Bad Habits: Chapter Twenty-One
prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - twelve - thirteen - fourteen - fiveteen - sixteen - seventeen - eighteen - nineteen - twenty - twenty-one - …
New parts coming now basically when I remember to post after spiralling for days 🤷🏻♀️
Words: 2919; Warnings: lots of Italian pet names, some gun violence as well, mentions of blood, swearing; Summary: You and Santino can finally catch a breath for a moment;
Readers tag list:
@marytvirgin; @penwieldingdreamer
Chapter 21: “The Unseen Layers”
The day stretched on lazily, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. You had spent the morning reflecting on the conversation with Gianna, her words still lingering in your mind. Santino needed someone. More than he'd ever admit. The idea was both a comfort and a challenge. You had seen the way he kept his distance, how he shut people out, even when there was something more beneath the surface. It was clear that trust was a fragile thing for him—fragile and hard-earned.
The soft murmur of footsteps approaching broke you from your thoughts. You knew who it was before the door even opened. Santino. His presence was unmistakable, the weight of his existence felt in the air, even before he stepped into the room.
He appeared in the doorway, looking as though he’d just walked out of a storm. His jacket was slightly askew, his tie loosened at the collar. He looked tired, his jaw clenched, but there was something else beneath it all. Something you couldn’t quite read.
“Ciao, bella,” he greeted, his voice rougher than usual, the flicker of something soft in his eyes as they locked with yours. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as though the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. It wasn’t unusual to see him like this—distant, almost unreachable—but today, something felt different.
You said nothing for a moment, your gaze steady as you took in his appearance. His usual coolness, the silent armor he wore, felt like it was cracking around the edges.
“Everything okay?” you asked, your voice light, but underneath, the concern was unmistakable. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more he wasn’t saying, and it was eating at you.
Santino straightened up, his lips curling into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Tutto bene,” he said, brushing it off like it was nothing. “Just… business. You know how it is.” He pushed away from the door and walked toward you, his steps slow, deliberate. There was a heaviness in the way he moved, a stark contrast to the easy confidence he usually exuded.
You watched him carefully, your heart beating a little faster, unsure of what to make of the silence that stretched between you. “I’m starting to get the picture,” you said quietly. “Your world... it’s not just business, is it?”
Santino’s gaze flickered to you, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “Non è così semplice,” he muttered, the words almost like a warning. “You don’t know everything, and I’m not sure I want you to.”
The air between you thickened. You could sense the walls rising again, the familiar distance. But this time, you weren’t ready to let them stay up.
“You don’t have to tell me everything,” you said softly, taking a step closer. “But I need you to understand something. I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”
Santino's eyes softened just the slightest bit at your words, but he quickly masked it, his expression turning back to its usual guarded state. “Lo so,” he replied, his voice low. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
You nodded slowly, sensing the weight of his struggle. “I know it’s not. But it’s not about being easy, is it? It’s about trust. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Dici bene, trust…” He shook his head, as though the word itself left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I’ve trusted before. And look where that got me.”
There it was—the edge of the past, the place where the darkness lived. You knew better than to press him on it, but you also knew this was a turning point. You couldn’t let him shut you out now, not when you could feel that the cracks were beginning to show.
“I can’t fix everything, Santino,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “But I can listen. I can be here.”
Santino paused, his eyes meeting yours, searching for something you weren’t sure of. For a moment, there was a flicker of vulnerability, a rawness that he never allowed to show. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, buried behind the walls he had built so carefully over the years.
“Ti ringrazio,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s not enough. Not for me.”
You stepped closer, your heart aching for the man who was so used to carrying the weight of the world alone. “I don’t want to be enough for you, Santino,” you said softly. “I want to be with you. To help you, even if it’s just a little. You don’t have to keep everything locked inside.”
For a long moment, he didn’t speak, his gaze intense as if he were trying to decide whether to let you in or shut you out. Finally, he spoke, his voice raw, almost vulnerable. “I don’t know how to let anyone in anymore, tesoro.”
The soft, affectionate word sent a warmth flooding through you, even as you knew it wasn’t quite what you’d hoped for. “Then let me help you learn. One step at a time.”
Santino sighed, his shoulders dropping as if the weight of the world was just a little lighter. But the look in his eyes told you it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
“Va bene,” he said quietly, his voice gruff. “But no promises. I’m not an easy person to deal with.”
