Hurt You - The Weeknd
𝔚𝔚𝔚
Adrik
Decisions.
They define us, they destroy us.
And mine, although done for the greater scheme of things, have proven to be my demise.
I'd gotten to where I am now because I'd made all the right decisions. I'd gotten what I wanted and was hardly ever denied anything because I knew how to make hard decisions.
Decisions that earned me power. Decisions that transformed that power into a weapon strong enough that those subjected to it would kiss the dirt beneath me if I so much as looked at them like I wanted them to.
And when that power was questioned in the slightest, I had to solidify it in the only way I knew how to.
"Kotoryy strelyal iz pistoleta?"
(Russian | Who fired their gun)
The stillness that'd fallen over the room doesn't dare break, but I catch it crack with the flicker of a lone gaze.
Three out of the fifteen positioned outside were carrying guns. Now, as they stand before me in the manor foyer, one stands along the left wall, the other along the right and the third stands to the back of the crowd.
I hadn't seen who'd fired the gun nor was I particularly in the right headspace to have been paying attention to anyone but my wife, but it didn't matter.
Nothing mattered anymore.
Not the plan I'd carefully crafted long before I'd gotten here.
Not how repulsed I'd have been to know that a single being would affect me so much.
Not even the very thing that brought me to America seemed to matter anymore.
They seemed minuscule, nothing but side chores keeping me from the one thing I refused to admit- yet was smart enough to see - I wanted. Something I'd never been looking for, something I didn't even believe existed until someone had taken full control of my every thought, emotion and feeling.
The lone flickering gaze of one of my men moves away from the floor, to the left wall and only when his eyes naturally move to me do mine meet his.
It was rare that any of them looked me in the eye after watching me beat the man they once held to a pedestal of a king, and just as quickly as the gaze of the man with a buzz cut comes, does it slide away.
But it's all the confirmation I need.
My patience has long been worn thin, and it's so bad I don't even have enough to count my steps as I approach her.
I stop a foot away, only to step back when the man next to her steps in my path, far too close for my liking. His eyes frantically bolt up to mine while the crookedness of features stand strikingly similar to hers. "Please, my sister didn't mean any harm-"
His words spoken in a slurred rush of Russian die when his eyes trail to the pistol in my hand. I toss him the collectors item and only when he catches it in his hands do I spare him enough to speak.
I nod at his sister behind him, while my eye's stay glued to his. I knew if I looked at the traitor, I wouldn't see a crooked nose and a face that'd scar children for life. I'd see deceived green eyes, messy black hair and smeared red lips that'd trembled when she flinched away from me.
She'd flinched.
As though my touch had seared a deeper wound than the bullet that the woman standing infront of me had shot.
"Kill her." I tell him, nodding to his sister. I slip my gloved hand in my pocket and find the metallic bulb end of a .22 caliber.
The very same bullet that I'd picked up on my pavement days ago, covered in blood. Its existence, outside and away from my wife was the only thread keeping my temper in check. "But the bullet had only skimmed your wife's foot-"
The bullet in my pocket does very little to suppress the outburst of my ill temper when I reach into the lapel of my blazer, pull out my semi- automatic and fire a single shot through his temple.
His eyes are still open when he falls into the arms of his sister, who stifles her scream, while clutching her brother in her arms.
Despite her petrified and trembling, the sight does hardly anything to tame the anger burning my chest. It only flares when my eyes flicker to her nose and memory of the day I'd caught sight of another slightly crooked, bleeding nose resurfaces.
Celina's had healed. Luckily hers hadn't.
I'd asked her what happened. Deemed it as a coincidence.in an attempt to let it go, but ultimately knew that I didn't believe in coincidences.
And so, with a simple step back, I slip my gun back in its place, watching the stress lines on her face soften enough in belief I'd let her off.
When I speak it's to the room. "Cut off her hands for lying to me."
The calmness in my voice must be what scares her enough to drop the dead weight in her arms and run. But unlike the last person who'd run from me, I didn't care if this one lived or died.
She doesn't make it far. Not when a few more of my people grab her by the arms and drag her back towards me, screaming and pleading for her life.
It bores me.
"Is that all?" I look to my left where Dima now stands, watching the woman nearly rip out her own long blonde hair.
Naturally, my gaze drifts up to the chandelier twenty feet above us all, "Hang her." My eyes drift back down to hers. "Use her dried up hair to do it."
My request carries the weight an order from a king would, and I merely stand back and watch.
