*1929*
The first sensation that greeted his returning consciousness was the familiar comfort of a mattress or bed beneath him. Initially, he assumed he was peacefully asleep in his own room at home. However, as the fog gradually lifted from his mind, he began to realize the absurdity of his initial assumption. Recollection evaded him regarding his journey back home; the last thing etched in his memory was his presence in Valvano's office.
His eyes snapped open, and a wave of panic surged through him as he frantically surveyed his surroundings. He found himself tucked into an unfamiliar bed within an unknown room. Despite the cozy and inviting ambiance, it was not the kind of place he would have expected Valvano to reside. However, he knew better than to accept things at face value. With a sense of urgency, he sat up and realized he was fully dressed, feeling no physical repercussions from whatever had transpired.
Raising his hand to brush away a stray lock of hair from his face, he discovered a disconcerting sight—an inexplicable reddish substance stained his palm. The dried and crusty crimson residue triggered a vivid memory, one he wished to suppress. It brought back the image of blood splattering across his hand as he witnessed the letter opener's blade sliding up to the hilt, piercing Valvano's neck. He vividly recalled his desperate plea, a futile warning to prevent Valvano from removing the dagger-shaped office tool from his carotid artery. But his words fell on deaf ears as Valvano disregarded the plea, the act resulting in a catastrophic gush of blood. Valvano's futile attempt to staunch the flow with his hand only hastened his demise. The older man's life slipped away in mere moments, his body collapsing onto his stomach as the light faded from his eyes.
In that weakened state, Valvano's gaze reproachfully met the younger man's. The dark brown orbs held both accusation and fear, silently conveying that the blame for his untimely death rested upon the boy who now stood in the room, forever burdened by the weight of guilt. And fear for where his spirit would go as his life left his body.
As he glanced down at his dress shirt, his heart sank at the sight of bloodstains splattered across the fabric. The once pristine white was now tainted, a visible reminder of the gruesome events that unfolded the previous night. The knees of his trousers were stiff and darkened as well, bearing witness to his involvement in a heinous act. The weight of the memories flooded his mind, confirming the unthinkable truth—he had taken a life.
What made the situation even more harrowing was the identity of his victim. It was someone intricately tied to the family, an association deemed essential by Pops. His Old Man had orchestrated the introduction to Valvano, intending for him to become a padrone to the young mafia associate, his mentor within the life. However, the gravity of his actions meant dire consequences awaited him.
Valvano's connections with other influential families like the Profaci's, the Maranzano's, and the Masseria's only compounded the impending danger. The bloodshed he had caused would undoubtedly demand retribution, with those families seeking vengeance for the loss they had suffered. The chilling reality set-in—he would be offered up as sacrificial appeasement by his own father who would readily betray him to preserve their standing within the criminal underworld.
"Anthony..." The voice, laden with familiarity, pierced through his anxiety-stricken thoughts. Yet, in his distressed state, he failed to immediately recognize the speaker. Unbeknownst to him, someone had entered the room, their presence eluding his awareness. Only when a hand gently rested on his shoulder did he startle, his body tensing instinctively. As he turned to face the source of the touch, his gaze locked with the sage green eyes of Luca Celani.
In that moment, a mixture of relief and trepidation washed over him, only to be swiftly replaced by a growing sense of unease. Anthony's mind raced as he reminded himself of the grim reality of their world. Luca Celani, despite being a familiar face and a source of solace, was not just a trusted confidant; he was also a member of his own family, a Caporegime, one of the street captains.
The rules within the mafia were harsh and unforgiving. It was not uncommon for members of the family to be tasked with eliminating those deemed problematic or disloyal. In this treacherous realm, one could never truly trust even their closest companions. A seemingly innocent encounter could swiftly turn into a deadly betrayal, with a trusted friend, brother, or even a father pulling the trigger without hesitation.
As Anthony surveyed the room, his heart sank further. The absence of anyone else signaled that the situation had narrowed down to just the two of them. If he was indeed here to be executed, the presence of Luca was likely a calculated move to lull him into a false sense of security before the fatal blow was delivered.
"Where..." Anthony's voice emerged hoarse and raspy, reflecting his inner turmoil. He glanced around the unfamiliar guest room, his unease growing with each passing moment. "Where am I?" he finally managed to utter, his words filled with uncertainty and a desperate longing for answers.
