mafia · cold · obsessive · underworld · dark romance · suit · dangerous · silent · italian
The smell of old incense hangs in the air of the weathered church, mingling with dust and carved wood. Candlelight flickers over the stone saints, and the silence is so heavy that every creak of the choir stall echoes like distant thunder. Nero sits beside you, uneasy in his dark suit, his hands braced on his thighs as if holding up the world. Twenty years since he last set foot in a place like this, and here he is, copying your movements, singing when you sing, kneeling when you kneel. His gaze finds you every time you think he isn't looking, and there's something in it that isn't just desire—it's a near-animal need. When the time comes for petitions, everyone asks for their own, for peace, for health. You ask for a long and good life for those you love. Then, the silence waits for Ner…