I'd usually end her pathetic life with a bullet to the head. It'd be clean, simple, fast. But I wanted her to suffer for even thinking she could touch mine and get away with it. For believing that she had.
I stay to watch. Relish in her screams and pleas as all the people she'd once believed to be her family turn on her. Aid in her demise.
Her blood stains the floors, but I have people cleaning as they go. Her pained shrieks grow annoying, but they soon die into choked sobs as my people manage to heed to my orders.
It's a feeling I'd grown to find comfort in. To crave so much that I'd gone to such extremes to gain more of.
Having to speak a simple command and watch as they did everything in their power to adhere to mine. The power of it all was what kept me going. Kept me wanting more.
But as I watch the scene unfold, the feeling flatlines and my vision blurs into a state of nothingness, until all I can feel is my insides caving in while my pockets sink down, heavy with my past mistakes.
One pocket weighted down by a bullet, the other a diamond.
The solitude is not foreign, but the sudden distaste for it is. I use to crave seclusion, now, I find myself wanting nothing more than to feel the pinch of annoyance that came with a rude remark. An inappropriate joke. Dark humor sparking in emerald eyes, amusement twitching from red lips.
Instead I'm left with a power that feels worthless.
A feeling that only intensifies as my focus comes back to the scene before me, only to be stolen by Feo, who sounds slightly distracted by the hanging soon to be corpse. "They're.... They're here again."
My patience dissolves, my footsteps carry me towards the front doors and when I step outside the sight of the black van pisses me off.
I'd had the people at the gate shoot the men they sent yesterday, beat the ones that'd come the day before to a pulp. And I'd threatened the ones that'd shown up the day before that.
I was going to kill this man and send him back to Silvio in a body bag.
I don't realize Feo's joined me outside until he speaks, his voice weary as he eyes my hands reaching for my gun. "Silvio Ademaro's errand boys are not welcome here."
Not only would I kill this man, but I'll kill the guards at the gate for eating up his bullshit enough to let him through.
"I'm not here on his orders." His face isn't stoic, and I can read him like the little bitch he is, but my response dies at his. "She'll be pissed if I'm not back in one piece."
My gun feels useless, so I slip it back to its place, and instead, rely on my gloved hand as I wrap it around his neck and squeeze, slowly watching the life drain from his shit colored eyes.
Silvio's had his men come by for her grandmother every day for the past three days. And each time I refused to let her Sitto go. She was the only thread I had left to her. If she wanted her grandmother back, she could come get her, instead of sending me this self obsessed prick.
He was practically asking to die.
He splutters, until eventually he chokes out his words. "We-we're family!" My fingers loosen enough to let him speak, knowing that where she's concerned I can't help but listen, "I... use to... take her grandmother to all her doctors appointments-"
All his response tells me is that she trusts him.
She fucking trusts him.
My hand tightens around his neck and I squeeze until bone stops me. "Family. How."
Family could either mean he worked for Silvio and wanted nothing more than to secure a high rank for himself through her, or family as blood related.
The latter would keep him alive, the former would make his death all the more painful.
"Her cousin!" He manages, I loosen my hold, "I'm her cousin."
Despite wanting nothing more than to watch him die, I let go and step back, forcing indifference. "If she wants her grandmother, my wife can come to me herself."
He clears his throat and tries to string together a useless collection of words, "Celina Ademaro—Ayad wants-" He corrects, I don't let him finish.
I regret letting him go unscathed. "Celina," I step towards him, using every physical advantage I have to the shorter man in screwing with his insecurities. "Kozlov-Ayad." I correct.
He inches back towards the car, where he reaches inside and pulls out a white sheet. "About that..." i look away from the forced confidence in his steps and focus on the envelope, my attention completely consumed by the scribbled ink on the white surface.
The moment its in in my hands, I can't seem to care about anything else. About how he rushes into his car and drives off as though scared what's inside might set me off. About Feo's curious glance.
Adriko.
I recognize her hand writing from the brief glances I'd caught in the past. Messy with lazy strokes of ink as she bunches the letters of my name on the page as though she's in a rush to get rid of me.
Tension pulls tight all over and only when I open the envelope, pull out the stack of papers does a doom I'd been feeling all too much these days intensify.
I don't know what's worse, the fact that she couldn't hand me divorce papers herself, or how she'd sent a lying prick to do it for her.
I soon realize neither is worse than the scribbled way she'd signed the papers.
Celina Ademaro-Ayad.
