "I'm so tired. I feel empty."
She didn't know what to say so she remained silent. She'd felt the same way when her father died, and there were no words that could've eased the hurt and made her feel better.
She efficiently pumped two squirts of shampoo in her hands, and then worked it into his hair, lathering it up, and gently massaging his scalp. The fragrance was light and upscale and she thought that it was tragic that his mother had to be murdered for him to drop the formalities when speaking to her.
"Lean on me when you're tired." She finally spoke up, as she combed her fingers through his hair, and rinsed it, making sure all the bubbles were gone. "It's okay to be empty. I'll be here to fill you up." It was now time for conditioner, and she squeezed a generous amount in her palm and then worked it in. Vincenzo's eyes were still closed, as he remained rigidly upright, keeping a respectful distance. Tenderly, she pulled him closer, so he could lean on her while the conditioner seeped in.
"You're going to get wet," he protested weakly, but he snuggled in the crook of her neck, as the hot spray pounded and cleansed him.
"I could take off my clothes, but I don't think you can handle it." Cha-young teased. She rubbed his back, up and down, in soothing movements.
Vincenzo laughed softly, opening his eyes. They were red-rimmed, and he looked so damned tired. There were bags under his eyes and deep brackets at the corner of his mouth. It's as if the ordeal with his mother and Babel had aged him overnight.
"You are safe here. And protected," Cha-young whispered, blinking back tears. "Do you understand?"
Vincenzo sniffled, and nodded, closing his eyes again. His hands were used for fighting and killing, taking the lives of others, and dispensing his brand of justice. But right now he was weary, and could barely clench his hand.
"Let me finish wash you," she said. "I know you want to be clean."
He nodded again, his muscles aching, and head pounding. He didn't want to think, or even feel, or process what had happened.
Every day of his life, he'd thought about his mother, and when he'd finally met her, he was too proud, too angry, and too scared to reveal himself to her. He'd never gotten the chance to call her Mother one more time before she died.
Her death was his fault, she was targeted because of him, and he failed to protect her.
Vincenzo exhaled shakily, crying silently.
He was truly scum.
A coward.
Stupid.
Weak.
"Stand up." Cha-young interrupted his thoughts. She gripped his arms was now guiding him to his feet. Inhaling, he followed her lead.
She had put an extra amount of body wash in the cloth to make sure there was enough soap, and starting with his neck, and she rubbed his skin in a circular motion. "Turn around." She guided him to present his back to her, and she scrubbed him, over and over before moving on to his underarms and chest, then arms. She took her time, treating him almost like a child, getting his elbows and in between each finger. Soon his upper body was covered in fluffy white soap bubbles.
"Think of me as your caretaker. Can I take your shorts off?" she asked solemnly, regretting her earlier teasing. It felt all was surreal, this seriousness. But she wouldn't trade it for anything, because she knew he needed someone who cared for him on a primal level, one human being to another.
"Yes," Vincenzo said, bowing his head.
Cha-young's chest grew tight. He was so vulnerable right now and was placing his most intimate self in her hands. There was nothing she could say, only prove that his trust was founded.
She placed the washcloth down, and shrugged off her jacket, and then unbuttoned her work shirt, peeling it off her wet skin. It didn't make sense that she was fully clothed and he was about to be fully naked. She pulled off her pants, and soon she was in her underwear. She wanted to show him her trust as well. She was fit with her aerial yoga, but she had a soft belly, and her thighs and hips were wider than what fashion magazines deemed pretty but she was comfortable showing every fold and dimple because right now they were merely two souls who loved each other.
"Get under the water, you will catch cold," Vincenzo scolded, pulling her close.
She pushed his boxers down, as he searched for the clasp on the back of her bra.
"I'll wash you, too," he murmured, as he kicked off his underwear, and she pulled off her bra. His hands moved to her hips and they both pushed down her panties, and so they were both naked in front of each other.
"Your hair needs washing," he spun her around so her back was to his chest. "Let me."
Cha-young shivered, and closed her eyes, enjoying the intimacy of Vincenzo massaging her scalp, and his body touching hers, skin to skin. He helped her shampoo and condition her hair, and wash her back while she washed everywhere else on her body, whilst he finished washing himself.
"Thank you," Cha-young whispered, reaching up to hug him as the hot spray pounded them both. "For taking care of me when you needed it more." She buried her head in his chest, and he held her close, both their bodies slippery, and hot from the water, scented with Vincenzo's expensive body wash.
"I'm tired," he whimpered.
"I know." Cha-young held him close, rubbing his back.
She turned off the shower, and then led him to his room, taking her time to pat his skin dry with the bath towel, and then lotioned him all over so his skin was smooth and supple. Vincenzo fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, and Cha-young pulled the covers up to his chin.
She dressed in one of his undershirts and silk pajama pants but she didn't dare sleep.
Vincenzo had declared war on Babel and she needed to be alert.
Luca called Vincenzo's phone a couple of hours later.
"He's not available," Cha-young said firmly, looking at Vincenzo fast asleep. She'd be damned if she woke him up; Vincenzo needed to heal, and take a break from the constant trauma.
But Luca needed backup, as he and Vincenzo had business to take care of before Luca's flight back to Italy.
Cha-young looked at the clock, and Vincenzo's sleeping form. "I'll come in his place. Can we take care of it before dawn?"
Luca assured her they could, and so Hong Cha-young stepped in on behalf of the Consigliere.
For Vincenzo, she would commit whatever crime, and take any life, just so he wouldn't have to.
And so she did, as he slept peacefully through the night.
"Thank you, Ms. Hong," Luca said as dawn broke.
"Promise me to take care of him if he goes back," Cha-young blinked back tears. "And if ever he needs help. Call me, and I'll be there."
Luca surveyed the dead bodies that were strewn. "I don't think he's coming back," he said. "It seems like everything he wants is here."
Cha-young bowed her head in respect. She was too smart to place false hope in a foreigner, but she was elated all the same that Luca recognized what she and Vincenzo had.
"Can he have some peace?" she asked. "He can get a good life here-"
Luca sighed. "Not when he carries the name, Cassano." He met Cha-young's eyes. "He will always have a target on his back."
Cha-young nodded, but the wheels in her brain were already turning.
In the end, there was only one option: faking Vincenzo's death so he could live anew.
"Are you going to miss it?" Cha-young asked as they headed to Malta under fake names and passports.
"That's all in the past," Oh Ju-Hyung squeezed her hand. "My future is with you."