ANGELOS POV.
By the time I was back home, I was completely exhausted.
Still angry, but exhausted.
I looked up as I walked inside, not expecting to see Mercury sitting at the counter, eating a brownie.
We both looked at each other as I closed the door.
She looks tired still.
"I figured that since I said I was going to bake, I should actually do it." She said quietly, motioning toward a very large plate of brownies.
"It's almost ten at night."
She shrugged. "It's been a really weird day."
I nodded. "It has."
We were both silent for a few more moments.
"Do you-,"
"Are you-," We both said at the same time.
"You go first." I said.
She gave me a look that said 'I'm sorry.'
"Bad news or worst news first?"
Oh god. What now? I thought the worst part was over.
"Worst news I suppose."
"I-I don't really remember a lot of what happened. I just remember thinking Warren was in the room, and then freaking out, and then crying myself to sleep on you."
I sighed.
One thing at a time.
"I've been talking to a hell of a lot of psycho-analytical people."
"And?" She braced herself.
"Based on what I was able to tell them over the phone, they all think that you have Post Traumatic Stress and Anxiety." I said quickly, still not liking how it sounded.
Mercury furrowed her eyes.
Then un-furrowed them.
And then groaned before putting her head in her hands.
"I'm a basket case."
"You're not a basket case. You're just- you've lived through a lot."
"They're going to put me in a psych ward."
"They're not going to put you in a psych ward."
"They're going to give me a lobotomy because I see my dead step-father, who happened to be killed by my actual father, who I happen to see more as a best friend than I do a parent."
Lobotomy?
"Mercury, where did you see that people were still giving people lobotomies?"
"Doctors are going to stick one of those ice pick things in my eye and hammer it down." She continued groaning, her voice becoming muffled as she set her head down on her arms.
This kid.
"Alright drama princess, calm down." I walked over to her.
"I can't even keep a hair tie for two days straight, and now a piece of my brain is going to be taken out!"
"Ok, well, first of all, why would I ever let someone come near that mind of yours? And second," I took the spare hair tie that I always kept on my wrist in my teeth. "There's always going to be a hair tie for you around. Everyone knows by now to keep at least two on them." I gathered her hair into a messy bun.
"Thank you." She continued to muffle her voice by keeping her head down.
"You're welcome. Again, you're not going to a mental hospital. And believe me, if they decide that you need to go, fuck that, I'm going with you and we can call it a vacation."
"That sounds not as bad."
"I know. But it was recommended that you start going to therapy sessions, so you have your first one when we get back."
She peaked an eye out. "What if I slip and say that the scary looking guy outside waiting for me is-you know, kind of a psycho? In a good way. Twisted, but good."
"I've already narrowed down the best psychologist there is that I could find. She and her husband are known for working on the children of some of the worst criminals out there, so she's promised to keep her mouth shut because she's never seen a case like this, and would love to learn more about a mafia kids mind."
She also has a vast history, so that'll be on the line too if she fucks up.
"That sounds really expensive."
Expensive?
"Do you remember that card I gave you that you never use?"
"Yeah."
"Have you checked your balance?"
"No."
Oh she's gonna be pissed.
"Don't."
"Why can't I check-,"
"You said there was more bad news?" I changed the subject.
She sighed. "Yeah. Over the past couple of weeks, I've noticed that I can barely see anything that's further away."
Fuck.
"You're joking right?"
She shook her head. "I wish. I've been straining my eyes so much it's giving me a headache."
Damn it.
"Hold on."
I walked to my bedroom, opening the closet and grabbing an old box.
"Here." I set it in front of her. "Your grandmother has forced me to keep every pair of glasses I've ever had incase of an emergency."
I guess I owe her an apology for all these years.
"Woah."
"Yeah. Woah. I need a shower, try to find a pair that works."
I was pretty gross and smelled like a burning building, so a shower was nice to have.
As soon as I got out of the shower, I heard a teenage girl yell before screaming, "Angelo?! How do you delete money from a bank account?!"
I told her not to do it.
"By spending it!" I yelled back.
"God, there should be a donate button!"
"What did you expect? It's literally silver and black!"
"I don't know, I thought they ran out of regular ones!"
Only she would want less money in a bank account, I swear to god.
"Were you able to find a pair that worked?" I walked out of my room.
"Yeah, but I definitely I'll need something less blue."
Ok, so her vision isn't that bad yet.
"Those glasses were the first pair I ever-," I finally looked at her.
Oh my god.
"What are you smiling at? Don't smile like that, you never smile like that. Do I look that weird?" She looked me up and down as if I were somehow silently threatening her with a smile.
"You don't look weird."
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
"Tilt your head a little bit."
"What are you trying to prove-,"
Oh my god.
"Oh my god, I finally see it." I crushed her into me. "I created my fucking mini-me."
"Everyone has literally said this. Like twice per person."
"Shh, let me have this."
I couldn't fucking stand that I never really saw that much of a resemblance between us.
Sure, same eyes, same attitude.
But seeing her with those damn blue glasses on, she was definitely my twin.
Finally. Fucking finally.