Chapter XXIV: Vulnerable

The room was bathed in darkness as both the inhabitants lay with their backs to each other. The pitter-patter of raindrops being the only sound accompanying the slow breathing of the two, despite the breaths being heaved in slow rhythmic successions; neither of the two was asleep. Neither could sleep. And neither knew the other was awake. 
Arcangelo's heart ached and his head pounded, one thought repeating itself in his mind, "leave, leave, leave". While Arcangelo fought with himself, Rosalie's mind raced with every single word that had been uttered through the day. Her mind reeling and absorbing everything, unable to comprehend the suffering and pain this large stoic man had been through. 
The sudden shifting behind her, had Rosalie jolted back to the current, looking over her shoulder, she noticed Arcangelo sitting up in bed, his legs heaved over the edge as he sat with a tense back before suddenly standing up. 
"Can't sleep?" Rosalie called out noticing the faint outline of his physique in the dark just standing motionless. "How about something warm, it might help you sleep." 
"It's okay," Arcangelo spoke lowly, seemingly shaking his head. "I wouldn't be able to sleep anyways. Go back to sleep." 
"Don't be silly, I'm going to stay up with you." 
"No, Rosalie..." He trailed as she got out from beneath the covers, turning on her lamp as she momentarily remained seated before standing up, pulling on a cardigan over her shorts and t-shirt. "Rosalie..." 
"The weather looks beautiful," She spoke dismissively as she peeked from behind the curtains. "Join me on the terrace?" 
Without waiting for a response she pattered outside her bedroom and into her lounge. Pulling apart the curtains, she pushed open the glass double doors as a cold gust of wind blew back in her face, a shiver going through her. Rubbing her arms, Rosalie pulled the cane chairs beneath the shade, relieved to see them dry before settling on one of them, her knees pulled up to her chest as she breathed in the petrichor, allowing it to engulf her mind as a small smile played its way onto her lips. 
After a few silent minutes, Arcangelo came and joined her as well; settling in the vacant chair and lighting a cigarette, inhaling deeply before blowing the cloud into the rain. They sat in silence, Rosalie with her arms around her knees and Arcangelo quietly smoking away his lungs, both of them allowing the silence to elongate between them with the only sound being that of the rain against pavement and the distant rumble of thunder accompanied by sporadic strikes of lightning. 
"You thought you'd leave in the middle of the night once I was asleep," Rosalie whispered gently. Not asking, not uncertain, but stating. 
Arcangelo's movements faltered for a moment as the words swam through his mind. 
"That was the plan." He admitted after a silent pause. Knowing there was no point in lying considering that she knew what he had in mind. 
"But little did you know I wouldn't sleep," 
"I had my suspicions..." 
A humorless chuckle escaped her lips as she ran a hand through her disheveled hair, having tossed and turned for hours on end before giving up. 
"Don't you like this?" 
"Like what?" 
"You and me? What we have? Us?" She clarified as her stomach churned in discomfort, finally lowering her legs to the ground as she watched the side of his face, noticing how he was deliberately extending the poisonous inhale in order to stall for time. 
"I do." He finally spoke after doing away with the excess ash. "That was the main reason I told you because I wanted you to know everything before we progressed. I didn't want the foundation of our relationship being past secrets." 
"Then why were you planning on leaving in the middle of the night like some dirty robber?" 
"Because..." 
"Because of what, Arcangelo?" Rosalie demanded gently, sitting on the edge of her chair now as her entire being was on high alert. "I don't think you realize how goddamn hurt I am." 
"Why would you be hurt?" He asked her with a humorless chuckle, discomfort evident on his features as he has never had to explain himself, and now that he had to, he didn't understand how to. 
"Why wouldn't I be?" She retaliated, her voice high and shrill. "You're my boyfriend, and just hours ago you confided in me the secrets of your past and deemed it to be appropriate to leave me at a moment where I am utterly confused and bewildered as to what to do with all this new information. You dropped an atomic bomb on me, Arcangelo. Now help me sort through the wreckage." 
"That is why I thought it best to leave." He informed, taking one last drag from the cigarette before leaning forward in his seat. "Because I wanted you to absorb it all, think it through, and decide without me hovering over you like some dead weight reminder. I wanted you to take your time in deciding what you wanted to do with all this information and not...and not acting rash about it." 
"So I acted rash, now?" 
