Luca, in all his wisdom, his right hand man, had made it clear that he needed someone to run the household as Vincenzo. Someone alongside the mafia head to temper him. It can't be Hong Cha-Young. She needs to look after the law firm and Geugam Plaza back in Korea. A free spirit that cannot be contained and confined by the rules of what it means to co-head a mafia family. It can't be a daughter or son of any of the Families around Europe or even Italy; the unification would be great but at what price? It would compromise what Vincenzo had brought to the Cassano name.
An old family, consigliere, Luca had said. Clearly, his dear friend had someone in mind. Not someone affiliated with the Chinese Mafia but someone whose family wealth had been steeped deep in the past. It would bring a boon of money to the Cassano family, consigliere.
He had flown to China. He made the bows. The wedding is as beautiful as it could be for an arranged marriage. His bride easily could seem to be a decade younger than he is. Fine. Someone young could potentially bode well, grow into the Cassano family as its matriarch. There was a clause for no dalliances from either of them. Halfway into the celebrations, his attentions were required in Italy and he had to bid his bride a farewell with a soft kiss to the back of his hand, as he figured out very quickly that his bride was no woman, and a promise to meet him at the villa where they were to honeymoon on Lake Como. Everything had been arranged. It should go through swimmingly.
Of course.
Nothing ever goes through swimmingly.
It's nearly two in the morning when he arrives at the property and lets himself into the master suite, panting and sweaty, and with blood splotches all over his suit and some on his face as well. Ah damn, he'll need to have that sent out for dry cleaning. He stumbles over to a loveseat to sit down and just rest for a moment and close his eyes.
His poor bride. Married and tied to a sinner that even the Devil himself wouldn't want.
An arranged marriage hadn't been something Lan Sizhui pictured in his future, especially not one he's only been aware of for a week at most. Short notice appointments from the doctor's office? Sure, those are complete, one-hundred-percent understandable reasons. Random, spur-of-the-moment lunch dates with his friends and-slash-or family? No problem! These are, however, more mundane everyday things he's used to, so the exact opposite of a wedding. Still, it isn't anything he'll complain about (and certainly not where people are listening), of course, he'd just never pictured himself in this position as it's such an older tradition, even both his parents were initially shocked to hear. But knowing the name – Cassano – they're all well-aware it'd be insane to go against whatever requests they might have.
Even if that included Sizhui's hand in marriage.
Despite it all, regardless of the fact he knows money has just about everything to do with their union, he can't help hoping that as time goes on, something like actual feelings could develop between himself and his newly betrothed. Until then, he will simply do his best at being whoever he needs to, which is now a bride. It's fine, he's handled far more difficult things before!
Whenever the big day comes, Sizhui paints an absolutely gorgeous picture, perfection right down to his makeup. Gosh, if people didn't know any better, he very well would've even passed off as older than his actual age, but people never missed a chance to whisper. Nonetheless, the wedding goes smoothly; they make their bows, exchange vows with added stipulations – as if he'd ever! – then are released for celebrating, and that's the moment he seizes to briefly flitter away for a drink. (His wedding, he's allowed this, right?) Yet he does make his way back after some odd minutes of mingling too, just in time for his husband to mention there are other matters he must handle, leaving him with his promise to meet later and the gentlest kiss on his hand. It's a gesture he feels then while nodding that he understands and one he is still feeling well into the day after he arrives at the destined residence.
Sizhui's certain he's seen almost every color of flower in existence here; the scenery is breathtaking, its sprawling landscape and lovely lake, bright-colored houses dotting its walkways. How could anyone resist winding through them? He doesn't, even takes some extra time for his having to already wait so long, collecting blooms, a few cute trinkets and fresh dessert before heading back to the villa— where the man still hasn't shown up.
Admittedly, he's more concerned than irritated by now, but his flustered side rises to the surface in a moment of fleeting dramatics where (selfishly) he downs half the tiramisu cake he'd collected while out earlier then disappears into the oversized bathroom for long-overdue makeup removal.
Being startled awake at almost two in the morning wasn't something he thought he'd have to experience during what's supposed to be a honeymoon, though Sizhui creeps downstairs anyhow in spite of himself, clutching a fluffy, oversized robe around his shoulders that's at least somewhat better cover than the long nightgown underneath. He moves closer toward the noise and instantly lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding once he realizes, “Vincenzo!?” comes out a little too loud for a whisper, far more worried than anticipated, and he's not seen the state he's in yet.
“Where have you been?” Augh, Sizhui hates already sounding like an annoying harpy, but hours have gone by, there wasn't even so much as a call and— he comes up short after rounding the loveseat, eyes wide and mouth falling open in shock at the sight of blood. “Wh... what happened? A-Are you okay?”
The gasp of his name has his eyes flying open, body tense and ready, only
to relax slightly when he sees his bride in the most fluffy of robes
descending upon him like some sort of angel out of the rafters. He licks
his dry lips.
