Work Text:
There were days, when he forgot that he was now Michel Cassano.
Years of being Jang Han Seo, beaten down by all those around him… the instinctive flinches and lowered eyes were hard to break out of.
Habits that had to be pushed to the side, to make way for this new persona.
Where Jang Han Seo was unsure, Michel was confident.
Where Jang Han Seo was seen as an idiot, Michel was a mafia account who no one disrespected.
It was a lot to get used to.
A snuffle brought him out of his musings, prompting him to look over to his right.
That was another thing to get used to.
Luca.
Sleeping with someone who wasn’t just trying to get Babel secrets or someone that his brother had picked to build ‘good relations’ with.
Actually being…. Loved.
Slowly getting out of bed, carefully not to disturb Luca too much (with the man still recovering from his bullet wound), he headed to the bathroom, catching his own gaze in the mirror.
Had he always looked this healthy?
Probably not.
He remembered constantly being told that he was lucky to be alive, and after surviving a gunshot wound and becoming a part of this mafia family… He finally agreed with the sentiment.
Not that his father or brother could have ever seen this day coming.
He could still hear their voice in the back of his head
Telling him that it was only a matter of time before Vincenzo and Luca and everyone else grew tired of him.
When they realised he was just as useless as he’d always been told.
And of course, once he started listening to the negative, intrusive thoughts, it was hard to stop.
Mafia accountant, hah!
They probably have someone else on the side who does all the important work. All the work he gets given is more like a diversion.
Like dangling keys in front of a baby.
He knew he should voice all these concerns to Vincenzo or even Luca… but what if the thoughts were right?
What if this was all just some elaborate prank?
What if, by revealing that he knew what was going on, they decided that their fun was over and kicked him out?
Where would he go then?
Taking a deep breath, Michel splashed some cold water over his face, hoping that the shock would break him free of this mental nightmare
He vowed that he would spend the next few days avoiding look in a mirror too long, knowing that if he did, he would start question himself again.
“I am loved.” He whispered, “I am free, and I am loved.”
“Michel?” A sleepy voice called out from the bedroom, “Michel?”
“Just nipped to the bathroom!” Michel forced that smile back on his face and turned to leave the room, “I’m here.”
Time to play his role once again.