teddy   bennett   was   not   easily   broken.   but   the   endearment   that   slipped   from   petal   soft   lips   breaks   him.   baby.   it   had   lived   between   them   for   so   long   that   it   had   stopped   feeling   like   a   word.   it   was   a   habit,   it   was   a   home.   a   language   they   they   spoke   so   fluently.   and   now   it   landed   like   a   funeral   bell.   head   dips   and   optics   drop   to   the   warm   toned   floorboards   as   breath   escapes   in   a   slow,   uneven   tremble.   looking   at   her,  hurt.   it   brought   forth   the   ever   staining   fact   that he   saw   two   versions   of   himself   standing   before   her.   the   man   she'd   loved   for   ten   years   and   the   man   who'd   walked   through   the   front   door   minutes   ago.   they   were   no   longer   the   same   person.   another   swallow   and   his   throat   burned.   another   failed   attempt   at   finding   words.

    he   could   see   it   in   her   eyes,   in   the   way   she   moved,   in   the   exhaustion   that   clung   to   every   fibre   of   her. she'd   cried.    and   he'd   spent   the   entire   night   before   convincing   himself   that he'd   already   lost   her   while   he   buried   himself   in   expensive   liquor   and  someone   else.   she   was   mourning   and   he'd   never   hated   himself   more   than   it   did   in   this   moment.   shoulders   sagged   beneath   the   weight   he'd   earned   and   was   now   certain   he'd   never   be   able   to   put   down.   〝   i'm   sorry.   〞   scraped   from   his   tongue,   barely   audible.   〝     i'm   so   fucking   sorry.   〞   voice   cracks   somewhere   in   the   middle   but   he's   honest.   〝   i   shouldn't   have   said   anything,  〞   his   next   breath   shakes   at   shoulders so   violently   it's   visible   to   anyone   in   the   area.   〝 i   was   angry   and   it   got   heated   and   i   let   it   get   the   better   of   me,   i   said   things   i   didn't   mean.   things   i   can   never   take   back.   〞   and   every   sentence   carries   two   meanings,   the   one   she   would   hear   was   an   apology   for   visceral   feelings   spilled   in   a   fight   that   he   can   barely   remember   the   reasoning   and   the   one   that   would   stay   buried   inside   him.   〝   i   never   …   〞   jaw   clenches   beneath   the   wait   of   a   confession   that   he'd   yet   to   admit   to.   could   never   bring   himself   to   admit   to.   〝   i   never   wanted   to   hurt   you.   〞   and   it   was   the   closest   to   the   truth   he   could   find   that   wouldn't   completely   destroy   her.   destroy   them.

    slowly,   optics   moved   back   up.   she   was   still   there.   she   was   still   looking   at   him.   still   wearing   his   shirt   and   it   made   his   chest   ache   with   such   a   force   that   it   felt   impossible   that   it   hadn't   simply   given   out.   〝   i   love   you.   〞   there's   zero   hesitation,   there's   not   an   ounce   of   doubt   in   his   words.   they   came   easier   than   breathe   and   they   came   with   weight.   he   meant   them,   he   loved   her.   〝   i've   loved   you   every   single   day   for   ten   years,   roe,   and   i'm   so   fucking   sorry   for   yesterday.   〞   

     yesterday.    because   saying   last   night   couldn't   be   said.   

    the   distinction   only   mattered   to   him.   but   he   couldn't   say   it   without   admitted   something   happened   out   loud.   and   then   his   feet   finally   moved.   one   careful   step   and   then   another   until   there   was   barely   any   room   between   them,   keys   tossed   to   table   with   a   clattering   noise.   hand   lifted   on   instinct,   pausing   halfway   for   a   second,   as   if   he'd   forgetten   whether   he   still   had   the   right   to   touch   her.   it   hovered   for   a   second   before   knuckles   coasted   against   the   high   point   of   her   cheek.   〝   i   am   so   sorry,   vita   mia.   〞   my   life.   the   moniker   comes   out   little   more   than   a   whisper   and   he   could   no   longer   tell   if   he   was   now   apologising   for   the   fight   or   for   the   secret   that   would   live   between   his   ribs   for   the   rest   of   his   life.   maybe   both.   however,   by   the   time   his   forehead   came   to   rest   against   hers,   he'd   already   decided.   whatever   guilt   settles   with   this,   whatever   it   cost   him.   he'd   carry   it   alone.   she   wouldn't   know.

