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He smells faintly like smoke and cologne. It was probably the last two things in the world that you thought would bring you comfort, but here you are.
Your eyes are still bloodshot from crying, stinging with that sore dryness that you’ve familiarized yourself with for years—years of lonely nights when you felt like everything yet nothing mattered, when you felt so empty that all you could do was lie there—only this time, it was different. You were lucky to have Luca here, lest you fell back into your old habits.
You had placed yourself comfortably between the nook of his neck and shoulder, allowing yourself to hear his heartbeat, so steady and comforting. He was warm. You had a clear view of his collar bone, seeing as the shirt he arrived in was plenty oversized, and as your eyes trailed down you had stopped to watch his chest rise and fall with the languid pace of his breathing. His shoulders were broad and firm, enveloping you in his warmth as he wrapped his arms around your smaller figure.
He was beautiful. You felt like crying again.
Your subtle shifting must have woke him up. He groaned softly, before meeting your gaze with his tired, half-lidded eyes.
“…Sorry, did I wake you up?” You whispered, your voice still muddled from your stuffy nose.
He closed his eyes while pulling you closer into him, readjusting himself, “Mhmm, it’s okay. I was just resting.” The pressure of his biceps against your torso was surprisingly very relaxing, almost akin to the comfort of a weighted blanket.
“Isn’t that the same as sleeping?”
“No,” He chuckled softly, barely fighting the grogginess, “I wanted to get you to fall asleep first, so I was pretending to sleep.”
“Ah. That explains why you weren’t snoring,” A small smile formed on your face. You were sure he felt it against his skin.
He scoffs, sporting a tired smile, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You laugh, softly. He always seemed to cheer you up, even at your lowest points.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I passed out,” He spoke earnestly.
You thought about it, laying in silence while he awaited your answer. He never made you feel rushed—always so patient and gentle. The moonlight filtering through the windows cast a faint glow on Luca’s shoulders and hair as you met his gaze. You always thought the lavender of his eyes matched the peacefulness of the moon.
“I feel better, yeah.”
He smiles, wholeheartedly. “That’s good to hear.” Who would have thought a mafia boss could be this charming?
Quietly you snort, feeling the aftermath of crying once more by the clogged sound of your stuffy nose, “You’re pretty dangerous, aren’t you?”
“Hah, you finally get how mean and scary I am,” He grins. The two of you share a sleepy, delirious fit of laughter before he brushes away your hair presses a light kiss on your forehead. His lips are a little chapped, but the normalcy of his lack of self care fills you with a sense of familiarity, helping you regain some normalcy after having such dark thoughts. You feel warm, and the ill feeling of self hate washes away for a bit.
“I love you, got it?”
“Mhm. I love you too… Thank you.”
The two of you are fast asleep by the time the sun rises.
—
“Man, crying is pretty POG!”
“Luca, I swear to god. Please just eat your breakfast.”