🅟🅢🅐

He's a smug little shit that views himself as above other Ghouls.

Until ...

Va bene. Va bene. You are getting married. You are fine. This is fine.

Copia's vision tunneled.

He was not fine.

"This was supposed to be a quiet evening. Civilizzato! Instead... I am hosting a circus."

That was the cruelest part.

Neither of them was unfamiliar with death.

"Been trying to get you to myself all evening. Wanted... Wanted five minutes where you were all mine."

Six months ago, this place had felt like a grave he kept returning to. Now—Now it didn't feel like something he'd survived. It felt like something he'd been waiting for.

"Tried to do this right—Take it slow. Give you time. Thought I could, but— , I can't wait anymore—"

It still startled him. That someone had looked at him—awkward, neurotic, perpetually one step away from humiliation—and thought, Yes. That one.

"Don't get how it can be that easy for some people. Maybe I'm just... too much..."

"Scusa, I meant to—there was supposed to be more speech before this part—"

"Shouldn’t have tasted you that first time—Now I’m starved—"

The year is 2008. ...

"If I say the Swedes did this to humiliate me... would you believe me?"

"In here, I'm still him. Just some kid with shitty gear and bigger dreams than sense."

"Something I fiddle with when—" When you leave the room. When I’m alone with this goddamn ache.

Dreams had always been cruel like this, giving him just enough to ache.

"Ti prego, tesoro, just a taste—solo una volta—"

Mannaggia, why had he thought proximity would embolden him?

"Please. Let me stay here. Like this."

"You’re not playing fair."

"I can’t breathe when he touches you."

What alchemy had his brother worked during tour to rewrite history?

"Dio cane, make him stop looking at them like that."

He was either about to be slapped or kissed—and honestly, at this point, he’d take either.