the nickname baby flowed easily from soft lips , something more that just that : a word . it was normalcy , it was a habit . something they were so used to saying that it became part of their daily vocabulary . the last thing they said when they went to bed to the first thing they said in the morning . but there was a heaviness with it now , their relationship on the verge of unraveling . his gaze fell from her to the hardwood beneath his boots , a shift in the room as the pounding of her heart echoed in her ears . the silence that fell between them was haunting . why was he not speaking ? why was hi all he could get out ? the male who could never stop talking seemed to be at a loss of words . arms wanted to hold him , quietly letting him know she was there . exhaustion clung to her like the shirt that hung on her frame . no hours were spent sleeping . eyes puffy from the tears that flowed from them . even after all the things that had been said , she couldn't ─ no wouldn't walk away . monroe had been mourning a relationship that seemed to be over . but she'd fight , with all she had . the two words were almost inaudible with how low he said them ; causing blue orbs to move to watch him again . his voice cracks and his shoulders tremble ; like the words were hurting him to speak . eyes blink , feet move her inches closer , words catching in her own throat . ❝ baby . . . if anyone needs to be sorry , it's me . i shouldn't have even brought it up . it's all my fault . my fault you left . . . ❞ tears start to fill her eyes again , his words cutting a bit deeper than she wanted them to . his eyes meet hers again as if he was trying to hold on to the mere image of her . barefoot , draped in old fabric , hair cascading down her back . she look ordinary , nothing spectacular but the way he just kept looking , like she was some priceless piece of art . then the words hit her . he loved her . still , even after the vicious things that spit from her lips just hours before . ❝ i love you too , teddy . so fucking much . ❞ no truer words had she ever spoken . ❝ just fucking forget yesterday . pretend it never existed . ❞ he suddenly moved , keys being dropped in the table with a clang . his feet brought him to her , only inches separated them now . she got lost in the darkness of his eyes as his hand lifted , just ever so slightly , to run his knuckles along her cheek . she leans into the feeling , tiny palms moving to rest on his wrists . ❝ stop apologizing ; sei tutto per me, il mio per sempre. ❞ his moniker for her only makes a small smile appear on petals , their foreheads touching gently . ❝ kiss me , amore mio . please . ❞

status  :  open  starter   ! @capritownstarters location :  lido bellanotte

    senses   catch   name   like   a   baseball   glove   finds   ball,   solid   and   harsh.   not   that   she's   harsh,   but   the   way   it   collides   with   him   feels   wrong   and   for   a   moment,   a   thudding   double   heartbeat,   he   thought   he'd   imagined   it.   imagined   her   standing   in   the   morning   sun.   he   didn't   answer,   he   couldn't.   fingers   still   uselessly   curled   around   metal   keys,   biting   into   the   rough   skin   of   palms   as   he   stays   still   in   the   doorway.   bloodshot   eyes   were   reluctant   to   focus   as   stomach   curls   viciously,   as   though   looking   for   too   long   might   shatter   whatever   cruel   illusion   his   tired   mind   had   conjured   up.   she   was   there.   not   in   memory.   not   in   some   whiskey   soaked,   vodka   hazed   dream   he'd   soon   wake   up   from.   there.

    optics   lingered   without   permission,   focused   on   the   shirt,   his   shirt.   the   sleeves   hanging   to   long   to   the   point   the   brushed   lower   than   elbows   the   way   it   had   always   done,   the   fabric   worn   soft   from   years   of   washes,   pungent   scent   of   whatever   floral   detergent   they'd   picked   in   last   weeks   shopping   and   his   collogne   that   clung   to   the   fabric.   she'd   claimed   it   as   hers   years   ago,   his   teasing   constant   of   stolen   items   that   they'd   stopped   pretending   that   she   ever   planned   on   giving   them   back.

       chest   caved   inwards.     breath   caught.

    it   looked   like   she   still   lived   here.   because   she   did   and   that   tightened   the   muscle   in   his   jaw.   powedered   sugar   and   melted   butter   lingers   through   the   room,   coffee   and   the   familiar   warmth   that   was   a   house   still   lived   in,   it   was   painfully   ordinary.   and   it   was   home.   yesterday   morning   could   have   looked   like   this.   yesterday   morning   …   fuck.   dark   eyes   flicker   away   from   the   sight   of   her,   the   building   ache   of   regret   settling   in   as   he   finds   the   pan   still   hot   on   the   stove,   then   the   photographs   lining   most   surfaces.   ten   years   smiled   back   at   him   from   cheap   frames   and   faded   polaroids.   beach   days,   birthdays,   dinners,   christmas   mornings   and   the   day   they   picked   their   home.   it's   a   decade   of   everything   reduced   to   frozen   little   moments,   and   each   and   every   single   one   of   them   now   felt   like   it   was   staring   back   at   him   in   accusation. 〝   hey   …   〞   it's   barely   qualified   as   a   word.   hoarse.   uneven.   all   from   a   throat   so   tight   it   became   hard   to   swallow.   feet   make   one   instinctive   step   forward   before   he   stops   himself   just   as   quickly.   for   years   now,   mornings   like   this   had   ended   the   same   way.   padded   across   kitchen,   plush   press   of   mouth   to   hairline,   eyelids,   cheeks   and   nose,   wrapped   himself   around   her   while   she   complained   he   was   getting   in   the   way   of   breakfast.   