Despite having read the Cambridge dictionary at the age of twelve, there were no fathomable words to describe this feeling that'd been plaguing me these past few days.
It was beyond hurt. Past doom.
It made torture look bearable. Pain desirable.
"So.... there really is no going back now." I try to ignore Feo's voice, but when I do, all I'm aware of is the heaviness of my breathing, the shakiness of my fists and the need to burn everything in my path.
"There is." My words are stiff.
I wasn't letting this go. Nor was I ever going to let her go.
. . .
Desperate times call for impulsive decisions.
I hadn't thought this through, nor did I have anything planned.
It was an uncharacteristically impulsive decision made in a haze of hopelessness.
I'd gotten in my car, and drove. While doing everything in my power to ignore every deeply engrained trace of her.
Her lipstick tossed on the console. The scent of her perfume soaked into the leather seats. Her half empty soda, her lipstick smudged into the straw.
It was almost as impossible as staying away.
I'd tried. Tried to give her space since I'd gotten too carried away in forcing her to stay. But the night had turned to day and by the time the clock struck twenty four hour since I'd last seen her, I'd already begun the descent into madness.
It began with a simple call, then another and another until she blocked my number.
It continued with a text from my new number, then another, and another until she blocked that one too.
It ended when I got into my car and drove until I was parked outside a brick townhouse in upscale Manhattan, tens of feet away from where I knew she slept.
It'd been four days since I'd seen her, three nights spent parked outside her street, two minutes wasted in my car, trying to calm down and one signature to throw my restraint to shit.
I was going to see my wife.
The doorbell rings, and seconds, minutes pass before I'm given any sort of indication that my presence is known. But judging by the cameras planted on the wall that shift to me, Silvio knows I'm here.
My hypothesis is proved correct when the door opens four minutes later and I'm greeted by an unwelcoming gaze and a line of backup.
The envelope I hold up washes away whatever bullshit he's about to spew. But when he reaches for it, I hold it up and out of his hold. "I want to see her first."
The Italian turns into a red tomato. "Absolutely not."
Comical, I wasn't asking.
"No wife, no signature." My indifference is entirely a ruse, led by the motivation that comes with getting to see her. "Let me in or you'll be hearing from my attorney in the morning to dispute the terms of this agreement."
Silvio's features pull tight, the lines on his forehead pinching until he gives up. "No backup allowed."
"Don't need it." I hadn't brought any.
"No guns either." I nod, while he looks suspicious with my immediate agreement
. Unlike him and his men, I didn't rely on weapons. A gun was merely an accessory, not a necessity. When provoked, I could do far more damage without it.
He looks at me wearily, perhaps to stall me. And annoyance bubbles at the thought, while anticipation begins to eat at me like the hallucinations of food to a starved man.
I raise a brow and look down to my clothes. "You want my thousand dollar suit too?" I'd spent fifteen thousand dollars on this suit, and had all my others ones not been ripped to shreds, I'd happily oblige if it meant getting to see her.
But I use the statement in a deeply ironic manner. Something that also doesn't sound quite like me.
Silvio Ademaro blinks, seemingly taken aback by my statement before he sombers up and lets me into his home. "You'll drop your weapons off in my office before going anywhere near her."
His insinuation doesn't just peeve me, it makes me want to hit him upside the head, until that pea sized organ in his skull learns to function properly. But I refrain, knowing that he's trying to get a reaction out of me.
And maybe, I deserved that.
I follow after him, down the hall past lived in rooms of the home, only pausing when we reach his office which he begins to unlock.
I turn away from the man, ignore his entourage eyeing me like I'm an explosive bound to detonate any second now and glance past an archway into the living room.
The rooms decorated with creams, golds and oversized lived in furniture. It's messy, the curtains are drawn back making way for the setting sun and trees of the backyard to filter through the floor to ceiling windows, while movement beyond them immediatly catches my eye.
Space stills. Time slows. And the stars seem to all align as I catch sight of dark hair catching the outdoor breeze, golden skin, tinted in a hue of orange from the sunset, and a half smile that's subtle in its deviousness but obvious enough to bring any man to his knees.
And like an electric current, the sight of her sets off my entire body.
A hundreds meters and a glass door separates us but even the glimpse is enough to make my shitty reality fade and stretch this moment until it lasts forever.
I can only see half her face, it's merely a glance from afar, but it's the oxygen to my fire. The water to my dying thirst. The heaven to my Lucifer.