"I can't tell you, caro mio." His eyes turn somber for a moment.
"This is the life that I have trapped you into. I will have my secrets and
I will ask you to unfairly keep some of them," he says quietly.
Vincenzo shifts to sit up more properly, wincing a little bit. The
firefight had been rough. But nothing he couldn't handle. He reaches up to
cup his bride's face and brush his thumb over the cheekbone. He's too
vibrant to deserve this. Too youthful, too pure and innocent to be marred
in blood and shadows.
"I will have Luca drive you to the airport tomorrow. I can't do this." He
moves to stand up and hisses, babying his side. "I can't put you through
this."
Can't tell him? Now, what sort of flimsy excuse is that supposed to be? Sizhui's expression creases further at first, but the affectionate nickname makes him soften, his lips pursing with thought as he considers what he's being told. Perhaps he has no idea what he's getting himself into living this life, yet part of him doesn't care, too distracted with how his husband's injured rather than fretting about unshared secrets.
Still, there is a soft voice niggling at the back of his mind: ‘He's giving you the chance to leave,’ a reminder that if he truly wants, there's no one who will stop him and his family would happily welcome him back home, no questions asked.
His lips press tighter at Vincenzo's cringe, one hand reaching to clench in some long strands that have come loose from their braid, worriedly twisting around his fingers. Then the other man's hand touches his face, earning another quiet, surprised sound which Sizhui desperately tries swallowing down near the end there. So much has happened all at once, how's he supposed to process everything? Uncertainty flares like an angry beast rearing its head, yet there's one thing he does know for sure: Vincenzo can't put him through this if he willingly volunteers to do it instead, can he?
“No,” Sizhui insists firmly, taking hold of Vincenzo's hand against his cheek, shifting and bending so he can guide the man's arm around his shoulders as he stands. “Selfish or not, I will keep whatever secrets you want, and I'm certainly not abandoning you while you're injured. Rest some of your weight on me, okay? Then we will go to the bathroom.”
He'd protest but, for all the softness Sizhui is, he has a feeling that
the younger man has a stubbornness streak through him. He rests some of his
weight against Sizhui as they make their way to the bathroom. All of this
will be cleaned up, discreetly, of course, as the owners of the hotel owe
the Cassano family.
"I'll be fine," he insists. "This isn't my blood." There's a need to
discern that.
He's bruised but the bullets didn't come anywhere near him.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I hope Luca was vaguely entertaining as
company."
It's a good and completely true assumption to make because if Vincenzo had argued, Sizhui would've retorted without hesitation, complained until he gave in. With the utmost carefulness, he hooks his other arm around Vincenzo's waist while leading them along, reaching to flip the light on and snatch the remaining white towel he'd left on the rack for what he was figuring would be a shower. Instead, he'll clean blood off his new husband, which will likely end up taken care of too.
At least his posture slackens somewhat after Vincenzo explains it isn't his. Whose is it? he immediately wants to ask, stopping himself only by biting his cheek. “Good, but I want to make sure. Trauma can still cause internal bleeding.” He helps him sit on the small bench nearby, pushes the plug on the sink and flips the handle to let it start filling.
Then Sizhui's attention redirects, half-lidded eyes regarding Vincenzo before he huffs a sigh, his mouth quirking at the edges. “It's okay and he was pleasant enough.” Not Luca's fault he'd been preoccupied with other things. “Are you dizzy? Have any chest or abdominal pain or numbness and weakness on either side of your body?”
He goes where his bride takes him and he sits down gingerly and lets the
younger fuss over him. He watches as he fills the sink, supposedly to wet
more towels to wipe away the blood on him. He had left Luca to get Sizhui
to the house and to arrange for everything to be entertaining for him. He
watches Sizhui, shaking his head when necessary.
"I'm fine," he replies.
He's lived in the world of secrets and lies for far longer than anyone
should. Vincenzo stills his hand.
"It's not too late to annul it."
Though the Church would have something to say about that. Not to mention
Sizhui's family. But he couldn't risk Sizhui being tangled up in the lies
and secrecy and darkness that comes from being married to the head of a
Mafia family.
A handtowel goes into the warm water, sinking until it's completely submerged, then Sizhui's free hand reaches to shut the faucet off. He drapes the bathsheet over one shoulder, lifts the smaller towel from the sink, wrings it out and begins using that to wipe Vincenzo's face first, followed by drying him clean with the larger towel. Back and forth every moment or two for more water makes it seem tedious, but Sizhui doesn't falter, stays wholly focused and even extra meticulous by looking Vincenzo over for any noticeable marks.
Fine, fine, his husband insists and although Sizhui wants to say he's expecting a better answer, he accepts this (for now). His hand holding the damp towel continues wiping, off-colored pinkish stains spreading, and the only reason he hesitates is because Vincenzo stops him.
There it is again, he ponders, fingers cinched tight around the rag while he's examining Vincenzo's expression for any reluctance. He's well-aware Luca could come to take him right home, and yet...
