ink stained. clouded firmament, drowning in its sudden discoloration. it lays itself on so thickly upon the other's countenance, that it summons the gust of a storm to lash back at the crime lord --- and it cracks like a whip. julien's broken halo shatters in tears. enough, to wet both of their sleeves. their gentle features disappeared --- in the dusk of distorted, horrific gloom to capture them at once. struck by such evident pain, the fluttering of a tiny bruised heart beating in its ribcage, enraged by embers that dared not to erupt nor burn the crime lord. by choice, that was. however much he was surrounded and reminded of all natures of pain --- the innocence and probability of having caused tears to stain ethereal features at his cost, could simply not be cast away by himself. on the contrary, it froze him into his place proper.
his hues sank into julien's, with the urgency of a man, who attempted to decipher a forgotten and foreign alphabet. shock forced itself into his system with a terrifying intensity --- worst of all, unexpected, unwelcome and uninvited ! thus, furrowed brows pull themselves closer by an invisible thread. the crime lord's own confusion, smelled like wrath. ancient and unforgotten --- and apparently therefore, easily to be summoned at the largely ill temper, infecting him in this very moment. what disobedient lack of satisfaction could have possibly birthed such greed to clad monsieur beauchamp ? had he been starved, only to be spared by the crime lord now, against his self indulgence ? whatever it had been, its eminent reaction, rattled open an equally deep, intensifying chasm --- to match tony's.
how easy, it would have been, to renounce the world and all its purity, no matter who was to mirror it towards him. how easy, to soil the other's name in nothing but a selfish notion, to toy with tony's temper ! how many times had he denied such attempts, how often seen them for what they were !
the bird's wing, trapped in his fist twitches against him weakly. this cursed infernal storm of resentment awakening in his chest, fueling his veins --- collapsed, freezing itself motionless. incense laced, the crime lord, a bringer of death --- parts his lips to speak --- but his own mind, still recalibrating, lacks any flow of air to move muscles. behind a locked jaw, mouth closes again, teeth grinding against whatever heavy restraint had brought tony to the complete standstill --- of what had gained the prior shape equal to the violent tearing of earth and soil underneath one's feet.
it seeped in gradually. slowly, slowly at first. tendons of his neck to tense and tighten for the faint blink of a fragmented moment. he had brought his own catastrophic force to an immediate halt --- with one definite look at julien --- that could easily have been dismissed as naught, by a soul unable to acknowledge the depth of one's scarred spirit --- for lack of relation. but who could have dared to accuse tony of such illness --- when it was worn on his skin and his heart alike ? own calloused fingers deliberately loosen, sliding down from its prior bone-shattering pressure. what a brute ! but he does not let go --- and neither does he step back. instead, whatever defensive momentum had settled in the crime lord's heart before, died a slow and forced death first. julien withered, like a parched and starved flower --- its sentiment looking so vulgar --- as if it did not belong to such beautiful a countenance. it broke like mosaic, scattered its pattern through each and every expression, struggling to dawn upon a face, that had renounced the light. who could blame juli, for wincing at feeling the flame melting his marble skin ? their lament broods in a gap so deep and an abyss so dark --- neither word nor touch could have erased it.
in the crime lord's priorly granted dismissal, born out of the same infected wound --- he now saw julien's. bleeding the same colour. foolish, foolish man ! was this not what is hands always did ? it coils, ties his tongue shut in a disgusting force, gradually chaining him into his dazed conscious. this is what you do. this is what you do. and then --- the realization of something much more terrifying than his felt guilt, this guillotine of shame.
julien, like the eclipsed sun. julien, like the sole, lonely crescent moon. unrivalled, by the lesser light of distant stars and collapsing comets. it was true. how by a strange force and gravity, tony, like a tide --- could crash ashore gently, quietly --- within the periphery and pull of such holiness. their light, enough to sanctify his bones. make him believe, that for as long as he could kiss the shore --- that he was free of the cruelty of his violence-born curse. julien had called. and in his own bitter and tainted darkness, tony had refused. in truth. in truth . . . however big the dagger, burying itself in the other's chest --- left its equal gap between the ribs of tony. there, it lay in julien's eyes ! reflecting at him, his own violence.
unbeknownst to him at first --- as most sentiment often got lost on its way, to reach the crime lord's heart. his loose hand travels, hovering above the other's pulse point, before refusing to fully let go --- in his own reluctance. and tony leans in, forehead laced by the faintest layer of salted sweat. the sea clinging to him. whatever veil lifted itself, left tony's eyes to sharpen themselves into full awareness, fueled by his prior, dissolving panic. whatever he let crash ashore this time, rose on his face like agony. like a fault, fatal to survive --- wordlessly rattling his system awake until it would start to stutter, and stutter it did. " hey --- " breathed is his whisper with a voice too heavy, to carry a secret.
his hand travels higher, wraps around the other's slim arm, impatient to not let julien glide out of his hold at all. the noose around his neck wants him choking and wincing on the ground. julien, who filled all the emptiness left in his vacant heart with proudest sums of money. yearning, to put a price, a cost on his curse to release him. just like tony. julien, who could not tell his appetite to slow down. who needed it all. were they not two sides of the same coin ? is that why it hurt, why he felt his own broken spirit spill in front of his feet ? why his grip felt unsteady, almost violating ?
" i didn't --- " their gazes collapse, cross paths. two dying stars --- witnessing each other in the glimpse of a second given. and it renders him speechless again, as if realizing, that prior words could have not done this overwhelming sensation justice. but tony could not find, what he himself knew no language for. so he swallows. starts again. " i didn't mean to hurt you. " quieter. calmer. unoccupied hand's finger curling, to catch the pearl of a tear. long as afternoon shadows are his own. and in his heart, an unconquered storm, quietly suffocating by his hand --- before it could cause any further damage. his frown sinks . . . heavy on scarred countenance. " who am i to call you greedy . . . look at me. " voice dips lower finally, slower, less tense, stripped off its offense. speaks each word with care, like a feather to graze one's skin. his breath hitches. is this fear, tony ? " tell me. was i too harsh ? " as quick as his question had parted with his lips, almost careful, he shakes his crown --- something behind his eyes hardening, like a polished diamond.
the crime lord does not wait for an answer --- instead, brushes julien's final tears away. gently. too gently. if it was not a dagger, it would be his own mercy upon himself to kill him. a sharp shake of his crown, as if concluded, " doesn't matter. " tone flat, hues lower --- tired of his heavy lids. it did not matter. he would do it again. would he not ?
for a second, the grip around julien's arm grows tighter, before he immediately releases them. let's go. steps back. the space between them still so small, so so small . . . and yet, devastatingly vast. his glance washes against juli's face --- like taking something in, not knowing, when he'll get another chance to do so again. when it anchors itself, it's fixated upon the pack of cigarettes on his desk. scarred side of own countenance facing julien now, " you should go. before i remember how to be gentle and forget again. " his clarity cuts. for he did not know, how else to stop the bleeding.