But much like Lucifer, my fall from heaven is nothing but destructive and fast as I take note of her surroundings.
She's not alone on the patio. And it's not the tiny head of brown hair sitting adjacent to her that ruins the moment. It's not even the smiling man standing far too close to her to set her plate of food down. It's the smile that I'd just spent minutes that'd felt like hours lost in, aimed his way.
"He's good for her." I feel Silvio come to a standstill beside me, but my attention is forced at the scene unfolding. I recognize the man from earlier when he'd handed me the very papers in my hand.
"Luca's father is an old family friend." Self assurance fills his voice. "He's a good kid. Respects our customs, knows how to treat women. You've got competition-"
One single glance from me makes him stop. With a small, seemingly harmless laugh, the man opens the door to his office and motions for me to slip inside.
The chances of me blowing his head off without causing a scene are far too slim to risk, and with extreme difficulty, I turn away from her and follow Silvio into his office.
"Competition would imply we're equals." I slip my gun from my waistband and toss it onto his desk, while he watches me carefully as I reach for my other gun. "I own an empire, have an army and posses more skill in my left hand, than you could ever fathom."
This time I toss my gun to him, watching as he scrambles to catch it. It calms me enough to continue, reaching down to grab the knives shoved into my shoes. "You wouldn't be able to compete with the dirt beneath my shoe." I fist the knives and drop them carelessly onto his desk, watching as they scatter onto the floor, making a mess.
And only then do I lean over his desk and tilt my head at him. "What makes you think your errand boy would stand a chance?"
"Luckily, that's not your choice to make." He snaps, collecting my weapons and handing them to one of his men, "It's my daughters." And when he motions for his men to leave us alone, I take the opportunity to look around the space.
Dark wood, and family portraits line the walls. While his desk sits in the middle of the room. I walk towards it, as though this place has been mine. "Your daughter craves power and influence." I don't take a seat in his chair, but I examine it, nudging my foot against the cheap leather. His chair was far too small to fit me comfortably. "How does it make you feel that I can give her something you can't?"
I was never a fan of competition. Not when I could so easily take what belonged to me.
Celina was mine and would remain mine even in death. No one would get in my way and live to tell the tale.
When he remains silent, I know I've won. "Now," My words sharpen when I turn towards him. "Get me my wife before I grow bored of being so cooperative."
He storms out, slams the door and I relish in his anger, while I force down the anticipation and seek out every photo Silvio has of her in his office.
There aren't many, but I find most stored behind a locked cabinet.
Most are from her childhood, where she stands as a scrawny little girl, dressed in clothes a little boy would wear, but it's all forgotten in her wide smiles. In some she's got braces, in others, she's with a woman so strikingly similar to her, it's evident where her beauty is derived from.
The door behind me softly opens, I pause and drop the broken lock from my hand, only when I turn does disappointment like I've never felt crash into me.
Sabrina Ademaro shifts uncomfortably, "I-I didn't tell my dad you called me, the maid found my phone and went through it-"
Impatience coats my grit out response as I eye the closer door behind her. "I don't care."
She goes quiet and the anxiety dripping off her feeds my impatience at the thought of coming face to face with the woman who had permanently engrained herself into my mind.
"I-I didn't find anything about your sisters conversations with my father," That draws my attention back to her, "Or why he decided to let her go."
Useless. I'd risked and lost everything over something that'd proved to be utterly useless to me.
And despite logic telling me to get to the bottom of my sister's involvement with Silvio Ademaro before it's too late, I can't think straight.
Not when all my mind veers to is the woman I'd grown mildly obsessed with.
More silence lingers when I don't bother with a response. But instead of leaving, she lingers. "She's meaner than usual-"
A silent sigh escapes my lips when I realize she's not going to stop talking, I make my way towards the door, done waiting for their inept father. "Go cry about to it someone else."
"What I mean is-" she cuts herself off with a frustrated sigh, "I think you... broke her heart."
I stop at the door, something loud beats in my ears, but the room is still, the space silent.
"My pàpa hates you because he really loves her." I don't feel pity for her at all, but I do stay to hear what she has to say because it's about her. "And she just hates everybody because they all lie to her."
"And- My pàpa lying." My fist tightens around the doorknob and when I pull it open, I stop to hear her last words. "She doesn't like Luca. He tries to please her, though, and she takes advantage of it."
The knot in my chest loosens a smidge, it's enough for my lips to twitch at the thought.
That's my girl.