You smiled faintly, a sense of quiet victory filling you. “Neither am I, Santino.”
For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching comfortably between you. You both knew it wasn’t going to be easy, that the road ahead would be filled with challenges, but something had shifted. There was a fragile understanding between you now, a space where trust might just begin to grow.
And as Santino turned to leave the room, his footsteps slow and purposeful, you couldn’t help but feel that despite all the barriers, all the walls, there was a chance—however small—that he might one day let you inside.
The evening settled in slowly, a quiet hum filling the space of the mansion as shadows stretched long across the floor. You sat by the window, watching the world outside fade into the warm glow of streetlights. Your thoughts lingered on the conversation with Santino. There had been a shift, a crack in the walls he had so carefully built around himself. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet. You knew it would take time, and even then, he’d fight it every step of the way.
As the clock ticked past dinner, you found yourself restless, your mind drifting back to the weight of everything. Santino’s world, his past, the dangerous, unpredictable life he led—it all seemed so far removed from your own. And yet, here you were, entangled in it, unsure of where it would take you.
The door to the room opened with a soft creak, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned to find Santino standing there, his presence filling the doorway. He wasn’t in his usual sharp suit tonight, just a dark shirt and pants, the collar of his shirt slightly undone. His hair was a little tousled, as though he’d been running his hand through it all evening. His eyes found yours immediately, and for a moment, there was silence.
“Ciao, bella,” he greeted, his voice low but warm. There was something different in his tone tonight—an edge to it that wasn’t quite there before.
You smiled softly, motioning to the seat across from you. “Hey, Santino. Tutto bene?” You could sense the tension in his posture, the way he lingered at the doorway as if unsure of how to step further into the space between you.
He nodded, stepping into the room and sitting down in the chair across from you. He leaned back slightly, as if trying to find comfort in the simplicity of the moment. “Tutto bene,” he said quietly, his eyes locking with yours. “But… I wanted to talk. Parlare... about what we said earlier.”
You nodded, your heart picking up pace as you braced for whatever came next. “I’m listening,” you said, keeping your tone steady, though you couldn’t hide the curiosity that swirled inside you.
Santino sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to push away the weight of his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he started, his voice carrying the weight of everything unsaid between you. “About… letting you in.” He looked at you, his gaze steady but still guarded. “And I don’t know how to do that. Non so come fare.” He let out a short laugh, though it wasn’t full of humor. More like disbelief. “I’ve been doing this on my own for so long, it feels… wrong to need someone.”
Your chest tightened at his words, the vulnerability in his admission stirring something deep inside you. “It’s not wrong, Santino,” you said softly, your voice gentle but firm. “It’s human. We all need someone.”
He looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, a flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe fear?—flashed in his eyes. “Ma io…” He hesitated, looking away. “I’ve seen what happens when people get too close. People I care about… they get hurt. And I can’t… I can’t let that happen again.”
You leaned forward slightly, your gaze steady on his face, willing him to hear you, to let you in just a little further. “I’m not going anywhere, Santino. I’m not scared of your world. And I’m not scared of you.”
The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. Santino’s eyes searched yours, as though trying to decipher the truth in your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter, more uncertain. “Sei sicura? Are you sure about that? About me?”
You nodded slowly, your heart in your throat. “Yes. I’m sure.”
Santino let out a long breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “I don’t make promises easily,” he said, his voice low and rough. “And I don’t expect anyone to understand everything. But…” He looked at you, the faintest glimmer of something soft behind his eyes. “Maybe… maybe I’m willing to try.”
The words hung in the air, like a fragile thread between you both. And in that moment, you knew that this—whatever this was—wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t going to be neat and tidy, with a happy ending wrapped in a bow. But it was something. A beginning.
“You don’t have to try alone, Santino,” you said softly. “You don’t have to carry all of this weight by yourself.”
He paused, his gaze flicking to the window for a brief moment before returning to you. His jaw tightened as though he were battling an internal war. “I’ve lived my whole life thinking I could do it alone,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time I stopped pretending I don’t need anyone.”
You smiled, a sense of quiet triumph filling you. There was still so much to work through, so much left unsaid, but this? This was a start. You didn’t know where it would lead, but for the first time, you believed there was a chance. A chance that, despite the weight of his past and the walls he’d built, Santino might—just might—let you in.
