Deluca

TWENTY-SIX

Francesco lay in bed staring absently at the ceiling above him. Eleanor, as usual, was sprawled out across his chest. He wondered if she knew how restless she slept, never staying on her side of the bed. Somehow always ending up on his side, not that he minded.

Since he had been waking with her at his side, he found it harder for him to get out of bed. Unfortunately that was inevitable.

Since Eleanor had fallen asleep, he found himself unable to speak. Tomorrow — which was in two hours, was one that he feared, and fear wasn't a familiar emotion to him.

For his entire life, it had always been what it was. He would wake up everyday unsure if he would be alive by the end of it. It was such a constant worry, he had become desensitized to the entire ordeal.

But he felt like now he had something to live for, and not for someone else. He had always wanted to live because he knew his sister, brother, mother, and best friends relied on him. It was a passive motivation that only lay in his love for others.

But tonight, the tension that sat in his chest was a selfish cause. He wanted to live not because of Eleanor's attachment to him, but of his own attachment to her.

He would always be curious what it would be like to wake up to her for the rest of his life. To sire children with her and watch as they grew to adulthood. He was curious how he would handle having a family he created.

Would he be awful and absent like his own father? Or would his love resemble the love he felt from his older brother, Giuseppe. He hoped it would be the former, but he could spend hours on end thinking about it.

It what what made his chest so heavy as he lay there, uncertain of tomorrow. He wanted to return to Eleanor, despite his own mind running from the realization, in his heart he knew the truth.

He loved her. Even now as he lay there with Eleanor in his arms, he felt a contentment that he had hadn't felt since he was a child.

He had to come home to her.

After hours laying there without being able to fall asleep, Francesco knew it was time to make his way back towards the docks. The drive was already far away.

After thirty minutes of laying there, Francesco strategized a way to detach himself from his wife without waking her.

He could handle the look on her face when she realized that he was leaving. He slowly climbed from her arms, replacing himself with a pillow that Eleanor immediately hugged tighter when he was free from the bed.

He stood there, naked in the moonlight, staring down at her. He could feel his heart skip a beat as he watched her. Not before long, he pried his eyes away, reassuring himself that he would see her again soon.

Francesco dressed quietly, managing to sneak out of the home without Eleanor stirring. As he closed and locked the door behind him, Francesco buried any anxieties, hoping the end of his troubles would be today.

~*~

Francesco walked into his own home, frowning at the scene before him. His home was trashed, it would have appeared that Henri and Louis hadn't managed to make it here yet to clean. At the very least, he was glad Eleanor wasn't here to see the scene that lay before him.

Ignoring the mess in the living room, Francesco turned to Andreas, "What did you tell your friends?"

Andreas frowned, he was seated on the sofa, wringing his hands over and over again in anxiety. "They aren't my friends. But I told them they are meeting with someone who they think they can kill and rob."

"You're going to be an innocent civilian, my friend," Enzo said, clapping Francesco on the back, "That's a first;."

Francesco ignored Enzo, rolling his eyes and frowning at the drink in his hand. He refrained from commenting that the sun had barely risen and Enzo was on his second drink.