I leave Sabrina Ademaro there without another word, and walk out into the living room just as Silvio shuts the patio door behind him and walks inside, but my eyes are already behind him on her.
I'm about to pass him and reach for the door when he opens his fucking mouth. Positioning himself as the wedge between myself and who I want. "They're going to be arranged to be married. Hand over the signed papers if you want her to be happy."
I clutch the papers in my hand, as though it's all I can do to stop from swinging. "She'll be happy with me." Despite the tension, determination costs my words.
The old man scoffs. "Your sister told me you vowed never to have kids."
My hands suddenly feel weightless as I set the papers down and drag my eyes away from the woman eating to her piece of shit of a father. "Celina wants kids and Luca can give them to her." He steps towards me, getting too comfortable with pushing me. As though we're equals.
We were far from it.
He fails to realise it and perhaps, needs a reminder.
"Maybe they'll try surrogacy. He'd make a good father, and if she's anything like her mom, she'll be an amazing mother-"
I hit him.
His head veers back, his nose gives a crack. But it's not satisfying enough, not until I step forward grab his blazer and throw him into the coffee table.
Glass shatters around him, but all I see is a deep crimson. And suddenly I regret not killing him when I had the chance.
Commotion breaks around me, but I'm focused on the object of my rage. The reason behind my misery.
He'd taken her away from me and thought he could taunt me.
"What the..." and it's only that voice, strong and so familiar that pulls me from my rage and towards the woman suddenly standing mere feet from me. "Fuck?!"
I turn and like a planet to its sun, my gaze pulls towards her and when our eyes meet, time becomes a useless and endless construct.
It all suddenly makes sense, the misery, the indescribable feeling, the other one in my chest. The weight of the overwhelming emotions clear until it's so painstakingly obvious that I'd missed her.
It's a delirious high so obscured, I don't care that she's glaring at me. "Why are you here?"
"You wouldn't see me." I step closer, my voice hoarse and like the most euphoric of addictions, I can't help but take it all in. "So I came to see you."
Black hair. Red lips. Emerald eyes.
"So you decide to barge into my home?" It's not the outrage that makes me narrow my eyes but her choice of wording.
I give my head a light shake, my gaze intense. "This isn't your home."
She doesn't offer a response and I find myself looking for any tell that she'd been suffering a fraction of the misery I'd been, but I find none.
She stares at me, blankly. Like she doesn't care.
I inhale, and speak on a single exhale, "A moment with you alone is all I want."
She wears lounge shorts and a tank top, her body language every bit relaxed here and I despise her ability to be so okay without me.
"No."
I should leave. I should respect her decision.
She doesn't want to see me.
But in doing so, I'd let her slip farther away from me. And the thought makes my hands feel clammy and the room too small.
My eyes dart down to her thigh where the youngest Ademaro has his hand curled around the smallest part. I hadn't realised it sooner, but now, it's clear he's taken a liking to her.
She doesn't flinch from the kids touch, nor does she seem uncomfortable with him. While his eyes, beneath the glasses strapped to his head flicker in panic between his father and I.
I look from the kid, to Silvio and finally to her. "Then I won't stop."
My implication is clear.
She narrows her eyes, seeming to have followed my gaze because her shoulders tense, and her hand twitches. As though she wants to reach for the little thing at her side but thinks better of it. "Threatening to scar a child for life to see me is an all time low don't you think?"
I merely glance away from her to look at her foot, bandaged up from where the bullet had grazed her. "I've done worse." I murmur.
Eventually, with an annoyed huff, she gives in, squatting down to his height, "Go lock yourself in your room before he turns into a wolf and tries to eat you."
The young Ademaro's face pales, and then his little feet click in uneven steps as runs away from me until he disappears.
I don't take my eyes off hers. "Everyone but my wife out."
I don't care to check if they've obliged, I know that from the silence that falls between us minutes later, it's just us.
My guard drops and I feel like shit, while she looks so Goddamn perfect. She's unaffected as she shifts her gaze to the envelope I'd set down on a nearby surface.
She grabs them and before she can open them, I speak. "I'm not signing them." I ignore her hard demeanor and step closer to her. Lowering my voice, "We're going to finish what we started."
"I don't need you anymore." Closed off and brutal, my wife crosses her arms over her chest.
I step impossibly closer to her, and my hands shake. So much that all I can do to stop them is reach out and touch her.
"I know." I rasp, my fingers thread into her hair, while the dark strands fall over my skin like expensive silk. I can't seem to look away. "I still need you."
