Thank you to Batty Dings, SloaneDestler, Pensez-a-Erik, YinuoTong, Child of Dreams, EvaLark, TheTenthMuseSappho, smrb, Aphaea21, FleshofMidnight, Phantomgirl24, Teen543 for the lovely reviews!

Note: A couple of people voiced confusion over Nadir's intentions/whether he's actually good or bad. Honestly, I can't tell if this means I wrote him badly or really well lol. I'm hoping it's the latter :) Anyway, the next chapter will reveal what happened between Christine being taken by the Echo and Erik arriving with the lasso! :)

Enjoy!


Erik

Chapter 60

The Stag

Luciana did tell Vincenzo.

And, as intelligent and willful and full-of-life that she was, it was little surprise that Vincenzo loved her back.

He told me this himself when we sat playing cards.

"It's odd," he said, ad I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat. "I used to see her as a little girl. Annoying and loud and far too energetic. But now?" He looked at his cards and smiled softly. "Now, honestly, I think she's beautiful. In every way. I've thought so for some time now, but I pushed the idea aside." He looked at me again. "When she told me her feelings, I went to Giovanni the moment our conversation ended. I wanted his permission to court her. And he said yes. He said he approves." He shrugged. "Sorry for rambling. I'm simply...I'm very happy."

"I'm happy for you," I said too quietly, finding that I had some difficulty focusing on the cards. The world seemed foggy.

To my relief, he changed the subject after that.


I read more now.

I became a bit less social around my family.

I saw Luciana's and Vincenzo's courtship everywhere. I forced myself, now, to spend time with her on the roof, or speak easily with him. When I taught Carmelo to play piano or talked over breakfast with Giovanni, I remembered that, in the back of my mind, Carmelo was her twin. Giovanni was her father. That both of them were enthusiastic about Vincenzo loving their sister and daughter. I couldn't help wonder if they'd feel differently if it was me rather than him.

Vincenzo had a face like a prince. I looked like the monster in the castle's dungeon.

Only Salvatore's presence brought me peace. Helped me forget.

It was late, extremely so, into the night when a soft knock came to the door.

"Come in," I said, without looking up from my book, as I read in my bed.

Salvatore opened the door, stepped inside, and shut it behind him. I closed my book, using my thumb as a bookmark.

"Is everything all right?" I asked him.

"For me? Yes." He went to the table and sat, looking at me.

"Oh." I waited for him to speak, but when he didn't, I cleared my throat. "It's rather late."

"It is."

Another long pause.

"Are you...sure everything is all right?" I said again. Normally if he came here unannounced, it was to read silently with me. But he had no book. He merely had his piercing stare.

"Yes, Erik, everything is fine with me."

"Then why are...not to be rude, but why are you here?"

He lifted his chin. "I am waiting for you to tell me what is troubling you. I figure if I sit here long enough, it will come out."

I looked down. "Everything is fine with me."

"No, everything isn't. You've become silent, ever since Luciana and Vincenzo became a pair. And Vincenzo and the Billisis are all too happy, I think, to notice that something is wrong with you - well, let me take that back. I wouldn't say Carmelo is ecstatic. He's clearly pleased his sister is happy, his friend too, but I can see him turn a bit green at the idea of Vincenzo - of anyone - with his twin." He regarded me. "But I have noticed a change. What about their pairing has you upset."

I sighed, but stayed quiet.

"I can take a guess, but I don't want to make assumptions."

"Your assumptions are probably correct," I said softly.

A short length of quiet.

"Erik," said Salvatore, "have you ever loved a girl before Luciana?"

I shook my head.

"Then her choosing someone else is going to sting more than it probably should."

I looked at Salvatore. He was a big man. Strong-looking. But so gentle - gentle in the eyes, in his face. Quiet, unassuming. But capable of protecting himself and his own. He was a stag, standing tall and minding only himself, but unafraid to ram his horns and charge if the situation called for it.

"I think it would hurt the same no matter what," I said. "And I know you must think my reaction too strong. It's not as though she outright rejected me - I never even told her how I feel. I know you think that...that I should merely overcome it-"

"I don't think that," he said. He frowned and shook his head. "No, not at all."

"You don't think I'm being, I don't know...dramatic."

"No."

"Then what do you think?"

"I think..." He looked away. In his thinking, he brought his hand up and scratched his jaw. "Erik, I have been rejected before. I have tried time and again to find love here in Venice. But I find that white women are more interested in experiencing the color of my skin for a night than actually being courted by me."

I frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Many men would be pleased to know that women only want him for fun. I'm simply not one of those men. So I have had my fair share of rejection, as well."

I felt myself go red with shame. "So then you do think I am being-"

"No, I already said no." He looked down at the table, thinking again. When he spoke, it was with a soft voice. "Did you know that when babies experience their first bruise, they cry as if it is the worst thing that has ever happened to them? Because it is. Up until that point, they have never experienced pain before, so the sensation is new to them."

I listened for him to continue.

"Now, do the parents - kind, good parents, as I am sure there are exceptions - do the parents roll their eyes and tell them to suck up their sadness, that others have experienced worse?"

"No," I whispered. I thought for a moment of Marie, her constant loving nature, and had to push her from my mind. I'd done so well of forgetting her, Sasha and Cerberus. I wouldn't think of them now.

"No," he agreed. "Pain is relative. Tolerance to pain is learned. And anyone that tells you that you have no right to be feeling what you are feeling can, in my opinion, fuck right off."

I smiled.

"Not only do you have little experience with this pain," he said, "but you also have trauma from your past. With what you've been through, no doubt you should feel pain more strongly. No doubt rejection should hurt more. But this trauma need not be an enemy. We can cry, scream at it. Ask it why it won't go away. Try to ignore it, knowing it doesn't leave."

I closed my eyes, that lump in my throat again.

"Or," he continued, "we can sit with it. Talk to it. Love it. Accept it. Let it be. Those that hurt us often don't get what should have come to them. Sometimes they do - but even then, it doesn't make our own pain go away. We can forgive without forgetting. We can move on without accepting what we don't need to accept. And above all, we can let go of the idea that our pain is our fault. Because it is not. It never was."