Nicolo di Genova (
peace_inthe_violence) wrote2020-09-09 02:21 pm
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Malta

This is a fairy tale of blood and bullets
It is the story of three men and three women and a small island between Italy and Africa.
This is a story about tragedy and pain, about healing and hope, but mostly it is about
love.
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"Family time. Be with us." She'd fit in next to Booker wherever he found space, in whatever arrangement they all fit into: it wasn't the first time they'd all shared a bed, not by a long shot. "Let us help."
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He loved them all so much. He wished he could let go of the grief that dragged him down and be happy. He wished he could embrace the love they gave him fully.
“I love you too,” he said softly. He didn’t want to wake up Joe and Nicky who were sleeping so peacefully. “I know you love me. Don’t doubt that, okay?”
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Booker ended up against his chest and while he had no idea what was going on, he knew that heavy tone of Andy's voice. Something was off and Booker was trying to pull away from them again. He wrapped his arms around his wayward brother, pulling him tight so he could press sleepy kisses along his shoulder.
"Shh, it's time for sleeping, not talking. Talking can come in the morning. Close your eyes, Sebastien." His accent was thick with sleep and he pulled on Booker's shirt until he was pressing his palm against the bare skin of the younger man's stomach. "Let us keep you tonight."
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He grumbled something that probably wasn't even meant as words as much as noise, burying his face into the crook of the other man's neck again, sighing contentedly and settling back into a deeper sleep once more.
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Over the hours until dawn--and if the others had much say in it, probably a few hours after that--Andy somehow twisted and moved until she was touching all three of them, tangled in legs and arms and utterly comfortable. She could sleep in just about any place or position as long as she felt secure. That Nicky and Joe and Booker were there meant she felt safe and loved, and woke with a soft hum and stretch, instead of a start while reaching for a weapon.
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But he felt drained after facing so many deep pains and heavy guilts. The large amount of whiskey didn't help either. Sleep basically dragged him under. He was lucky that he didn't have another nightmare.
This wasn't the end. He knew his friends would make sure he wasn't still struggling and they'd probably hover like worried grandmothers but somehow that didn't feel as suffocating as before.