Our proximity is a high I'd been denied for what feels like years, and for a moment I bask in her.
She smells different. Like I have yet to drown in the new scent of her. But she still feels like mine.
That is until she pulls away from me and pulls out the papers, flipping to the blank space I have yet to sign.
I cut her off before she starts. "The papers are invalid, anyways." Confusion penetrates her gaze, with grit teeth I clarify. "You didn't sign with your legal name."
She was legally still a Kozlov. Not an Ademaro.
My wife looks just as annoyed if not more than me. And with tense movements she steps infront of me, plucks the pen from inside my breast pocket and uses my chest as a surface to cross out her previous signature, and replace it with a valid one.
She pulls away and holds the sheet up to my face. "You fucking happy now?"
"Ecstatic." I snap, yanking the papers from her hands, and ball them up into a mass of useless words.
She nudges my chest in retaliation. "Good, now let me have my grandmother back."
I don't hesitate with my response. "Then come back."
"No." She tries not to raise her voice but fails and instead sarcasm drips from her tone. "Is there anything else you want? Perhaps my fucking left arm too?"
"Tell me how to fix this all." My response angers her, but her attention moves to my hand that grabs her wrist on my chest as I rub my thumb in a circle around her palm.
The skin is beyond soft and delicate, such a perfect contrast to the bite in her words. "You can't."
"Ask me anything." I bring her palm to my lips and murmur against her skin, "I'll tell you everything."
Desperation reeks from my near plea, but I can't breathe as the sudden possibly of rejection comes crashing down.
I craved her.
If it wasn't her sarcastic remarks, it was her smart mouth. If it wasn't touch it was the warmth she provided when she was against me. "I'm sorry." I admit, it's neatly above a whisper against her soft skin, before I place a kiss against her palm.
"You will be."
I pull her palm away from my mouth and slowly draw her into me. "I already am."
Her jaw remains locked. "About which part?"
When she lets me draw her close enough, I drop my forehead to hers and ghost my thumb over her lips. "All of it,"
I'd made a lot of mistakes. She had every reason to hate me.
But I couldn't loose her.
She remains silent, tense against me, but I don't let it deter me as I nudge my nose with hers, relishing in how good she feels close to me. "If you want me to drop to my knees and beg, I'll fucking do it, baby." I don't realize I'm breathing loudly until I watch my rapid chest brush her still one. "I'll do anything."
And what terrified me was just how true those words rang. There wasn't a line I wouldn't cross if she asked me to, a sin I'd refuse to commit.
I don't believe I truly feel what true regret feels like, until she detangles herself from me and turns away as though she can't even bare to look at me.
I look at her though. Despite how much it fucking pains to watch her turn away, I can't look away. Her parting words don't help. "And yet, it's not enough."
I don't move. I don't even have the energy to pretend I'm calm. Indifferent. Fine.
I'd been a man that got what he wanted and settled for nothing less. She was a woman that'd managed to destroy that notion with one sentence.
It feels like a catastrophe, like I'm watching my home burn to the ground, while paralyzed to my spot in the middle of it all. But most importantly, it feels like I'm truly and utterly fucked.
Fuck.
𓆩❤︎𓆪
What do we think?
-
Okay guys I watched My life with the Walter Boys and like don't get me wrong, there were so many things that needed work, and it was def cringe but like I couldn't stop watching it. (The only thing I couldn't fucking handle was ALEX 's character.)
Ngl I'm surprised ppl r saying it's the SHITTY Version of TSIP..... Like did we all not watch the same 2nd season 😭 I FORCED MYSELF THROUGH S2. NO WAY PPL R SAYING MLWTWB IS WORSE.
It might not be better but it's def not worse. Come onnnnn
DONA (from suits / the mother from Walter boys) single handled made the show better than the summer I turned pretty ( season 2). I JUST LOVE HER SM.
BUT IF U WANT A RLY GOOD SHOW WITH A HOT HOT HOT SO MF CUTE MAN WATCH MIXTE /VOLTAIRE HIGH (on prime)
U have to watch it in French w/ English subtitles tho. (Or don't). There's only 1 season and I DESPERATELY WANT A S2 SO WATCCH IT PLZ
And if u do let me know what u think. I'm not done yet but so far it's so good and Jean-Pierre is just 🧎♀️
Also if u have show recommendation send them. I need something to watch while I rot in bed Christmas break ❤️