He opens his mouth, closes it, makes a soft, thoughtful ‘mmn’ during his consideration of the same things then shakes his head. An indescribable sensation tells him to and rather than turn against his gut feeling, Sizhui goes back to cleaning up the blood, gaze downcast. Albeit, the momentary lingering silence is awkward, his tone at least manages to convey some levity when he asks, “Will you let me see your bruises or am I going to have to fight you with this as well?”
He barely flinches when Sizhui starts to dab the blood away from his face.
There would be no noticeable marks that Sizhui could see right away. He's
thorough. Vincenzo could give his bride that. He watches as the mouth opens
and closes, then as Sizhui contemplates his offer.
He huffs a soft sound of amusement. Vincenzo pulls at his tie, letting the
silk loosen and slither out from his collar. He reaches up and unbuttons
the buttons of his shirt. His hands have blood and gunfire residue, his
body has a few bruises, but nothing worrisome. He watches Sizhui's
expression.
"I am not a kind man, Sizhui," he says quietly. "I am the head of a Mafia
family that makes Italy tremble."
Ordinarily, anyone else might have stopped at the sight of him cringing, yet Sizhui simply gives an apologetic look and lessens the pressure ever-so-slightly as he continues. One has to be conscientious when doctoring people up and while he isn't not sympathetic, he's still very professional in his work.
His mouth curves at the sound, a faint gesture of his own mirth, and although Sizhui's gaze flickers downward once Vincenzo begins undoing his tie, he urges himself to look away after he moves on to unbuttoning his shirt. Unsure why he needs an extra moment to steel his nerves, he finds a brief distraction in taking one of Vincenzo's hands and wiping away all the grime there, then downcasts his gaze to examine what marks are littering his husband's body; nothing too terrible from what he can see and that makes him exhale a relieved sigh.
Though he upturns again, eyes thoughtfully narrowed, brow wrinkled with contemplation. Finally, Sizhui dares to ask, “Are you trying to frighten me? And if so, why? It will take much more than this to run me off.”
"I am trying to warn you of what sort of things you would see when you
marry someone like me. There are many expectations of you in this position."
Vincenzo caresses along his hand, letting his own move over the slim
digits. How could he lay out all that is expected for the position and
expected of Sizhui as the wife of the head? From what Luca had told him,
the Lan had many rules and expectations as well, being one of the very few
families whose gentry survived through the years. He presses his lips
together and gives a soft sigh. Luca would not have arranged this if he
didn't think Sizhui was capable of fulfilling the role.
"I want you to be sure that you are aware of what it all means. That isn't
simply a charmed life."
“I understand... and appreciate it.” And for some reason, he's still stubbornly deciding to stay despite this revelation. “These are expectations I can learn, yes?”
Sizhui's turn to hesitate when that hand moves over his, making him clench tighter on the rag, his teeth sinking into the side of his cheek. It's true, the Lan have thousands upon thousands of their own rules, some that briefly dart through his mind while considering his current position knelt beside Vincenzo, all of which he pushes aside in favor of continuing to fuss. He may not be familiar with what comes in this position, but the actuality that he agreed, the fact he's not running— it has to count for something, even if he's more than capable once given the chance.
“Admittedly, I've never expected a charmed life.” Another rule he can recall even says they shouldn't accept such things, and yet he can't help making a joke as his hand lowers so his fingertips can carefully press against some bruises discoloring Vincenzo's shoulder. “Perhaps a semi-charmed one wouldn't be so bad, though.”
A huff. Of all people, he would be the last one to judge a person's
character based on their appearances. He doesn't flinch at the touch to his
bruises. Bruises fade with time, they heal. He'd known about the thousands
of rules. Luca had made sure that Vincenzo was well informed of the Lan
family. Sizhui is not as soft as he seems. Given the situation, he would
also be able to defend himself. Vincenzo worries of whether or not he could
stand firmly as the head of the household.
"You may be asked to keep secrets; witness horrible, terrible things; all
while running the household while I run the family."
He cups his cheek and nudges his face up so he could look into those eyes.
"You would need to be firm, calm, even in the face of people who would want
to hurt our family. Even if that person is me. But know that I will always
be loyal to you; all of me."
See, Sizhui's normally soft and kindhearted, but he's learned when to steel himself, knows how he should act during particular moments where more firmness is needed. Sort of like insisting he helps Vincenzo with his injuries, despite the man's protesting. (And won't it also be interesting to learn he can at least defend himself in an actual physical fight too?) Bruises are... well, thankfully just those, so he moves on from them, sets the towels aside for now then gestures toward Vincenzo's shirt. “Take that off,” comes simply as Sizhui removes the robe he's wearing. With most of the mess having been cleaned, his silky nightgown ought to be safe.
