The Blossom of Rose

23 • Dependent

The blonde makes frequent visits to check up on me, feed me, take care of me. On the second visit, he asked if I needed anything and on the third, he gave me a blanket.

It was the most recent check-in that flipped a whole coin side. After he fed me, he kissed me. Yeah, he kissed me.

And the worst part is I would've preferred for him to be Luca. I didn't kiss him back, don't worry. I just froze and he quickly scurried out the room.

I don't even know his name and he's been nothing but nice to me.

My brain aches too much to be thinking about this.

I should feel bad for the blonde but I replay my previous thought. I would have preferred for him to be Luca.

So, I close my eyes and imagine him.

His taste. His smell. His tongue teasing mine only for me to have control. His fingers at the back of my head deepening the kiss. I crave so bad to run my fingers through the familiar strands of his hair, grind my pelvis against his as he hardens underneath me.

I don't want to admit it but I think it's about time that I do.

I'm definitely attracted to him - every part of my body reacts to him in ways that it shouldn't. He's invaded my mind - I think about him way more than I should be and for the wrong reasons. His touch does wonders to me - it drives me insane to the point where I start to question my sanity.

Per l'amor del cazzo [for fuck sakes], I have a crush on him.

This is not going to end well. But there's a spark of hope that remembers he's coming for me.

So I wait and I wait and I wait. The hours unknowingly tick past. And I keep hallucinating the exact moment when I'm saved. Sometimes it's after a round of gunshots, shouts and an explosion. Other times, it's in secret with hushed whispers and tiptoeing. And in one of them, he finds me dead, blood clotting out from my stomach.

In this particular one, I'm awoken by shouts.

"You bastards, get me some fucking keys in here!"

There's only one man I know who curses that much. And my heart sighs at that certain depth of that voice, the rough undertones, the enraged vocals.

His fingers press to the pulse on my neck and I hear him exhale a breath. "Fuck, Rosa. Wake up." I'm shaken lightly and that action seems to disregard my sleep.

"Luca," my throat manages to mumble. I flutter my eyes open to see his flamboyant, pretty eyes analysing me, possibly for any injuries. My breathing becomes light and free as if a ton has been lifted off my chest. "You came."

He's here.

There's a jingle and a set of keys land next to him. He finds the right one and quickly unlocks the cuffs. I feel the warmth of his fingers brushing my wrist and I soothe the ache in them, all the while his eyes remain on me.

"Are you hurt?" He tries to cover it up but I hear his concern. It's faint but it's like the sun peeking through a hole in the curtain.

Blinding.

I angle my injured cheek to him and he caresses my hair out of the way, his touch eases the burning of pain.

"Motherfucker, lo ucciderò." [I'm going to kill him.] He sneers with enough malice in his voice to poison a whole town.

I turn my head back to face him and he ends up cupping my cheek in his palm. The pressure inerts a small wince of pain from me but I relax in his cordial touch. There's a part of me that still feels this to be too good to be true.