You'll Always Have My Shoulder When You Cry

The Assasin is scared of a kid

3rd person pov

Did you know that feeling when you're so tired that you could pass out?

Sadly, Alessio Bianchi knew that feeling. In fact, that's how he felt right now after fighting and killing those gangs. His legs felt like they were going to give up. Not even bothering to spare a glance at his brother Matt, who asked him if he was okay, he was never okay ever since he started going out about... He went to his room and crashed on his bed. He was nicely asleep; haha, just kidding.

He was having a nightmare. He hated having nightmares; it made him feel weak, like how he felt that day when his kid was taken. He doesn't even know his own kid's name or their gender. He doesn't let himself ponder about his kid; he doesn't have time for that shit. Also, it would break his heart, but Alessio doesn't want to admit that he has a heart.

Waking up from a nightmare is the absolute worst, but sometimes he dreams about his kid, how he would actually be capable of loving a kid. The only people in the world he loves right now are his brothers and maybe, in the future, his boyfriend or friend. Honestly, their relationship has not been tagged yet because they're extremely strong, big muscles mafia men who can't tell everyone they're happy. I mean, gay.

Today he woke up at 2 o'clock from his usual nightmares and was sitting in his (and his brother's) mansion facing the beach view. He loved that view; something about the sounds of the waves, the salty taste that's there in the air (A/N I never intended for it to sound so dirty). He was drawing the sky, the clouds, the trees, anything he could set his eyes on. It was nighttime, but Alessio worked best at nighttime; he was like an owl in that matter, also considering since he was an assassin, nighttime was always the best time to strike. 

It was 3:05 in the morning, so imagine his shock when someone calls him. Also, it was an unknown number, and this was his PERSONAL phone. So, he was mad; someone interrupted his peaceful drawing time, and he wanted to throw a tantrum now. (Yeah, he is the father, not the kid.)

"Who the hell is this, and do you know how to read the damn time? How did you get this number?" Well, he didn't exactly say it like it was a question; it was more like a command.

"H-he.l.. Lo S-ir M-my name is Geronimo Stillon. I work with social services. We recently found a boy who is about 4 years old; he doesn't have any records, so we did a DNA test, and it matched with yours, sir." He was rambling like his life depended on it. Knowing Alessio, his life probably did depend on it. He said all of that in one breath, which was quite impressive really. And Alessio was, to put it simply... A mess. Poor guy; I mean, he knew he had a child, but not a son. Oh well, at least now he knows, but Alessio was shocked, stunned. He kind of squealed, but that would ruin his no-emotion reputation, so we are not going to talk about that.

"Where is he?" He demanded and retreated to his cold, I hate the world facade when in reality he hated himself. 

"He is currently at the hospital. Sir, we need you to come in to discuss the next steps. He is right now in surgery; we had to do it without parental consent."

"I'll be there. Keep me updated on his condition."

And now you know why Alessio Bianchi, the 21-year-old, the top assassin on the entire planet, was scared of a 4-year-old.

Alessio got on one of his and his brother's privately owned planes. He had his work to distract him from the thought of meeting his son. But now the nerves were starting to kick in for this 21-year-old man. He met Geronimo, and he told him that his son was abused severely and had signs of abuse. 

And that one word, 

Abuse.

Was enough for him to

 break