"Celani Del Vento," Luca responded. "That's my family's winery. Don't worry, you're safe here. Andreioli is conducting an investigation into what happened. You were in shock after the incident, and you've been somewhat disoriented for a couple of days now."
Anthony hugged his arms tightly around himself, overwhelmed by fear. "A lot of good that'll do... Pops will make sure I'll end up dead, no matter what he discovers."
"You know," Celani replied, his voice filled with concern. "While you were drifting in and out of consciousness, you managed to share fragments of what happened... or at least enough for me to piece together. According to what I heard you saying, Valvano summoned you to his office. He confronted you about something and how it could potentially jeopardize the Ragno Family. It seems he was attempting to coerce you into something by threatening to expose your secret to the other families if you refused."
"Yeah," the golden-haired boy confirmed with a sigh. "It won't make a damn difference to the other families. I offed a high-ranking associate with some serious connections. And my old man, he'll have no choice but to bend over backward to satisfy their demands and keep the fragile peace between the families intact. What I've done has the potential to ignite a full-blown gang war."
"I informed Enzo of some of what you revealed to me," Luca explained earnestly. "He assured me that he would pass that information onto Andreioli. You did the right thing by reaching out to him first, and I'm confident that he will carefully consider the information you provided."
"What? When?" Anthony asked frantically, his voice filled with panic.
"Last night," Luca explained, pointing towards a rucksack sitting in the corner of the room. "When he came by to deliver some of your belongings."
"Oh, no... God, no," Anthony said fearfully, his voice trembling. "What have you done, Celani? This only exposes me as a queer, if my Pops doesn't hand me over to the other families for execution. He will make sure I'm no longer a problem for the family."
"I'm aware that the Don and Enzo know about your sexual orientation, and I understand their concerns about keeping it discreet within the family and from the other families," Celani asked gently. "But were you involved with someone or engaged in any activities that might have given Valvano the impression this was something he could use against you?"
"No, nothing like that," Anthony sighed heavily. "That's the very reason my old man wanted me involved with that prostitution ring. He thought it would desensitize me and prepare me for what I'm supposed to do with women. He even mentioned that when I turn 18, he'll buy me a hooker, claiming that having a first time with a woman is one of life's milestones of manhood and that I can't hide behind the excuse of being too young at that age."
"So you were acting in self-defense," Luca pointed out. "That should carry some weight in your favor. It's crucial to consider that aspect since Valvano was the one who attacked you."
"The other families won't see it that way," Anthony said, his voice laden with anxiety. A tremor passed through his body. "Sure, he attacked me. But guys like Maranzano, they'd want to know what reasons would lead to that. They'll question it, doubt it. It's a tough sell for anything. I mean, when something like this happens to women, they're dragged through the mud and treated like they deserved it. But with fella's... that kind of shit is seen as impossible. It's not something that is viewed as possible for men to do to other men. So whether it was self-defense or not, it won't matter."
"Maybe," Celani said, his tone thoughtful. "Or maybe not. This investigation is bound to take a few months to complete. However, Enzo mentioned something to me. He said there have been murmurs of unrest among the families. It seems like this conflict has been simmering for a while now. If it does erupt, it might be significant enough to overshadow everything with Valvano. Perhaps this turmoil could provide an opportunity for things to settle."
*End Flashback*
"This whole thing went down towards the tail end of the year, around November," Angel recalled. "The family gatherings during that time were a real whirlwind, and Luca and I... had to stay away from our folks. We had to be careful about where we were seen, for our safety and the safety of our loved ones. You see, there was this underworld crew known as 'Murder Incorporated' that had sprung up. They were basically the muscle, handling all kinds of dirty business. Initially, it was mainly members from the Jewish Mafia crews in the city, but the Italians got in on it too. One of the Italian guys leading them was a real ruthless character known as Albert Anastasia. While people could say whatever they wanted about Capone, Anastasia was the true terror of the criminal world. In short, he relished in the violence. Due to his fearsome reputation, he was given several nicknames like "Mad Hatter," "One-Man Army," and "Lord High Executioner," and he lived up to every one of them. So, with him involved, these were not the kind of guys you wanted on your tail. They'd eliminate anyone who looked like a threat to the crime outfits—rival mobsters, witnesses, informants, and potential betrayers. And of course, Valvano's untimely passing didn't take long to spread around as murder. There was no way I could be seen walking downtown without someone taking matters into their own hands. So, the word on the street that Andreioli was spreading was that I had indeed been involved in an altercation with Valvano, but he hesitated to call it murder. Valvano was notorious for his temper and could be rather physical, according to the guys that had worked for him previously. So, until the investigation was concluded, I was being sent on a job outside the city until something had been settled. They placed me under what you would call 'exile.' This sort of thing was a punishment for violations of conduct. Occasionally, it was a punishment handed out for internal disputes within the family and those involved in the life."
