september 8th / 5:45pm rafaella’s residence @rafaellacapulet
“let’s get out of here.” he says suddenly, spine straightening and shooting up from his seat with a jerk, body turning to face the girl. “think you and i are long overdue for a vacation, wouldn’t you say? i know this city too well by now - think it’s time for a change. verona’s only got so much to offer us anyways.”
(a lie, and they both know it. their blood runs like the cracks of the sidewalk across the city here, dirt and dust in veins. no one leaves easy, but bodies can pretend to, can pretend that there isn’t a namesake etched in bone. bound duty. bastard thing)
“for a weekend, if anything - you know i can make the most out of a day.” a lopsided smirk, lazy. he rests chins on palms, ever-languid. “i’m tired of all this bullshit - let’s just leave. i can get us train ticket, plane tickets to anywhere by midnight. we’ll have an adventure and stop you from prematurely greying with all your damn restrictions.”
smiles are all mischief, something that promises nothing good, something innocent in its boyish deviousness with hidden teeth. you’d have to be a damn fool to believe that face, but how he makes a career out of them - fools and their foolishness, and how he gets away with it, laughing.
she knows better. always did, and still -
“i’m not taking no for an answer, by the way.” he’s getting up, moving to closets and pulling clothes off racks into fetched bags at random. “i’ll give you some leeway, though - you can choose where you want to go, how does that sound?”