' did i cross the line? ' - lisa lisa
his temper was a fickle thing. a single spark could ignite the dormant rage spilling through the slivers of a shattered heart, triggering an explosive, uncontrollable reaction in response to the wrong word, the wrong tone, the wrong inflection —- it was shameful, and resolving this issue had been a distressing ordeal. his self - control was tested, again and again and again, as his gratitude towards lisa lisa prevented a slew of defensive responses, turning him temporarily mute. the thing was … she was right to question him. each question required an answer, often complicated and painful, forcing his silence where there typically was none. it made him think about his own attitude, why it was there, and how to put it on a leash. anger was a tool, and a powerful one —- it shouldn’t be wasted on nonsense.
alas, the restraint lisa lisa possessed was one caesar never did achieve, aggression and violence inherent to his functioning; tender bruising of the flesh and superficial wounds were the price paid for failure during his delinquent years, and in order to avoid this fate, you had to become the one to distribute this punishment. lucky for him, his competitors feared his passionate hatred, and his unwillingness, or inability, to stop once a fight had begun. splintered bones, torn ligaments, shredded muscles, it didn’t matter. unless rendered unconscious, caesar kept going, kept hitting, and would throw all his energy and effort into winning. and win, he did.
but what good was this to him now, during a training of skill, control, precision and balance? it did nothing but frustrate when, after years of strength and endurance ruling battle, these traits had become secondary. but this training was important. lisa lisa was the perfect tutor, the perfect master. a mixture of reasoning, experience and understanding made her approach and explanations easy to digest and easier to tackle.
so why was it then, when a normal question was asked, that caesar had to grit his teeth, hearing the uneasy straining of bone against bone within his own ears? he knew the answer. any query pertaining his family, or his past, or how he ended up on the streets, was met with sudden stillness. it wasn’t her fault. it never had been.
“ no, master, ” the words were few, but their inflection was humble, quiet. unusual for a boy as bold and outspoken as caesar. “ it’s … complicated, that’s all. ” but it didn’t feel right to leave it at that. lisa lisa deserved his trust. so, from within the infinite walls surrounding his heart, he opened the proverbial door a crack. his gaze, previously fixated ‘pon the grey - white marble tiles of the ground underneath them both, carefully climbed higher, ‘til his own eyes met hers.
“ but, um ... if you really wish to know how i ended up on the streets of rome, i can tell you. ”