    the   habit   lived   in   his   bones,   at   the   edges   of   soul,   his   body   remembers   it   before   his   mind   can   catch   up,   but   the   guilt   that   embeds   deeper   the   longer   he   looks   at   her,   his   feet   refuse   to   move   as   optics   drop   to   own   hands   and   imagery   of   the   night   before   floods   like   it   has   a   personal   vendetta   against   him,   without   permission.   different   fingers   in   the   space   belonging   to   monroe,   different   skin   beneath   his   palms   and   his   stomach   lurched   violently,   so   much   that   for   one   awful   second,   he   thought   he   might   be   sick.   the   silence   stretched,   lips   parted   to   speak,   but   there   wasn't   a   single   sentence   in   the   english   or   italian   language   capable   of   carrying   the   weight   that   was   sitting   on   tongue.   so   he   closed   his   mouth   again.

his name slipped easily from lips , as if it was second nature . she didn't expect him to be back . hell , she expected never to see him again . but there he was , as handsomely divine as he always was . body froze in its place , unable to mutter anything else as orbs took him in . he looked like shit . she assumed he had a long night with a bottle and someone's couch where he slept it off . the smell of the butter and sugar covered any smell that may have lingered off him ; good for her sake at least . he just looked at her . never really speaking a single utterance ; eyes red and bloodshot as his brain was trying to conjure up that she was still there . all she does is set the plate on the counter , not ready to move her feet in his direction . . . even though every being in her wants to . his blurred gaze focuses on her . but she knows he's not looking at her face . his college shirt dangles over her lanky frame , the font and emblem faded after years of endless washes . sleeves hung down past her elbows , the bottom hem barely hitting her mid-thigh . monroe had claimed it many years prior , constantly wanting the smell of him near her even if he was away . it was the only thing femme had when he left last night ; the fabric still damp from her using it as a rag to dry cheeks . the world seems to stop between them , breath catching in chests . the house felt lived in because it was . she still lived there . it was their home ; if he wanted to be there or not , it was still his . mind races back to yesterday . everything was normal , started like every day usually did . she tries to think where it all went wrong . their pictures surrounded them . holidays , vacations , graduations . all of it in tiny squares , frozen moments in time . ❝ hi . . . ❞ is all she can say , finger going to wipe a tear away from her eye and run under her nose to keep herself from letting go . blue optics notice his tiny step towards her . but no more are given . here they stand , feet away from the other when by now , they'd be wrapped up in each other if it was any other morning . she doesn't know why he doesn't speak . monroe has every apology in the world to say but nothing comes out . if she only knew . maybe everything they said last night was enough . maybe their love had run its course and this was all that was left . voice cracks as she speaks softly , tears welling up in the corners . ❝ hi baby . . . ❞ every ounce of her wants to just run to him . forget all the words that were said in anger and just be again . but by the way he's looking at her , its one of disgust . hatred  . there was nothing that she could do to fix it this time .

   𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗗𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗥   @coastvls  ( 𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘺 + 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘳𝘰𝘦 )         ⤷     𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 :     𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾.

    morning   sun   held   no   mercy.  head   pounding   in   a   steady   rhythm   as   feet   walked   the   familiar   cobbles   home.   rumpled   clothes   still   smelling   of   smoke   and   perfume   that   they   shouldn't,   keys   hanging   loose   between   fingers   as   though   they   didn't   belong   to   him.   sleep   had   evaded   him,   every   time   he'd   closed   his   eyes,   he'd   found   flashes   instead   of   rest   ―   music   bleeding   through   speakers   in   heavy   beats,   the   warmth   of   anothers   hand   in   his   and   laughter   that   had   eventually   turned   to   silence.   and   then   lips.   and   then   guilt.   guilt   that   he   shoved   into   a   neat   little   box   around   three   in   the   morning,   with   the   moonlight   catching   sunkissed   skin   in   a   way   he   hadn't   seen   in   years.   he   and   monroe   were   over,   there   was   no   guilt   necessary.   maybe   it   wasn't   clean,   maybe   it   wasn't   kind.   but   it   was   over.   and   that   was   the   only   way   he   managed   to   breathe.

