One minute, he was putting post it notes in Jimmy’s house (god, he really needed to get a new hobby).
The next, he was suffocating. The world was dark, walls were closing in around him – he was clawing at wood, then clawing at dirt –
His hand hit air and then he was being pulled up, and Cassia was there and embracing him and she was so warm…
Why was he so cold? He was shivering and coughing and choking on dirt but he was laughing too, because holy shit –
Had Cassia brought him back?
How, how –
You know what? He wasn’t going to fucking question it, in case this was all a dream and he might be wasting it by wondering about the hows and the whys.
The witch was caressing his hair, combing out some of the dirt – and he was still caked with blood, if he shut his eyes he was back in that dark room with the angry Godfather and the mafioso and his time was up.
But vengeance wasn’t the first thing on his mind. Far from it.
The first thing on Sorin Florescu’s mind was joy, and love, and…he just clung to his girlfriend, tears leaking from his eyes and laughter still bubbling. This was insane, he was nuts – surely this wasn’t possible?
But her sweet murmurs, her warm arms, the kiss to his forehead – it was real, it was all real, and he was going to go home with her and…he wasn’t going to worry about the mafia, for now.
…He’d definitely earned a vacation.
@ask-a-tos-witch