[Frankly, he's expecting some form of punishment. Illusions to make him question reality and his own choices, a dagger in his side, being outright tackled, even a slap.... He expects it, and is ready to accept whatever it is. After all, why should he not be lashed out at? Years ago, he and Al promised that they would stick by Faustino forever, until their bones gave way and their flesh rotted. Doing this.... is a betrayal. A breaking of the most important oath.]
[But in the end, the only punishment he receives are Faustino's words, and Ciro closes his eyes. Just words, but they hurt so much. He wants Faustino to wait for him like he's had to wait for Faustino so many times before in the past, to welcome him back. Except that's not their roles in life, huh?]
I'll still be waiting for your call.
[Opening his eyes again, forcing himself to look Faustino in the eyes and face all that rage and despair, he braces himself.]
Because that's what you have to do if you want me, Faustino. I'm yours, from my body to whatever it holds. But waiting here for you while you go do whatever you please, without telling us even when there's a chance you could get into a situation like this...
[A deep breath. He'd be a liar if he said it didn't shake a little bit.]
...I refuse to go through that again. Waiting, oblivious and ignorant, knowing you were being tortured, unable to have helped sooner or even help then because you tell us nothing...
If I stay in Italy, the next time you inevitably do that.... I'm just going to go through that again. I'm going to sit here, wondering what I could have done, torturing myself, all because your pride was too much to call on me from the start.
[Carefully, he pushes himself up to his feet, gaze flickering to where Faustino's hands had clenched so tightly. His fault.... but Faustino isn't without blame here either.]
...But if you call me, no matter when, I'll come. Even away in Japan, I'll still be yours.
All you have to do is call for me.
[He wonders if Faustino's pride will allow him to do even that much.]
Usually Faustino was the one who spoke at great length, who used his words to reassure the others, who made all the decisions. And yet here he was, as mute and unmoving as Ciro normally was, and with a small, quiet sigh, he turned away from his subordinate to look out the window. Those words were beautiful, but how could he trust them when the action were completely juxtaposed to them? ( And yet he knew down to his bones, to his very cells, to his molecules, even if he called ten, eighty, years or lifetimes from now, Ciro would still be there, waiting for him.
Faustino couldn't extend the same courtesy to him, too enraged and hurt and betrayed to even look at him any longer.]
What would you have done, I wonder?
[It wasn't even vanity, but Faustino knew himself the strongest of the three of them, the most clever. Ciro and Al would have hindered him, would have been kidnapped and tortured alongside him.
There are many more things he could say to hurt Ciro further, to take the knife he's used on him and return it a hundred fold to it's owner ( you're replaceable, who would want you, there's no reason for me to call on you- ) but something stays his tongue. He can't be sure what it is, though perhaps he was far more sentimental than he thought.
It didn't stop the ugly, snarling chuckle that wrenched itself out of his mouth at the thought of Ciro still being 'his' while saying these things, and he rounded on the other boy like a viper might a mouse, eyes sharp and narrowed.]
Will you? It seems to me as if you have made your loyalties more than apparent.
[He was tempted to ask just what Ciro had told the Don, but in this moment he knew all the schemes that Ciro and Al were a part of would have to be abandoned, taken apart and buried. He would have to start all over again, and that was just as irritating as being abandoned.]
[To the first question, Ciro can only give a silent shrug, exhausted. What could he have done? He genuinely has no idea. Certainly, Faustino had been beaten, and that's no small feat. There's a good chance that they very well could have just been taken as well, had him and Al gone with.]
[But.... He's not asking for that. Only that they could have been told. Could have been given an idea of when he'd be back, so that they could have recognized things as they happened instead of having the good luck that Faustino's partner for this little venture had cared enough to call him. Had known to call him.]
[He doesn't say any of it. For one thing, arguing with Faustino is many times arguing with a brick wall with a questionable haircut and bad temper. For another... He's already said all he's needed to and, frankly, it's exhausted him. But then, that's how it is, isn't it? It's a good day when he doesn't need to speak, when he can rely on Faustino or Al to make the necessary points.]
[But.... He needed to speak this time. He needed to desperately hope that Faustino would understand.]
[The venom that accompanies his beloved leader and friend's words say that he hasn't, and Ciro doesn't even have it in him to flinch. His gaze is just tired as he looks to Faustino before he turns away to head for the door.]
You'll know my loyalties when you call. [And, so badly, he hopes Faustino does one day.] But, in the meantime.... Please recover well.
[Yet he lingers at the door, hoping to hear something before any phone call, hoping for anything.]
"Are you sure you don't want me to call him, give him a chance to get here?"
Ciro looks exhausted, even as he quietly shakes his head. Lancia can't help feel bad for his charge. It's hard to forget how he'd been the night after he'd spoken with Faustino, dragging his feet into Lancia's room and laying face down on the floor up until the older man had dragged him into the bed. It wasn't something that happened anymore, not usually. When he was younger, sure, it'd been a common sight, but these days Ciro had grown up fine and had medication to prevent whatever was loose in his head from falling apart. That he'd been unable to muster up any energy at all... It hadn't been a good sign.