"You acted impulsively." He nodded. "I just told you that I murdered my family-" 
"-You didn't mean to-" 
"-If not my family, then I had a sniper shoot down my biological father-" 
"-It was either going to be at your hands or your uncle's." 
"What?" Arcangelo froze in his seat, staring at her in bewilderment as he couldn't understand what she meant by those words. 
"Given all that he has done, he wasn't a father to you, Arcangelo. He was an abusive bastard who thought he could abuse a child with mafia affiliations and get away with it." She chuckled in disbelief. "He nearly killed you. You were 13. What have you done to deserve that from your own father? Just protect the ones you loved. I understand your selfless motive behind it, but God, you should have told your mom at least, you wouldn't have had to go through all the suffering that you did." 
"So I forced myself through year of torture? Is that what you're implying here-"
"-No, of course not." 
"Are you sure? Because it sounds like to me that you're saying I'm self-destructive-" 
"-Aren't you?" Rosalie asked him gently, looking at him with soft eyes as he was taken aback by her question, spluttering incoherently at her words. 
"The smoking, the mafia, the drinking, negative thoughts, everything. It's all self-destructive. But I am not saying it was the cause of the abuse. I am saying it was the result of the abuse. You became so accustomed to being treated like...like trash that you started to believe it-" 
"-No," Arcangelo shook his head. 
"-You started to believe it because it was forced down your throat. Your father wired your brain into thinking you were useless-" 
"-Rosalie, shut up-!" 
"-You believed it all because it was enforced on you, you believed you deserved all that you got-"
 "-Shut up-!" Arcangelo exclaimed angrily, shaking his head and covering his ears, not wanting to face the truth of her words. 
"-Why else do you think women don't stick with you? Why your relationship with your friends is crumbling? Why you literally relish the pain someone causes you? Because you believe you deserve it-"
 "-Rosalie-" He growled warningly. 
"-You believed it then and you believe it now-" 
"-Rosalie!" He roared in anger, abruptly standing up. 
The suddenness of the motion having her give a startled jump before her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his burning palm against the skin of her neck, her hands instinctively wrapping around his wrist. His face was inches from her's. Red and burning skin with gritted teeth and heaving breaths, his blue eyes wide with anger and something else as he glared her down, his fingers wrapped around her throat. 
Letting out a shuddered breath, Rosalie lowered her hands from his wrist and swallowed as Arcangelo could feel the movement against his palm. Looking up at him, she didn't struggle against him nor fight him as she felt his fingers twitch. 
Arcangelo stared at disbelief at the fingers wrapping around her fragile neck, realising that it wouldn't require too much to just end it all. He felt her heart beat race against his palm, the warmth of her neck transferring to his hand as he could feel her rapidly flowing blood at his fingertips. He felt powerful knowing that her life was quite literally in his hands and it wouldn't need more than a little squeeze to end her right here. 
Suddenly a freezing sensation oozed through him, pricking at his spine like needles as it hit him. This is what his father felt like when he was chocking his son. 
His stomach churned as he felt the shuddered breath Rosalie let out. Glancing up, he looked back at her uncertain, but unmoving gaze as she sat still in her seat. Arcangelo felt morbid just thinking how he was romanticizing the prospect of chocking her. His anger flew out and was instantly replaced by repulsion for himself as his mask cracked. Retreating his fingers from her skin, his legs shaking as his knees gave out beneath him. 
Falling down, Arcangelo pressed the flat of his palm to his eyes, feeling himself shaking uncontrollably. Suddenly Rosalie rested his head on her lap, running her fingers through his hair, comforting him through her gestures as her words rang through his mind, the truth of them stinging his already wounded soul. 
"You have been through a lot." Rosalie murmured quietly as Arcangelo listened in silence. "You have been told a lot, too." 
"By your father, the psychiatrist and psychologists, doctors, friends, and family," She resumed gently. "You must have heard one variation of things to another, and I know trauma isn't something easy to overcome. But you did." 
"I can only grasp a portion of what you went through and I am not going to act like I know how you feel, but forget about the past for just a second and listen to me" 
"I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave. I won't give up. And I will be here every single time you need me. You can doubt it. You can try to push me away because you think I'll just leave anyway but that will never be true. I don't care if there are a hundred million reasons to leave...you're the only reason I'll ever need to stay." Just as those words left her mouth, Arcangelo lifted his head, kneeling before her seated figure as he looked at her with bloodshot eyes. Moist with unshed tears and burning with his emotions for her. Alive. 