"Luca had been given a temporary break from the family, keepin' a close eye on me," Angel explained with a bitter chuckle. "You know, actin' as my guardian 'til the investigation blew over. But since we were two fellas sharin' a place outside the city, it could raise some eyebrows. Pops didn't know Luca swung both ways, and Luca never let on that he knew I was gay. So, just to be safe, Luca asked a couple of his crew to hang around the winery and make sure I didn't do anything foolish, like tryin' to make a run for it. Pops liked the idea of havin' extra eyes on me, but he couldn't spare the manpower 'cause of that whole Market Crash fiasco Alastor mentioned when he showed up at the Hotel."
"The one in 1929," Charlie confirmed.
"That's the one," Angel confirmed. "A bunch of New York big shots had tossed billions into stocks, only to watch it disappear overnight, leaving folks high and dry. That's when the 'Great Depression' hit us, piling on top of the mess from Prohibition. People lost jobs, homes got snatched away, and businesses closed up shop—real rough times for everyone. Desperation was in the air, folks selling off everything they had—cars, belongings, even their own kin, just to get some grub on the table. Mothers doing things they never thought they would, just to make sure their young ones ate. It was a dark time. Just like when booze was hard to come by during Prohibition, Pops seized any chance to exploit folks, all under the guise of helping. He dabbled in loan sharking, squeezing labor unions, blackmail, and dealing in stuff on the black market. But because of all this, Pops couldn't spare any of his guys. All he could do was let Luca know that if I tried something... well, Luca had it under control."
"But considering you were away from the city," Charlie suggested, "perhaps both of you could have left and started anew, creating fresh lives for yourselves."
"Believe me, we had the yearning," Angel replied, his tone tinged with sadness. "But it wasn't as easy as it might seem. The Great Depression was a monster that didn't just haunt New York—it spread its misery worldwide. It was a global affair, and the US was just its latest victim. A massive hurdle that dragged on for a brutal ten years. While Luca and I might've thought about hightailing it and starting fresh, the options were slim. The cities were drowning in sky-high unemployment and financial chaos. Plus, smack dab in the heartland, they were dealin' with these hellish dust storms that wrecked farmlands, making it impossible to grow a damn thing. No crops meant no cash, and for many, it meant no chow. A whole bunch of folks lost their lives during those years—some from starvation, others pushed to the brink, takin' their own lives or the lives of their kin 'cause they couldn't see a way out."
"Even without that damn Great Depression lurking," Angel continued, his voice tinged with resignation. "Luca was a full-fledged member of the family. Once you're in, you're in for good. Only ways out are either in a body bag or turnin' yourself over to the feds for witness protection. And even though I wasn't officially a Made Guy, I'd made a commitment to the family. So, even if I had little to spill as an informant, decidin' to split from the family would've marked me a traitor. Both Luca and I would've spent the rest of our lives watchin' our backs, livin' in fear."
"It's true, we found ways to keep ourselves busy over at the winery," Angel explained. "We managed to build a sort of makeshift family, a support system of sorts. The neighboring farms took notice of what we were up to, and Luca would often spin the tale that it was time to restore his old man's legacy. Prohibition made it tricky for him to focus solely on fixing up the wine press or diving into winemaking. But he found other tasks to keep us occupied. The story he crafted for me was that I was a cousin who'd been city-bound and decided to join him in bringing the winery back to life. So, the other families 'round here would invite us over for family meals or share spare goods. Tough times, you know. Having a supportive community around us mattered."