“Take it slow,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll take it slow. Together.”
He met your gaze again, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, though it was tinged with uncertainty. “Va bene,” he said softly. “We’ll see where this goes. But just so you know, tesoro, it won’t be easy. I won’t make it easy for you.”
You laughed softly, a sense of relief flooding you. “I never expected it to be.”
And for the first time, in a long time, Santino seemed to believe that maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t such a bad thing to have someone by his side.
The night crept in quietly, and the soft hum of the mansion seemed to echo in the spaces between you and Santino. You both sat in silence, the weight of the conversation still lingering, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it was oddly peaceful. He hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t withdrawn, and for the first time, you could sense the possibility of something different between you—something real.
Santino leaned back in his chair, the lines of tension that had been etched into his features earlier now softened. He looked at you with a mixture of something like wariness and curiosity, as if he was trying to decide just how much he could reveal without losing control. It was a careful balance, one he knew all too well.
“You’re not scared, vero?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was a little rough, as though he’d been carrying this question for a while but hadn’t been able to ask it.
You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “Scared?” you repeated, almost smiling at the irony. “Of you? Of this?”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Di tutto. Everything about this life—about me—it's not easy, and it’s not pretty." His voice dropped, the weight of his words sinking deeper into the room. "And I don't want to drag you into it if you're not ready."
You felt a sharp pang of something deep in your chest, the familiar tug of something dangerous that you knew would keep drawing you in, no matter how many times you told yourself it was too much. But there was something in Santino—something raw and real—that made you want to stay. To help. To understand.
“I’m ready,” you said softly, your voice steady, even as your pulse quickened. “I’ve been ready for a while now. Per te.”
Santino’s gaze softened, but there was still that guarded edge to him. “Non è così facile, you don’t understand, tesoro. The things I do, the things I’ve done... they don’t go away. They haunt you.” He paused, his eyes clouding for a moment, like memories were threatening to overwhelm him. Then, just as quickly, he blinked, pushing it all aside. “You don’t need to get caught up in that.”
You shook your head, refusing to let him pull away again. “Maybe I don’t need to understand everything right now, but I want to be there for you. Sei importante per me, Santino.” You said it simply, honestly, the truth of it filling the space between you.
He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away again. But then he leaned forward slightly, his eyes darkening just a fraction. "You know what it means to trust someone in my world, vero?" His voice was low now, more of a whisper than anything else.
You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. “I think I understand. It’s not about just letting someone in. It’s about surviving long enough to trust them.”
A flicker of something passed through his eyes—almost like respect, but with a mix of something deeper, something more guarded. “Esatto. Trust is a dangerous thing in this life. Ma io... I’m not sure I know how to handle someone who might actually be able to break down the walls I’ve built.”
Your heart twisted, a sharp pang of empathy slicing through you. “Then let me try,” you said quietly, your voice almost pleading. “I won’t ask you to change, Santino. I’ll just… be here. When you need me.”
There was a long silence, his gaze never leaving yours. You could feel the weight of his thoughts, the battle raging within him, and for a moment, you thought maybe—just maybe—he was starting to let himself believe that this, whatever this was between you, was worth the risk.
Finally, he nodded once, slowly, as if testing the waters of his own vulnerability. “Va bene,” he said quietly, the words hanging in the air. “But don’t expect me to make it easy for you. Non sarò facile.”
You smiled softly, relieved that he hadn’t shut you out completely. “I don’t expect easy, Santino,” you replied, your tone light but sincere. “I just want to be your someone. No matter how hard it gets.”
Santino’s lips twitched slightly, the briefest hint of a smile, before he wiped it away as quickly as it came. He stood up, the shift in his posture signaling the end of this conversation, though the weight of it lingered between you.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his voice quieter now, less guarded, but still carrying the weight of everything unspoken.
You nodded, feeling the tension still present, but knowing something had shifted. “Goodnight, Santino.”
As he walked out of the room, you sat in the stillness, the quiet after his departure wrapping itself around you like a blanket. There was no illusion that things would be easy, no promise that everything would suddenly fall into place. But there was a quiet strength in his words, a crack in his armor, and for now—that was enough.
Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for tonight, you allowed yourself the smallest measure of hope. Whatever came next, you were ready. Ready to face it by his side, ready to face the unknown together.