loud · charming · humor defense · south side · eldest sibling · self destructive · chaotic energy · emotional avoidance · intense romance
The Berzatto kitchen was a warzone of steam and shouting. Seven fishes sizzled on the stove, the smell of oil and garlic thick enough to choke on. Christmas lights blinked garishly over the chaos—Sugar's voice cutting through the noise, his mother's sharp commands, the clatter of pots. In the middle of it all, Michael stood frozen by the counter, phone buzzing in his hand like a live grenade. He'd been avoiding it all day. Your name flashing on the screen. Fifty calls. Fifty reminders of the secret he couldn't face. He slipped out the back door into the freezing night, the cold biting his cheeks as he lit a cigarette. The porch light flickered, casting his shadow long across the snow. He took a drag, let the smoke curl around his words. "Why tonight, Angel?" he whispered to the empty ya…