"That don't mean it was smooth sailin', though," Angel sighed heavily. "Nightmares haunted me, echoes of the torment from those corrective sessions. Most nights, I'd jolt awake, realizin' I was safe at home, tryin' desperately to fall back asleep. But more often than not, sleep slipped through my grasp, just like the fragments of those dreams. Sometimes, I'd wake up screamin', and both Pops and Fratello would hear it, like they always did. Fratello would get up, tellin' me he didn't care if I had to turn to drugs, just to get some shut-eye and stay that way. Pops, though, he'd bellow from his room, orderin' me to keep it in check, threatenin' to drag me down to the basement if I couldn't. His message was clear: if I had to cry out, I should do it where no one could hear."
"After Valvano," Angel continued, his voice weighed down by the memories. "The nightmares shifted, twistin' into haunting visions of that hospital cell. This time, it was Pops who'd show up, declarin' he was lockin' me away for good. He cut ties, considerin' me dead to him. Other times, I'd find myself relivin' the moments before those shock treatments, but instead of questions about bein' into men, I'd be confronted with pictures of Valvano's lifeless body, interrogated about why I'd taken his life. And sometimes, Valvano himself would haunt my dreams, takin' on the role of the shrink, tauntin' me about the pain he'd inflict till I joined him in Hell. And then there were dreams where I'd be in Valvano's office just after I'd killed him. But this time, it was Pops who'd appear. He'd look at the lifeless body on the floor, and dependin' on the dream, he'd either end me right there, or he'd order Fratello to dispose of my body outside the city, so it'd never be found."
Charlie's breath hitched as she struggled to suppress an involuntary gasp. The harrowing nightmares that plagued Angel were unmistakably rooted in deep-seated trauma, a haunting reminder of his unresolved pain. It was evident that this trauma had gone unaddressed and hadn't been talked about for a long time, leaving him unable to find true means of healing. The temporary relief offered by medication or alcohol only served to intensify and intertwine the haunting experiences, exacerbating the Spider's suffering.
In the midst of this turmoil, Cherri Bomb remained a rare source of solace for Angel, offering him a temporary respite from his burdens. He allowed himself to be vulnerable around her, finding a momentary escape from the weight of his pain. However, Charlie couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there were still significant issues left unaddressed and unacknowledged. Deep in her heart, she sensed that even more challenging obstacles lay ahead.
These realizations fueled Charlie's determination to support Angel wholeheartedly, regardless of the potential pain it might cause her. She understood that for healing to begin, his story needed to be fully heard and acknowledged. No matter how difficult it was for him to share, it was crucial for the raw wounds to be exposed, allowing the process of healing to commence.
With unwavering resolve, Charlie prepared herself to listen attentively, creating a safe space for Angel to openly express his deepest fears, traumas, and struggles. She knew that it would be an arduous and emotionally taxing journey, but she was committed to standing by him, providing the support and understanding he needed.
"It was in those moments that I thanked my lucky stars for havin' Luca by my side," Angel Dust acknowledged, his voice brimming with gratitude. "Bein' with him in that old house, it meant the world. He couldn't make the nightmares vanish entirely, but he gave me a kind of comfort and support I'd never known before. Even from my own blood."
*1929*
The late autumn moon dimly lit Anthony's room at the winery, despite the warm blankets that covered his form, the chill of the night seeped in through the closed windows with the cold promise of early winter. The muffled sounds of the wind outside the closed window, a stark contrast to the nightmare that played out in the boys mind.
Anthony's small room was adorned with sparse furniture, the filtering moonlight casting eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper. His narrow bed seemed to constrict around him as he tossed and turned, caught in the clutches of his terrifying vision.
Sweat-soaked sheets clung to Anthony's feverish body as he found himself ensnared in a horrifying hallucination. In the hallucination, he was strapped tightly to a padded medical table, unable to break free from his restraints. The harsh, malicious face of Valvano leered down at him, a twisted grin etched across his sinister features. Valvano's hand hovered ominously over the menacing switch, ready to unleash a surge of electricity that would send shockwaves through Anthony's fragile form.