He clutches the fluffy garment afterward, listening intently, distress clear in his expression, although he's trying his best to keep calm now, ironically. Having Vincenzo caress his face again while initiating direct eye-contact makes his eyes widen and causes butterflies to flutter in his stomach, yet it also has him softening, one hand reaching to brush his fingertips across Vincenzo's knuckles as he leans into his touch.
Though he doesn't quite understand why Vincenzo would hurt his own family, Sizhui resists asking, just slides his hand to hold his husband's forearm and nods again. “As I will be loyal to you.” That was part of their union, wasn't it? Any sheepishness put aside, he lifts his opposite arm then stretches it out, the pad of his thumb gently brushing Vincenzo's cheek. “Explain to me how the household must be run and I'll do my absolute best.” Since he's already shown how (mostly) cool and collected he can be during distressing situations.
He really did go through with being a bride, didn't he? Vincenzo watches
as he casts the fluffy robe aside to reveal a white nightgown beneath. It's
simple; beautiful in its own flowing way. Something warms and loosens in
his chest when Sizhui gently caresses his hand and his forearm in return,
swearing his own loyalty. The gentle touch to his cheek is kind, soft in a
way that his life isn't.
Vincenzo reaches up to undo the rest of the buttons of his shirt and pulls
it off, leaving him bare from his waist up. He watches Sizhui the entire
time, moving slow enough to not jostle the other as he moves. The blood
stained shirt falls on the floor, joining his tie.
"There must be no surprises for you. Or for me. Everyone will be at your
command. There will be things I ask for you to do and yuo will need to do
them without a moment's hesitation. The house must be running in well
working order without anything out of place or in chaos so that it can be
your sanctuary, my sanctuary. But also the first thing that those that I
deem worthy enough to come here, come under the protection of the Cassano
family sees."
Safety in the fortress, the physical protection that the Cassano family can
provide.
Of course he did! It'd been made explicitly clear that everything should go off without a hitch and, in their defense, it all had until the honeymoon. Maybe this wasn't what Sizhui had expected, it isn't entirely unwelcome either, given his current position; his fingertips caressing Vincenzo's arm, the comforting stroke across his cheek. Credit where it's due, something far worse could've happened— like becoming a widow shortly after just marrying? (That would have been horrific!)
He withdraws while Vincenzo finishes undressing, head tilting this way and that, giving the man a thorough once-over to make absolute certain he's not hurt elsewhere. From what he can tell, there's nothing that needs immediate attention, prompting another comforted sigh then Sizhui collects the robe, holding an end in one hand and tossing the other side over Vincenzo's shoulders.
A little more intimate, being so close to drape the cover around him, but it means they can continue softly conversing amongst themselves without any worry of someone eavesdropping. All of this sounds like a lot, yet he continues paying attention, noting each and every word Vincezo says, features creased with thought. So, alongside the marriage, there's protection in exchange for making sure the house runs smoothly and whatever else comes with that... it's not the worst thing here, being deemed worthy enough for the Cassano family's consideration, but he is somewhat questioning his abilities. For God's sake, Jim, he's a doctor!
Not that he lets his apprehension show for long. Sizhui's hands tug the robe's edges together, he pats Vincenzo's chest then smiles faintly and straightens again. “Does ‘everyone’ also include you?” Another joke, he can't help himself, humor helps lessen the worry about his racing heartbeat.
It's strange how easy it is to tease him back like this. Sizhui is a
handsome man. He would even go so far as to say he's beautiful. Vincenzo
could see how dangerous Sizhui is; to fall in love with such a vision can
easily compromise any hardened criminal. He is very aware that they are on
their honeymoon in one of the most beautiful places in all of Italy. It's
here that he could stay and pretend that the troubles of the real world
were far. Only if Sizhui wants. And he wonders if he should look at the
contract once more; perhaps allow Sizhui a sanctioned playmate, as it were,
so that he wouldn't feel so lonely or unloved.
Sizhui's eyebrows arch with interest, that small smile widening into something more proper-like, even hinting on the edge of playful when he asks, “Really?” Because now he's considering what sort of requests he might be able to get away with.
Which has him lowering his gaze in an instant when his thoughts wander further than expected; the two of them here, together in Italy, all of this room they can use for whatever they like until either Vincenzo is called away again or they're both finally taken back into the real world where their new married lives begin. He props both hands onto the vanity, leans back on them, head tipped while he consideringly hums because there are many things he could ask at this moment, yet what comes out is something decent-sounding and so completely modest: “Will my husband come to bed with me?”
The answer comes without hesitation. He knows he should carry Sizhui but
his current state does not allow for him to do such a feat. He turns toward
a hand and kisses the back of it softly. He had given his word to Sizhui's
father that he would always be a gentleman to his son, that he will never
be left wanting anything.
Yes, Vincenzo says, so free and easy it almost makes Sizhui's heart jackhammer again.
