Currently thinking about Enzo the not-completely-enkraticā¦
Thinking about him only ever taking a drag or two from a cigarette, a few quick puffs before tossing it out.
Thinking about him only ever getting tipsy, having enough to seem social while not allowing himself to fall head first into the hands of vice.
Thinking about him enjoying the glances a lady might steal of him but not entertaining them too much.
Thinking about him just tasting the tip of a blade before drawing himself back up again, prevailing over death time and time again.
Thinking about him just touching the oleander without giving into any human urge to pick something thatās pretty.
Thinking about Enzo Favara teasing any and all acquaintance of deathās or pleasureās just to prove he can. That he wonāt get caught by its burrs.
Thinking about him wanting to prove his worth by his sheer force of will and resistance alone. That he isnāt susceptible to the common, stumbling fallacies that smoking equals sophistication or drinking with friends equals charisma or any indulgence equals anything other than some mess to clean up on a later date.
Thinking about how heās partly a hypocrite for giving into these things at all, but also canāt be further from it for staying cleaned up and moderated as he does.
Thinking about him with his ashtray full of cigarette buds and his empty whiskey bottles strewn about his apartment after Luca passing.
Thinking about Enzoā¦