At least he's standing upright now as the two of them wait in the airport, Ken impatiently taking care of the tickets, but there's no missing the weight in his gaze. Ciro's poker face is usually phenomenal, but... Lancia can't blame him for being too worn down to keep it up.
Him, Al, and Faustino have been with each other for longer than they've been with the Family, with bonds that Lancia had always thought were tighter than God's grip. He supposes that the three of them must have thought so, too.
"If he wanted to see us off, he'd be here already," Ciro confesses quietly, voice quiet even for him. His fingers tighten quietly around the strap of his carry on bag, knuckles showing for a split second before they loosen up in defeat. Lancia suspects that, all up to this point, he's been quietly desperately hoping that he would regardless. "Besides, it won't have any meaning if someone forces him to reach out to us. It has to be his choice." A deep shuddering breath, and Ciro closes his eyes. "So we'll wait for him. For as long as we need to."
For not the first time, Lancia wonders if Faustino knows how good he's got it. There are a whole lot of people in the underworld, even raised in good solid Families, that don't even know the dictionary definition of loyalty. Yet here Faustino is, with two skilled people who would, even now, chop off an arm if only he said the word.
And now they'll be all the way in Japan, furthering connections with the Vongola's tenth generation. At least the work will keep them busy.
It's a little lonely, sending Ciro and Al off, but, at the same time... He can't help but be a little proud. It's Ciro acting on his own, for once, and acting to not only protect himself but try and better Faustino although it's questionable if he'll understand. While the growth has been quiet and subtle, there's no denying it now as he looks over Ciro fondly and reaches over to ruffle his hat. As a look of bewilderment passes over the youth's face, Lancia smiles.
"You two will take care of yourselves, then, right?"
Straightening his hat, Ciro glances back to the lines, where Al is bouncing up as high as he can make it and looking straight over to him. While he doesn't smile, something in Ciro seems to ease up. "Yeah," he agrees quietly, "We'll take care of each other." As Lancia notes the slight change in words, Ciro reaches into his bag and passes over a folded up piece of paper. "When you get back... Can you give this to Faustino? It's the address and new phone number we'll be using. When he decides to use it."
Carefully, Lancia accepts the paper and tucks it into his pocket where it won't get lost. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets it," he promises, although he has a feeling it'll be harder said than done once Faustino decides to get up and start throwing a fit for real over this. Well, a promise is a promise. "Now go on- make sure you don't miss your flight."
For a just a moment, Ciro seems to hesitate, but then Al calls his name and he takes a breath. "Right." He inclines his head. "Then.... Until we see you again." He takes off, then, going to join his partner. They don't even have to look at each other for their hands to join, grips obviously tight even from a distance.... And they only look back a few times before disappearing from sight.
Lancia lets out a breath.
Funny. He never thought Ciro and Al would be the first to leave the nest, but there they go.
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badliifechoiice22016-01-08 10:36 am
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[But in the end, the only punishment he receives are Faustino's words, and Ciro closes his eyes. Just words, but they hurt so much. He wants Faustino to wait for him like he's had to wait for Faustino so many times before in the past, to welcome him back. Except that's not their roles in life, huh?]
I'll still be waiting for your call.
[Opening his eyes again, forcing himself to look Faustino in the eyes and face all that rage and despair, he braces himself.]
Because that's what you have to do if you want me, Faustino. I'm yours, from my body to whatever it holds. But waiting here for you while you go do whatever you please, without telling us even when there's a chance you could get into a situation like this...
[A deep breath. He'd be a liar if he said it didn't shake a little bit.]
...I refuse to go through that again. Waiting, oblivious and ignorant, knowing you were being tortured, unable to have helped sooner or even help then because you tell us nothing...
If I stay in Italy, the next time you inevitably do that.... I'm just going to go through that again. I'm going to sit here, wondering what I could have done, torturing myself, all because your pride was too much to call on me from the start.
[Carefully, he pushes himself up to his feet, gaze flickering to where Faustino's hands had clenched so tightly. His fault.... but Faustino isn't without blame here either.]
...But if you call me, no matter when, I'll come. Even away in Japan, I'll still be yours.
All you have to do is call for me.
[He wonders if Faustino's pride will allow him to do even that much.]
no subject
Usually Faustino was the one who spoke at great length, who used his words to reassure the others, who made all the decisions. And yet here he was, as mute and unmoving as Ciro normally was, and with a small, quiet sigh, he turned away from his subordinate to look out the window. Those words were beautiful, but how could he trust them when the action were completely juxtaposed to them? ( And yet he knew down to his bones, to his very cells, to his molecules, even if he called ten, eighty, years or lifetimes from now, Ciro would still be there, waiting for him.
Faustino couldn't extend the same courtesy to him, too enraged and hurt and betrayed to even look at him any longer.]
What would you have done, I wonder?
[It wasn't even vanity, but Faustino knew himself the strongest of the three of them, the most clever. Ciro and Al would have hindered him, would have been kidnapped and tortured alongside him.
