Royal Pain

25

I sighed, positioning myself on the bed so I was facing him more. He watched me closely, running his thumb over the skin above the cloth.

"It's stupid really," I muttered, averting my gaze away from him once more. This time he slipped his fingers under my chin, pulling my face up so I had no other choice but to meet his eyes.

"Tell me," he demanded. "I don't care how stupid it is," his voice was the softest I'd ever heard it, and maybe it was the medicine Watson had put him on, but I had a feeling it wasn't.

"Well, Kyle needed a car to bring you here, and so he told me to try and find a car that was unlocked. It turns out that most people are smart and lock their doors, so I broke one of the windows, hence the Frankenstien arm," I let out in one breath, hoping that maybe if I said it now, I wouldn't have to talk about it again.

It was a stupid choice, but I like to believe that it was a stupid choice to help save Vitale Bianchi's stupid butt.

"God, you're such an idiot, tesoro," he breathed, closing his eyes for a moment as his fingers brushed against my skin.

It was silent for a long moment, I couldn't deny his words. Sometimes I am, sometimes he is, sometimes we all are. He held my gaze for a long while before I broke it, glancing down to the bloodied cloth.

"It's good you didn't die," I mumbled, awkwardly.

Good job, Raya. Why don't we see if you could say anything even remotely more awkward? Oh wait, you can't.

He chuckled a soft, hearty chuckle. "I suppose so, huh?" His lips were curled into a sweet smile as he watched me. I shook my head softly at myself.

"I should let you get your rest, I'll see you in the morning," I said, pushing myself up off of the bed. The movement was cut short when Vitale grabbed my good wrist, keeping me in place.

"Stay," he spoke with such certainty, like he always does.

I glanced down to his strong hand that was wrapped around my wrist. Silently, without much more thought, I moved to the other side of the bed, shimmying my sweatpants off and climbing under the covers.

Who in their right mind sleeps in pants?

As I crawled into the bed, settling into my spot, Vitale wrapped his good arm around me, pulling me closer to his side. I rested my head on his good shoulder.

"I'm sorry," it was me who broke the comfortable silence. I felt my heart picking up, I could feel the tears threatening but I tried to keep them at bay. I felt weak, and hated every second of it.

Vitale craned his neck to look down at me. I glanced up to his dark green eyes. "Why are you apologizing, Raya?" He asked, bringing his arm up from behind me and pulling my hair back from my face.

"I shouldn't have grabbed your gun, it was a stupid mistake. If I didn't, maybe we could just be back at the hotel, still going on about that stupid argument," I glanced down, attempting to move my attention elsewhere.

"I think you pulling the gun was the only thing that kept me only a little patched up," he said, complete sincerity in his expression. I furrowed my brows at his choice of words.

I wouldn't exactly call two bullet wounds a little patched up, but then again, Vitale and I's perspective on the whole world, let alone pain, were so completely and utterly different.

An accident to me is forgetting your keys at home, or spilling your drink on a table. An accident to Vitale Bianchi is getting shot. Our worlds were two totally different places, and here I was, wanting to make them coincide and exist as one.