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It's a quiet night when he first notices. It's a quiet night when he comes to terms with it, as well.
They’re in a little motel and Angelo’s hands are free. For their lack of money, they rent a single room. Angelo knows where they’re going and knows how Nero is taking the long route. He thinks, this is alright. He feels, this is more than alright.
He doesn’t know what he feels.
Nero is fast asleep beside him, while he is still sitting up in the bed. The soft illumination of the moon is more than enough to cast a glow upon Nero’s stronger features.
He sees Nero’s full eyebrows and internally, makes a joke about them, it almost makes him smile.
He thinks about when he first saw Nero like this, and how he thought of just grabbing the nearest gun and shooting him square between his eyes.
He sees Nero's closed eyes, admires his short, yet charming eyelashes, and the little trace of dark eye circles under them.
He thinks about when he wanted to see that dark colour on Nero’s skin. Maybe by his own hand.
He sees Nero’s chest rise and fall softly, and sees him turn around in his sleep. He sees Nero’s soft hair, now let down, and the way he curls up in his sleep like a kid.
He can’t think of how he once wanted that chest to still completely.
It's a quiet night when he first notices. It's a quiet night when he comes to terms with it, as well.
They’re on a trip together to Florida, and he knows what's at the end of it. Neither of them have anything left. Not friends. Not family. Not hatred. Not vengeance.
He knows what he feels.