    key   scraped   against   the   lock   before   finally   finding   it's   home.   a   familiar   click   and   that   creak   monroe   always   complained   about   filled   senses,   sigh   escaping.   he'd   have   to   fix   that.   but   optics,   dark   and   bloodshot   lingered   from   the   doorway.   everything   looked   the   same.   framed   pictures   on   the   wall   lining   the   hallway,   shoes   still   sat   where   he'd   kicked   them   off   and   then   tripped   over   them   three   minutes   later.   the   blanket   draped   over   the   armchair   that   hadn't   moved   an   inch   since   he'd   walked   out   the   door.   dark   eyes   wander   almost   absently   across   the   room,   as   if   he   doesn't   recognise   it   any   more.   but   then   they   stall.   his   duffle   bag.   tucked   beneath   the   console   table   where   he'd   dropped   it   after   work   last   monday,   the   jacket   that   monroe   always   stole   from   him   hung   on   the   coat   stand   by   the   door,   her   toothbrush   caught   through   the   doorway   to   the   bathroom,   a   mug   in   the   dish   rack   that   he'd   forgotten   to   put   away.   

         little   things.    mindless   things.

    the   sort   of   things   that   you   don't   think   about   until   suddenly   they   meant   everything.   chest   plummets   with   a   tighteness   he   doesn't   enjoy,   emotion   thick   in   the   back   of   throat   as   he   gasps   a   breath.   memory   of   argument   kicking   off   without   permission.   raised   voices.   frustration.   hurt.   he   remember   every   word   he   said   and   every   word   she   said.   or   did   he   ?   and   it's   in   that   moment   he   catches   the   sound   of   a   radio   he   didn't   leave   playing,   a   gentle   familiar   hum   and   the   scent   of   something   sweet   sitting   on   stove   top.   and   stomach   drops   violently.   mind   wracks   in   hopes   to   find   the   memory   that   this   was   over,   that   her   still   here   was   a   cruel   trick,   the   guilt   gnawing   at   him   as   it   slowly   crept   in.   he   had   never   been   that   guy,   ever   and   now   he   was   faced   with   the   harsh   reality   that   he   was   that   guy.

hand rested on an empty bedside , the sheets still smelling of his cologne . the smallest bits of sunlight creep through the curtains that hang against the farthest wall . eyes open with soft blinks , a heavy sigh leaving lips . dreams had been filled with the memories of the night prior ; sleep coming in short phases . femme sits up , hand brushing blonde tendrils from round face as eyes take in the sight before her . his shoes still sitting by the bathroom door , clothes still hung in the closet ; even one of his old t-shirts adorned her frame . but yet , there was no him . cheeks were stained red and eyes puffy from the hours of crying ; this had been the fight of all fights , the one that ended it all . ten years . gone in a second . over what ? something so fickle that it was not even worth mentioning now . yet the house was filled with them : pictures aligning every wall , few memories thrown into frames that sat on side tables and hung on the fridge . none of that mattered now , however . their flame had burned out . feet drag her as monroe descends the stairs , signs of their decade long love nearly screaming at her from every angle . hand lazily runs along the banister , toes sinking into the carpet below them . body moves slowly as it heads into the kitchen . his chair still sat askew from the table where he'd put his shoes on every morning . coffee mug resting in the drying rack from where he'd forgotten to put it away . hand rests against the back of her neck , blue orbs scanning . everything reminded her of him . in the living room , the throw blanket rested on the back of the oversized arm chair where teddy left it . his jacket that she often stole hanging on the hook . it was if nothing had transpired . no words had been exchanged , words had not been screamed , voices raised above the tv . everything was perfectly normal . a darkness hung over the house as she turned her attention to the stovetop , stomach growling softly to bring her back to the present time . life had to move on even if she didn't want it to . distraction . she needed a distraction . eyes find the radio , fingers moving nimbly to turn the knob to a station . anything but sad songs . come on , anything . a bright , bubbly pop song appears through the static ; one that the blonde actually happens to know . turning it up , she doesn't hear the key in the lock followed by the door opening . he was here but she had no idea . humming along to the song , femme pulls a pan from the cabinet , turning the stove on . french toast was her breakfast of choice . hands work nervously to make it , placing it in the pan . the house soon smelled of sweetness ; that powdered sugar filling her nostrils . monroe hums and soon turns to face the living room , plate nearly dropping at the sight . ❝ teddy . . . ? ❞

𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿,              𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗍𝗈        :       @coastvls  ,  dealer's  choice.            ⤷      𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧      :    casa   azzurra.

───  open  to  anyone ! ( @capritownstarters ) ───  location:  casa  azzurra.