grief, love, hatred
i.
War spares no one. Not when it is between the two reigning crime families of New York, both of them out for blood. The years are fraught with one feud after another: years of partnership bringing the kind of wealth and heights of power that neither could have reached without the other. It is always followed by treachery ; always followed by the sort of bloodshed that neither could have measured. It is a blessing and later a curse that they are raised in a time of peace ; raised side by side – raised to be each other’s shadows. Angelo learns the sound of her laughter before he knows the shape of any other sound. War spares no one but they are young and they have snuck out of a party, stolen his father’s car and a bottle of wine. He hears her laughter in the wind as he lets down the roof of the convertible, speeding down the highway and she leans over to press a kiss against the corner of his lips. War spares no one but in the moment he is sure that they can conquer it.
There is so much joy between them.
ii.
Angelo was raised for war but he is not prepared to wage it so soon ; he is not prepared to wage it in his father’s name. The worst part is not that his father is dead, it is the surprise that comes with the betrayal. They should have known that it was only a matter of time – after all, they had history as witness but he had let himself be blinded by love. He had allowed himself to believe that there was a fate other than violence in store for them. He sees her after the funeral and the look on her face makes him wish that he had never known her. It makes him wish that he never leaves her side - all in the same breath. She wraps her arms around him and he lowers his head to her shoulder, allowing himself to be weak one last time. She tangles her fingers in his hair, pressing him closer and as Angelo wraps his arms around her, he vows revenge in the moment for the wreck she has made of his heart.
There is grief between them.
iii.
Angelo might have won this battle but he looks at her as if he has already lost the war. Duty above love ; that is what he had told himself when he had put a bullet in her brother’s head. It is what he has repeated until the words had become a part of him. The look on her face when her worst suspicions are confirmed tells him that this is where he loses her. The shot she fires at him misses his heart by the barest of inches, burying itself in his shoulder instead and as she leaves him bleeding on the floor she tells him that she won’t miss next time. Angelo knows it is truer than any promise she has ever made to him.
There is hatred between them.
iv.
He knows that sometimes a name can be as good as a declaration of war. He has told himself that it held no power over him any longer but it only takes the space of a single breath to make his defences come crumbling down. It only takes a single moment for him to realize that there will always be a part of him that will hear her name and want to run to her. The very idea of that ignites a rage at his very core, a bone deep need to cut her out of his life – out of himself. He knows that there will be nothing left of himself after her but he thinks it must be better than this cavernous feeling in the centre of his chest. That is what he tells himself when he shows up at the gala she is said to be at. His gaze finds her of its own accord and he’s walking towards her as if pulled by an invisible string, as if he has been lost all this time – waiting to find her again. The song is nearing its end and he smoothly cuts in just as the new one begin. Angelo doesn’t spare her old partner a glance as his hands settle on the curve of her waist. The smirk on her lips is nothing short of a challenge and Angelo rises to meet it as he pulls her closer, his hand splaying across her back.
“You killed two of my men,” he says in lieu of a greeting and though there is anger buried under his words there is a slight hint of admiration concealed behind the words. Angelo barely had a moment to blink before the knife was pressed against his throat, the sharpness of the blade startling against his skin. The look in her eyes was no less savage than the knife she held against his neck, both equally capable of cutting him down. He leans closer, his hand trailing down her back, his lips hovering inches above her own. “I have missed you.”
There is love between them.
one word writing prompts