He huffs a soft, contented breath then turns the hand Vincenzo kisses, drifts his first two fingertips along the line of his nose and stops at the tip where he gently taps. Sure, his husband can't carry him across the threshold as is customary, but has anything really been traditional about this wedding so far? He doesn't mind at all, finds no effort whatsoever in moving again, taking Vincenzo's arm, hooking it around his shoulders and readying to lift him a second time. “Come, I'll help you.”
Kindness is what Vincenzo deserves at the moment after everything else he's been through today (and technically yesterday). Besides, Sizhui likes that quiet laugh he gets in return alongside the remark about carrying him, rather than it being vice-versa.
“Ordinarily,” he confirms, “but taking your injuries into account, I think it's alright to say we carried each other for now.” And later, if they are feeling especially sentimental, they can continue tradition.
He nods, continuing to lead them along, into their bedroom and toward the bathroom.
Once inside there, Sizhui guides Vincenzo to the sink nearest the shower then – after making certain the other man can stand on his own – he finally lets him go. “I'm assuming you can take it from here?” Because if so, he will politely excuse himself and attempt to take off before his overactive thought process has him making less appropriate judgments.
Vincenzo easily shrugs the fluffy robe from around his shoulders, letting
it pool around his feet. He watches Sizhui's expressions as he leans
against the sink and allows him to take his fill of looking at him.
Ah... “Of course, it's no problem.” Or it usually isn't, given his profession, but Sizhui's feeling oddly shy around his new husband.
Checking him out while he's undressing again certainly doesn't help things. He watches the robe fall then averts his attention, moves to the shower and turns it on with one hand, the opposite hovering underneath the showerhead so he can test how hot, warm or cold it is.
“You shouldn't,” Sizhui assures, flicking some water off his fingers and upturning his gaze to meet Vincenzo's. “I'm unsure how warm you want it, so would you like to check the temperature? Though a little extra heat might help your bruises... if you can stand it.” And if not, that's fine as well, since he'd imagine their room has a first aid kit somewhere with a cold pack.
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houseofsushi2020-05-22 10:34 pm
no subject
An old family, consigliere, Luca had said. Clearly, his dear friend had someone in mind. Not someone affiliated with the Chinese Mafia but someone whose family wealth had been steeped deep in the past. It would bring a boon of money to the Cassano family, consigliere.
He had flown to China. He made the bows. The wedding is as beautiful as it could be for an arranged marriage. His bride easily could seem to be a decade younger than he is. Fine. Someone young could potentially bode well, grow into the Cassano family as its matriarch. There was a clause for no dalliances from either of them. Halfway into the celebrations, his attentions were required in Italy and he had to bid his bride a farewell with a soft kiss to the back of his hand, as he figured out very quickly that his bride was no woman, and a promise to meet him at the villa where they were to honeymoon on Lake Como. Everything had been arranged. It should go through swimmingly.
Of course.
Nothing ever goes through swimmingly.
It's nearly two in the morning when he arrives at the property and lets himself into the master suite, panting and sweaty, and with blood splotches all over his suit and some on his face as well. Ah damn, he'll need to have that sent out for dry cleaning. He stumbles over to a loveseat to sit down and just rest for a moment and close his eyes.
His poor bride. Married and tied to a sinner that even the Devil himself wouldn't want.
no subject
Even if that included Sizhui's hand in marriage.
Despite it all, regardless of the fact he knows money has just about everything to do with their union, he can't help hoping that as time goes on, something like actual feelings could develop between himself and his newly betrothed. Until then, he will simply do his best at being whoever he needs to, which is now a bride. It's fine, he's handled far more difficult things before!
Whenever the big day comes, Sizhui paints an absolutely gorgeous picture, perfection right down to his makeup. Gosh, if people didn't know any better, he very well would've even passed off as older than his actual age, but people never missed a chance to whisper. Nonetheless, the wedding goes smoothly; they make their bows, exchange vows with added stipulations – as if he'd ever! – then are released for celebrating, and that's the moment he seizes to briefly flitter away for a drink. (His wedding, he's allowed this, right?) Yet he does make his way back after some odd minutes of mingling too, just in time for his husband to mention there are other matters he must handle, leaving him with his promise to meet later and the gentlest kiss on his hand. It's a gesture he feels then while nodding that he understands and one he is still feeling well into the day after he arrives at the destined residence.
Sizhui's certain he's seen almost every color of flower in existence here; the scenery is breathtaking, its sprawling landscape and lovely lake, bright-colored houses dotting its walkways. How could anyone resist winding through them? He doesn't, even takes some extra time for his having to already wait so long, collecting blooms, a few cute trinkets and fresh dessert before heading back to the villa— where the man still hasn't shown up.
Admittedly, he's more concerned than irritated by now, but his flustered side rises to the surface in a moment of fleeting dramatics where (selfishly) he downs half the tiramisu cake he'd collected while out earlier then disappears into the oversized bathroom for long-overdue makeup removal.