There are many more things he could say to hurt Ciro further, to take the knife he's used on him and return it a hundred fold to it's owner ( you're replaceable, who would want you, there's no reason for me to call on you- ) but something stays his tongue. He can't be sure what it is, though perhaps he was far more sentimental than he thought.
It didn't stop the ugly, snarling chuckle that wrenched itself out of his mouth at the thought of Ciro still being 'his' while saying these things, and he rounded on the other boy like a viper might a mouse, eyes sharp and narrowed.]
Will you? It seems to me as if you have made your loyalties more than apparent.
[He was tempted to ask just what Ciro had told the Don, but in this moment he knew all the schemes that Ciro and Al were a part of would have to be abandoned, taken apart and buried. He would have to start all over again, and that was just as irritating as being abandoned.]
no subject
[But.... He's not asking for that. Only that they could have been told. Could have been given an idea of when he'd be back, so that they could have recognized things as they happened instead of having the good luck that Faustino's partner for this little venture had cared enough to call him. Had known to call him.]
[He doesn't say any of it. For one thing, arguing with Faustino is many times arguing with a brick wall with a questionable haircut and bad temper. For another... He's already said all he's needed to and, frankly, it's exhausted him. But then, that's how it is, isn't it? It's a good day when he doesn't need to speak, when he can rely on Faustino or Al to make the necessary points.]
[But.... He needed to speak this time. He needed to desperately hope that Faustino would understand.]
[The venom that accompanies his beloved leader and friend's words say that he hasn't, and Ciro doesn't even have it in him to flinch. His gaze is just tired as he looks to Faustino before he turns away to head for the door.]
You'll know my loyalties when you call. [And, so badly, he hopes Faustino does one day.] But, in the meantime.... Please recover well.
[Yet he lingers at the door, hoping to hear something before any phone call, hoping for anything.]
no subject
Ciro looks exhausted, even as he quietly shakes his head. Lancia can't help feel bad for his charge. It's hard to forget how he'd been the night after he'd spoken with Faustino, dragging his feet into Lancia's room and laying face down on the floor up until the older man had dragged him into the bed. It wasn't something that happened anymore, not usually. When he was younger, sure, it'd been a common sight, but these days Ciro had grown up fine and had medication to prevent whatever was loose in his head from falling apart. That he'd been unable to muster up any energy at all... It hadn't been a good sign.
At least he's standing upright now as the two of them wait in the airport, Ken impatiently taking care of the tickets, but there's no missing the weight in his gaze. Ciro's poker face is usually phenomenal, but... Lancia can't blame him for being too worn down to keep it up.
Him, Al, and Faustino have been with each other for longer than they've been with the Family, with bonds that Lancia had always thought were tighter than God's grip. He supposes that the three of them must have thought so, too.
"If he wanted to see us off, he'd be here already," Ciro confesses quietly, voice quiet even for him. His fingers tighten quietly around the strap of his carry on bag, knuckles showing for a split second before they loosen up in defeat. Lancia suspects that, all up to this point, he's been quietly desperately hoping that he would regardless. "Besides, it won't have any meaning if someone forces him to reach out to us. It has to be his choice." A deep shuddering breath, and Ciro closes his eyes. "So we'll wait for him. For as long as we need to."
For not the first time, Lancia wonders if Faustino knows how good he's got it. There are a whole lot of people in the underworld, even raised in good solid Families, that don't even know the dictionary definition of loyalty. Yet here Faustino is, with two skilled people who would, even now, chop off an arm if only he said the word.
And now they'll be all the way in Japan, furthering connections with the Vongola's tenth generation. At least the work will keep them busy.
It's a little lonely, sending Ciro and Al off, but, at the same time... He can't help but be a little proud. It's Ciro acting on his own, for once, and acting to not only protect himself but try and better Faustino although it's questionable if he'll understand. While the growth has been quiet and subtle, there's no denying it now as he looks over Ciro fondly and reaches over to ruffle his hat. As a look of bewilderment passes over the youth's face, Lancia smiles.
"You two will take care of yourselves, then, right?"
Straightening his hat, Ciro glances back to the lines, where Al is bouncing up as high as he can make it and looking straight over to him. While he doesn't smile, something in Ciro seems to ease up. "Yeah," he agrees quietly, "We'll take care of each other." As Lancia notes the slight change in words, Ciro reaches into his bag and passes over a folded up piece of paper. "When you get back... Can you give this to Faustino? It's the address and new phone number we'll be using. When he decides to use it."
Carefully, Lancia accepts the paper and tucks it into his pocket where it won't get lost. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets it," he promises, although he has a feeling it'll be harder said than done once Faustino decides to get up and start throwing a fit for real over this. Well, a promise is a promise. "Now go on- make sure you don't miss your flight."
For a just a moment, Ciro seems to hesitate, but then Al calls his name and he takes a breath. "Right." He inclines his head. "Then.... Until we see you again." He takes off, then, going to join his partner. They don't even have to look at each other for their hands to join, grips obviously tight even from a distance.... And they only look back a few times before disappearing from sight.
Lancia lets out a breath.
Funny. He never thought Ciro and Al would be the first to leave the nest, but there they go.
Now to uphold his promise.