Desperation clawed at Anthony's heart, urging him to protest, to scream out in resistance against this unfathomable torment. But as he tried to summon words, they twisted and contorted, emerging as nothing but incoherent moans of agony, a pitiful testament to the excruciating pain he had already endured in this nightmarish tableau.
Anthony's body convulsed involuntarily, the cruel restraints biting into his flesh, rendering him utterly helpless. The world around him warped and twisted, blending into a maelstrom of torment where every sensation was a symphony of suffering. Thoughts shattered and fragmented, leaving him unable to form anything resembling a cohesive idea. All that consumed his consciousness was the grim anticipation of the impending horror about to be unleashed upon him.
"Anthony!" The urgency in the voice cut through the nightmarish haze, but Anthony struggled to register the source, lost in the depths of his torment. As if from a great distance, the voice called out again, a lifeline in the darkness, trying to reach him through the suffocating fog of fear and pain. The edges of the vision began to blur, the malevolent figure of Valvano and the nightmarish tableau slowly fading into the background.
In Anthony's nightmare, the sadistic Valvano reveled in his malevolent desires, savoring every perverse moment of this cruel act. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled the switch, the atmosphere thick with malice. The twin, knife-like prongs made contact, and an electrifying surge shot through Anthony's frail body, a tsunami of unimaginable agony crashing through him.
A guttural, piercing cry of torment escaped Anthony's lips, a primal sound that echoed the depths of his anguish. The room seemed to shudder with the force of his suffering, the walls closing in on him as if to share in his pain. His body convulsed uncontrollably, the restraints digging cruelly into his flesh, amplifying the torment. The pain consumed him, engulfing his senses and leaving him trapped in a relentless world of suffering. Time seemed to distort, each moment an eternity of agony. Thoughts shattered like glass, and the world blurred into a nightmarish whirlpool, a maelstrom of suffering and despair.
But even in this hellish abyss, buried deep within the recesses of his tortured mind, a flicker of resilience remained. A stubborn will to survive, to overcome, burned dimly. And as the echoes of his cries reverberated in the room, it whispered a desperate promise that he would fight, claw, and endure, to escape this abominable fate and return to the realm of the living.
The golden-haired boy let out a strangled cry as he was ripped from the clutches of the haunting nightmare. His consciousness hit him like a ton of bricks, a stark contrast to the harrowing dreamscape he had just escaped. He shot up in bed, breath ragged and body trembling with the remnants of fear and adrenaline.
His surroundings slowly came into focus as the fog of disorientation began to lift. The dimly lit room, adorned with vintage furniture and sparse decor, felt both familiar and alien in the wake of the nightmare. A flickering candle on the bedside table cast dancing shadows across the peeling wallpaper, adding an eerie atmosphere to the room.
"Anthony..." The voice came again, gently coaxing. A hand landed on his shoulder to gain his attention, before he felt himself being pulled into an embrace.
"No!" Anthony's cry was filled with desperation, his voice carrying the weight of fear and turmoil as he fought against the encircling arms that enveloped him. "Please, just leave me alone!"
His instinct to break free fueled his resistance, his body straining against the gentle yet persistent hold. The arms, warm and steady, remained steadfast, their touch neither rough nor restraining, but unwavering in their support.
As Anthony pushed against the body he was being held against, his movements fueled by residual fear and confusion, he felt a gentle hand cup the back of his head, guiding it to rest against a firm chest. His racing thoughts began to slow as he heard a rhythmic thumping sound – the steady beat of a heart. It was an oddly calming and reassuring sound that cut through the fog of panic, grounding him in the present moment.
With each beat resonating in his ear, Anthony's movements gradually slowed. The familiarity of the heartbeat seeped into his consciousness, grounding him in the present moment. The steady rhythm began to synchronize with his own erratic heartbeat, aligning with a comforting cadence.
In that shared rhythm, he realized that the arms holding him were not a threat, but a source of comfort and care. He began to sense the genuine concern and love behind the embrace, a realization that pierced through the remnants of his nightmare.
Despite his initial resistance, a sense of safety washed over Anthony. The warmth emanating from the embrace enveloped him, eroding the walls of fear and isolation he had built up. He began to surrender, gradually relinquishing his fight as he embraced the solace that was being offered.