Being startled awake at almost two in the morning wasn't something he thought he'd have to experience during what's supposed to be a honeymoon, though Sizhui creeps downstairs anyhow in spite of himself, clutching a fluffy, oversized robe around his shoulders that's at least somewhat better cover than the long nightgown underneath. He moves closer toward the noise and instantly lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding once he realizes, “Vincenzo!?” comes out a little too loud for a whisper, far more worried than anticipated, and he's not seen the state he's in yet.
“Where have you been?” Augh, Sizhui hates already sounding like an annoying harpy, but hours have gone by, there wasn't even so much as a call and— he comes up short after rounding the loveseat, eyes wide and mouth falling open in shock at the sight of blood. “Wh... what happened? A-Are you okay?”
no subject
The gasp of his name has his eyes flying open, body tense and ready, only to relax slightly when he sees his bride in the most fluffy of robes descending upon him like some sort of angel out of the rafters. He licks his dry lips.
"I can't tell you, caro mio." His eyes turn somber for a moment. "This is the life that I have trapped you into. I will have my secrets and I will ask you to unfairly keep some of them," he says quietly.
Vincenzo shifts to sit up more properly, wincing a little bit. The firefight had been rough. But nothing he couldn't handle. He reaches up to cup his bride's face and brush his thumb over the cheekbone. He's too vibrant to deserve this. Too youthful, too pure and innocent to be marred in blood and shadows.
"I will have Luca drive you to the airport tomorrow. I can't do this." He moves to stand up and hisses, babying his side. "I can't put you through this."
no subject
Still, there is a soft voice niggling at the back of his mind: ‘He's giving you the chance to leave,’ a reminder that if he truly wants, there's no one who will stop him and his family would happily welcome him back home, no questions asked.
His lips press tighter at Vincenzo's cringe, one hand reaching to clench in some long strands that have come loose from their braid, worriedly twisting around his fingers. Then the other man's hand touches his face, earning another quiet, surprised sound which Sizhui desperately tries swallowing down near the end there. So much has happened all at once, how's he supposed to process everything? Uncertainty flares like an angry beast rearing its head, yet there's one thing he does know for sure: Vincenzo can't put him through this if he willingly volunteers to do it instead, can he?
“No,” Sizhui insists firmly, taking hold of Vincenzo's hand against his cheek, shifting and bending so he can guide the man's arm around his shoulders as he stands. “Selfish or not, I will keep whatever secrets you want, and I'm certainly not abandoning you while you're injured. Rest some of your weight on me, okay? Then we will go to the bathroom.”
no subject
He'd protest but, for all the softness Sizhui is, he has a feeling that the younger man has a stubbornness streak through him. He rests some of his weight against Sizhui as they make their way to the bathroom. All of this will be cleaned up, discreetly, of course, as the owners of the hotel owe the Cassano family.
"I'll be fine," he insists. "This isn't my blood." There's a need to discern that.
He's bruised but the bullets didn't come anywhere near him.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I hope Luca was vaguely entertaining as company."
no subject
At least his posture slackens somewhat after Vincenzo explains it isn't his. Whose is it? he immediately wants to ask, stopping himself only by biting his cheek. “Good, but I want to make sure. Trauma can still cause internal bleeding.” He helps him sit on the small bench nearby, pushes the plug on the sink and flips the handle to let it start filling.
Then Sizhui's attention redirects, half-lidded eyes regarding Vincenzo before he huffs a sigh, his mouth quirking at the edges. “It's okay and he was pleasant enough.” Not Luca's fault he'd been preoccupied with other things. “Are you dizzy? Have any chest or abdominal pain or numbness and weakness on either side of your body?”
no subject
He goes where his bride takes him and he sits down gingerly and lets the younger fuss over him. He watches as he fills the sink, supposedly to wet more towels to wipe away the blood on him. He had left Luca to get Sizhui to the house and to arrange for everything to be entertaining for him. He watches Sizhui, shaking his head when necessary.
"I'm fine," he replies.
He's lived in the world of secrets and lies for far longer than anyone should. Vincenzo stills his hand.
"It's not too late to annul it."
Though the Church would have something to say about that. Not to mention Sizhui's family. But he couldn't risk Sizhui being tangled up in the lies and secrecy and darkness that comes from being married to the head of a Mafia family.
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Fine, fine, his husband insists and although Sizhui wants to say he's expecting a better answer, he accepts this (for now). His hand holding the damp towel continues wiping, off-colored pinkish stains spreading, and the only reason he hesitates is because Vincenzo stops him.
There it is again, he ponders, fingers cinched tight around the rag while he's examining Vincenzo's expression for any reluctance. He's well-aware Luca could come to take him right home, and yet...
He opens his mouth, closes it, makes a soft, thoughtful ‘mmn’ during his consideration of the same things then shakes his head. An indescribable sensation tells him to and rather than turn against his gut feeling, Sizhui goes back to cleaning up the blood, gaze downcast. Albeit, the momentary lingering silence is awkward, his tone at least manages to convey some levity when he asks, “Will you let me see your bruises or am I going to have to fight you with this as well?”