"You have no idea how important you to me, and I have no idea how to explain it to you." Rosalie admitted as she ran her hand down from the back of his head to be cupping his face. "You mean so much..." 
"You're the last thing I want to lose. You're the thought I wake up and fall asleep to. You make me feel so happy and cared for. If you thought differently, well you're wrong." Her voice cracked as she saw the gentleness of his eyes, the vulnerability, and for the first time she felt as if though she were seeing him. The actual, true and broken him. "I want to keep you in my life for as long as possible. You mean the world to me, and make sure you don't forget that." 
Staring at her in silent admiration, Arcangelo couldn't begin to comprehend what good deed he had done in his life to deserve such a wonderful human being as the one seated before him. Letting out a whoosh of air, he seemed to realise that he had been holding his breath, standing up; he never tore his gaze from her as she watched him in silence. Offering his hand, she interlaced their fingers as he led her back inside, closing the French doors behind them before walking over to her bedroom. 
Once the door closed, Rosalie stood staring at their intertwined fingers, admiring how good it felt. Suddenly his hand slipped from hers as her gaze was drawn up to his back. Reaching for the collar of his shirt, she watched as Arcangelo pulled off the t-shirt he had been wearing. 
Her eyes widened in surprise as a gasp stuck in her throat. Covering her mouth she stared at the skin before her. 
His shoulders were broad with a slim waist, the skin smooth, but littered with thin pale lines of years old scars. With trembling fingers she reached out, watching Arcangelo inhale deeply as she traced the blemished skin. Looking at the remainder of his cracked skin, she had to wonder how many nights he lay awake, whimpering as the pain seared through his skin and into his bones, unable to tell anyone and suffer through it in silence. Then she wondered how often his father whipped him again with the previous wounds still fresh. 
A lump formed in her throat as she could picture a little Arcangelo kneeling on the floor, scrawny and thin with shaggy black hair as had his gaze down, a whip coming down on him from the darkness. The sound of leather against skin reverberating through her skull as the little boy jumped in pain, but made no sound. 
The thought had Rosalie's skin crawl as she inhaled sharply. 
Moving forward she traced the scars across his back as the Arcangelo before her didn't make a move, his gaze forward with his hands bunched into fists at his side, standing tall and rigid. She was so close that he could feel her warmth at his back, breath fanning over the skin of his shoulders, her warm fingers gliding over his spine, tracing every single scar that was visible to her.
Suddenly, Rosalie placed her lips to the middle of his shoulder blades, placing a kiss there before pressing her lips to the scar in a gentle kiss. Uncertainly Arcangelo looked over his shoulder at her, watching as she placed tender kisses against his skin, her fingers against his sides. He felt her arms wrap around his waist as her chest was pressed against his back, her head rested against his spine. For a moment Rosalie tightened her grip around him, wanting him to know that she was there for him as she inhaled deeply, trying to blink away the tears that were welling in her eyes, knowing she had to be strong. Her composure returning when she felt Arcangelo envelop her hands with his own.
She felt Arcangelo's fingers tremble as he was rubbing his thumb over the skin of her palm, the sudden sensation of something wet falling on her hands. Lifting her head off his shoulder, Rosalie looked at his back she noticed him to be hanging his head, both of them quiet and unmoving. 
Pulling her arms away from Arcangelo's waist, she walked around him, her breathing feeling unbearably painful as she watched the tears stream down his cheeks, his gaze downcast as he tried to wipe away the tears. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Rosalie cupped his cheek into her hand, wiping the tears as she noticed how despondent he felt. 
Releasing a shaky breath, she kissed Arcangelo's cheek before kissing his forehead, grabbing hold of his hand, she gently nudged him backwards until his legs came in contact with the bed, the suddenness having him fall with a bounce. Straddling his lap, Rosalie cupped his face into her hands, gently pressing her lips to his, once, twice, three times. 
"Just like I'm safe in your arms..." Rosalie spoke quietly, kissing him once more. "You're allowed be vulnerable in mine..." 
"I know you've had a rough time throughout out your life, curio mio...And I can't promise that the years in the future would be easier. But I can promise that I will be there to help you through it," She promised him as she pulled off her shirt, throwing it onto the floor as she connected her lips with his once more, taking things slow and gentle for this night, because they were no rush to be anywhere, nor did they have a schedule to keep. 
Tonight, they tasted every inch of the other person's being and soul.