𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧. twists

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☾𝐱𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢. ═════════

═════════ 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬

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═════════ 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬.


THERE ARE QUITE A FEW THINGS that can make the recovery after the most dreadful fight with your ex-best-friend a tiny bit better: having a good, loud sobbing cry on your own; smashing a glass against a wall; punching a pillow.

Walking on your father having sex in the random hotel room you've stormed off to, to do all of the three aforementioned things, isn't one of them.

It was purely Emilia's fault, leaving the bathroom; she gave Carla the perfect space to bounce back and recollect herself, and she was left roaming though a random hotel, desperate for a place to be alone; desperate enough to try the first door, because she was still sobbing and rattling and in no way could go back.

But her father fucking a half-dressed woman still wearing her Jimmy Choo's?

Come on.

Somebody really wanted Emilia at her most desperate that night. They had been entirely successful.

"Dad-" Emilia whimpered, then turned around and ran down the empty corridor, almost twisting her ankle because of her high-heeled shoes; she didn't stop despite the sharp pain, because she just couldn't.

The only thing she found herself capable of was calling herself a taxi and dictating an address. She would've been impressed by the driver's superpowers, because he actually understood her intelligible wails, if she had the energy to be surprised.

She didn't.

"Valerio," she choked, "I'm in front of your house."

If the boy was slightly disturbed by her horrorlike voice on the other side of the phone, he didn't let it show. "I'll be right with you," he said instead and hung up.

He found Emilia two minutes later, standing in front of the main gate like some sort of a black widow princess. Her mascara wasn't even melted under her eyes anymore; the tears had washed it away.

"Valerio-" she said instead of a greeting, and then collapsed into his arms.

If Valerio was confused and a bit petrified by her sudden display of emotion, he didn't let that show, either. Instead, he picked Emilia up and carried her into the house in his arms.


"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked about twenty minutes later, when Emilia was huddled on his bed and all out of tears, sobs and shakes.

"No."

"Do you- Do you want me to leave?"

"Why would I want you to leave when I came here," Emilia was actually grateful for the boy's utterly stupid question. It reminded her that some things in life were still normal.

𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, eliteWhere stories live. Discover now