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He barely flinches when Sizhui starts to dab the blood away from his face. There would be no noticeable marks that Sizhui could see right away. He's thorough. Vincenzo could give his bride that. He watches as the mouth opens and closes, then as Sizhui contemplates his offer.
He huffs a soft sound of amusement. Vincenzo pulls at his tie, letting the silk loosen and slither out from his collar. He reaches up and unbuttons the buttons of his shirt. His hands have blood and gunfire residue, his body has a few bruises, but nothing worrisome. He watches Sizhui's expression.
"I am not a kind man, Sizhui," he says quietly. "I am the head of a Mafia family that makes Italy tremble."
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His mouth curves at the sound, a faint gesture of his own mirth, and although Sizhui's gaze flickers downward once Vincenzo begins undoing his tie, he urges himself to look away after he moves on to unbuttoning his shirt. Unsure why he needs an extra moment to steel his nerves, he finds a brief distraction in taking one of Vincenzo's hands and wiping away all the grime there, then downcasts his gaze to examine what marks are littering his husband's body; nothing too terrible from what he can see and that makes him exhale a relieved sigh.
Though he upturns again, eyes thoughtfully narrowed, brow wrinkled with contemplation. Finally, Sizhui dares to ask, “Are you trying to frighten me? And if so, why? It will take much more than this to run me off.”
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"I am trying to warn you of what sort of things you would see when you marry someone like me. There are many expectations of you in this position."
Vincenzo caresses along his hand, letting his own move over the slim digits. How could he lay out all that is expected for the position and expected of Sizhui as the wife of the head? From what Luca had told him, the Lan had many rules and expectations as well, being one of the very few families whose gentry survived through the years. He presses his lips together and gives a soft sigh. Luca would not have arranged this if he didn't think Sizhui was capable of fulfilling the role.
"I want you to be sure that you are aware of what it all means. That isn't simply a charmed life."
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Sizhui's turn to hesitate when that hand moves over his, making him clench tighter on the rag, his teeth sinking into the side of his cheek. It's true, the Lan have thousands upon thousands of their own rules, some that briefly dart through his mind while considering his current position knelt beside Vincenzo, all of which he pushes aside in favor of continuing to fuss. He may not be familiar with what comes in this position, but the actuality that he agreed, the fact he's not running— it has to count for something, even if he's more than capable once given the chance.
“Admittedly, I've never expected a charmed life.” Another rule he can recall even says they shouldn't accept such things, and yet he can't help making a joke as his hand lowers so his fingertips can carefully press against some bruises discoloring Vincenzo's shoulder. “Perhaps a semi-charmed one wouldn't be so bad, though.”
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A huff. Of all people, he would be the last one to judge a person's character based on their appearances. He doesn't flinch at the touch to his bruises. Bruises fade with time, they heal. He'd known about the thousands of rules. Luca had made sure that Vincenzo was well informed of the Lan family. Sizhui is not as soft as he seems. Given the situation, he would also be able to defend himself. Vincenzo worries of whether or not he could stand firmly as the head of the household.
"You may be asked to keep secrets; witness horrible, terrible things; all while running the household while I run the family."
He cups his cheek and nudges his face up so he could look into those eyes.
"You would need to be firm, calm, even in the face of people who would want to hurt our family. Even if that person is me. But know that I will always be loyal to you; all of me."
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He clutches the fluffy garment afterward, listening intently, distress clear in his expression, although he's trying his best to keep calm now, ironically. Having Vincenzo caress his face again while initiating direct eye-contact makes his eyes widen and causes butterflies to flutter in his stomach, yet it also has him softening, one hand reaching to brush his fingertips across Vincenzo's knuckles as he leans into his touch.
Though he doesn't quite understand why Vincenzo would hurt his own family, Sizhui resists asking, just slides his hand to hold his husband's forearm and nods again. “As I will be loyal to you.” That was part of their union, wasn't it? Any sheepishness put aside, he lifts his opposite arm then stretches it out, the pad of his thumb gently brushing Vincenzo's cheek. “Explain to me how the household must be run and I'll do my absolute best.” Since he's already shown how (mostly) cool and collected he can be during distressing situations.
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He really did go through with being a bride, didn't he? Vincenzo watches as he casts the fluffy robe aside to reveal a white nightgown beneath. It's simple; beautiful in its own flowing way. Something warms and loosens in his chest when Sizhui gently caresses his hand and his forearm in return, swearing his own loyalty. The gentle touch to his cheek is kind, soft in a way that his life isn't.
Vincenzo reaches up to undo the rest of the buttons of his shirt and pulls it off, leaving him bare from his waist up. He watches Sizhui the entire time, moving slow enough to not jostle the other as he moves. The blood stained shirt falls on the floor, joining his tie.
"There must be no surprises for you. Or for me. Everyone will be at your command. There will be things I ask for you to do and yuo will need to do them without a moment's hesitation. The house must be running in well working order without anything out of place or in chaos so that it can be your sanctuary, my sanctuary. But also the first thing that those that I deem worthy enough to come here, come under the protection of the Cassano family sees."
