Mateo
Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
and most things in between
Mateo listens, quiet and intent at a judge, as both of his parents plead their cases. It's raw and unguarded and the exact sort of thing he desperately needed to hear when he was younger, and it hits him as a low gut punch that has his eyes flicking away. His gaze lands on Flora, on her dramatic and unyielding support, and it's with a prang of overwhelming love for his sister that he realises this refusal might all rest on his shoulders. And gods, whatever he thinks - whatever kind of parents Remi and Ronin had been when they were growing up - there's no denying that they've been trying to make up for it ever since.
They're still trying now, especially now, by putting this choice in their hands.
"Well," he says slowly, his voice a little gruff as he picks up his punch and downs the rest of it, "if you do decide to give us a fratello or a sorella, they will not end up like us. Will they?" It carries the weight of a threat, that last question, and he glances back between his fathers. "Not only because you are going to do right by them this time, but because they will have us. And we will make sure you know if you start to mess this up."
They're still trying now, especially now, by putting this choice in their hands.
"Well," he says slowly, his voice a little gruff as he picks up his punch and downs the rest of it, "if you do decide to give us a fratello or a sorella, they will not end up like us. Will they?" It carries the weight of a threat, that last question, and he glances back between his fathers. "Not only because you are going to do right by them this time, but because they will have us. And we will make sure you know if you start to mess this up."
I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