Safety in the fortress, the physical protection that the Cassano family can provide.
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He withdraws while Vincenzo finishes undressing, head tilting this way and that, giving the man a thorough once-over to make absolute certain he's not hurt elsewhere. From what he can tell, there's nothing that needs immediate attention, prompting another comforted sigh then Sizhui collects the robe, holding an end in one hand and tossing the other side over Vincenzo's shoulders.
A little more intimate, being so close to drape the cover around him, but it means they can continue softly conversing amongst themselves without any worry of someone eavesdropping. All of this sounds like a lot, yet he continues paying attention, noting each and every word Vincezo says, features creased with thought. So, alongside the marriage, there's protection in exchange for making sure the house runs smoothly and whatever else comes with that... it's not the worst thing here, being deemed worthy enough for the Cassano family's consideration, but he is somewhat questioning his abilities.
For God's sake, Jim, he's a doctor!Not that he lets his apprehension show for long. Sizhui's hands tug the robe's edges together, he pats Vincenzo's chest then smiles faintly and straightens again. “Does ‘everyone’ also include you?” Another joke, he can't help himself, humor helps lessen the worry about his racing heartbeat.
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"Depends on the request," he teases back.
It's strange how easy it is to tease him back like this. Sizhui is a handsome man. He would even go so far as to say he's beautiful. Vincenzo could see how dangerous Sizhui is; to fall in love with such a vision can easily compromise any hardened criminal. He is very aware that they are on their honeymoon in one of the most beautiful places in all of Italy. It's here that he could stay and pretend that the troubles of the real world were far. Only if Sizhui wants. And he wonders if he should look at the contract once more; perhaps allow Sizhui a sanctioned playmate, as it were, so that he wouldn't feel so lonely or unloved.
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Which has him lowering his gaze in an instant when his thoughts wander further than expected; the two of them here, together in Italy, all of this room they can use for whatever they like until either Vincenzo is called away again or they're both finally taken back into the real world where their new married lives begin. He props both hands onto the vanity, leans back on them, head tipped while he consideringly hums because there are many things he could ask at this moment, yet what comes out is something decent-sounding and so completely modest: “Will my husband come to bed with me?”
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"Yes."
The answer comes without hesitation. He knows he should carry Sizhui but his current state does not allow for him to do such a feat. He turns toward a hand and kisses the back of it softly. He had given his word to Sizhui's father that he would always be a gentleman to his son, that he will never be left wanting anything.
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He huffs a soft, contented breath then turns the hand Vincenzo kisses, drifts his first two fingertips along the line of his nose and stops at the tip where he gently taps. Sure, his husband can't carry him across the threshold as is customary, but has anything really been traditional about this wedding so far? He doesn't mind at all, finds no effort whatsoever in moving again, taking Vincenzo's arm, hooking it around his shoulders and readying to lift him a second time. “Come, I'll help you.”
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The touch is sweet and Vincenzo closes his eyes at the feel of his fingers along his nose. He can't help but chuckle a little.
"Aren't I supposed to carry you?" he asks.
All the same, Vincenzo leans on him as they move up and toward the bedroom.
"Let me at least shower to wash off all this," he says. "I can manage that."
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“Ordinarily,” he confirms, “but taking your injuries into account, I think it's alright to say we carried each other for now.” And later, if they are feeling especially sentimental, they can continue tradition.
He nods, continuing to lead them along, into their bedroom and toward the bathroom.
Once inside there, Sizhui guides Vincenzo to the sink nearest the shower then – after making certain the other man can stand on his own – he finally lets him go. “I'm assuming you can take it from here?” Because if so, he will politely excuse himself and attempt to take off before his overactive thought process has him making less appropriate judgments.
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"I may need some help," he admits.
Vincenzo easily shrugs the fluffy robe from around his shoulders, letting it pool around his feet. He watches Sizhui's expressions as he leans against the sink and allows him to take his fill of looking at him.
"I shouldn't be straining myself too much."
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Checking him out while he's undressing again certainly doesn't help things. He watches the robe fall then averts his attention, moves to the shower and turns it on with one hand, the opposite hovering underneath the showerhead so he can test how hot, warm or cold it is.
“You shouldn't,” Sizhui assures, flicking some water off his fingers and upturning his gaze to meet Vincenzo's. “I'm unsure how warm you want it, so would you like to check the temperature? Though a little extra heat might help your bruises... if you can stand it.” And if not, that's fine as well, since he'd imagine their room has a first aid kit somewhere with a cold pack.
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How sweet is he for being so shy. He shifts until he could curl around Sizhui and test the water himself.
"Seems hot enough," he says quietly. "Thank you for helping me."
He unbuttons and unzips his trousers, lowering it and his underpants without shame until he could shimmy and push it down over his hips and legs.
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