As the racing thoughts subsided and his breaths steadied, Anthony allowed himself to lean into the embrace fully. He let go of the tension in his muscles, releasing the fear and anguish that had bound him. The comfort and reassurance of the moment began to replace the lingering shadows of the nightmare.
As the tension eased from his body, Anthony realized that he was not alone in his struggles. He felt the depth of the care and concern that emanated from the person who held him, their gentle touch and steady heartbeat serving as a reminder that he was safe and valued.
"You seem to be calmin' down," Luca said as he eased the hold his arms had around the younger man. "You okay?"
Anthony didn't answer; he was too embarrassed that he had even revealed this hint of weakness. Society dictated that men should never display emotions, and instead tough things out, bottling up their feelings inside. He had painstakingly tried to stifle his anguished screams by burying his face in the pillow or forcing his pain-filled sobs to be silent when he was certain he was alone and everyone else was fast asleep.
Despite feeling secure in Luca's embrace, he understood that seeking solace in this temporary living arrangement would only lead to heartache once they returned to the city. The safety he found now was fragile, a flickering candle in the gusts of societal expectations. Anthony was caught between the struggle for mental well-being and the crushing weight of societal norms.
With a pained expression, Anthony forced himself to break away from the other man. "Didn't mean to wake you up," the golden-haired boy muttered, his tone laced with irritation. "As you can see, I'm fine..." He laid back down, attempting to mask his internal turmoil beneath a façade of nonchalance.
"You need someone here with you, Tony," Luca gently admonished, concern evident in his voice. "That sounded like you were going through a hell of a nightmare."
Anthony hesitated, caught between the desire to accept the concern and the weight of societal expectations. Luca's genuine care tugged at his heart, making him reconsider his earlier instinct to retreat. He took a moment to compose himself, trying to find the words to convey his gratitude and struggle.
"I'm fine, Celani," Anthony grumbled, his voice muffled as he buried himself deeper in the bed covers. "I'm sure your bed is beckoning you, so you should go."
Luca could sense the mix of stubbornness and vulnerability in Anthony's words. He understood the fear that accompanied reaching out for comfort and relying on someone else. But he also knew the importance of breaking through those barriers.
"If it's all the same to you," Luca replied softly, his voice filled with determination, "I'm going to stay right here with you until I know you've fallen asleep. There's no one here to judge us for this."
Luca's words carried a comforting reassurance, as he sought to create a safe space for Anthony to let down his guard and find solace in their presence.
"You're really going to do this," Anthony retorted, his voice tinged with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. "You're going to treat me like I can't handle being alone."
Luca's voice softened as he replied, "I'm going to treat you like a guest in my home. While we both share this space for now, this house is ultimately mine. And as a host, it's my responsibility to ensure the comfort of my guests. I'm not asking for anything personal from you; I simply feel compelled to stay until I'm certain you've found restful sleep."
His words conveyed a genuine sense of hospitality, emphasizing his intention to provide support without intruding on Anthony's personal boundaries. "Let me be here for you, at least in that respect."
"Suit yourself," Anthony grumbled, his eyes tightly shut as he rolled onto his stomach, silently yearning for the older man to blow out the candle and depart.
The golden-blond haired boy felt his body jolt in surprise as Luca's gentle hand traced circles along his back. The gesture wasn't overtly intimate or suggestive, as the barrier of the blankets remained between them. This was the kind of caring touch he had always longed for from Enzo whenever he was sick or distressed. It seemed unjust that Luca could display such brotherly concern, while his own Fratello couldn't be bothered to do the same.
Conflicting emotions churned within Anthony as he grappled with the warmth of Luca's gestures. The gentle circles on his back offered a sense of comfort, a stark contrast to the emotional distance he often experienced with his own family. A part of him wanted to push Luca away, to maintain his carefully constructed emotional barriers. But another part longed for the connection and care that was being offered.
In that vulnerable moment, Anthony found himself torn between the past and the present, between his pride and the genuine support being extended. He wrestled with the idea that perhaps he could find the family he craved in the most unexpected places, and maybe, just maybe, he could allow himself to embrace it.
Before he could stop himself, a sob hitched in his throat, and tears streamed down his cheeks without restraint. Luca's brotherly ministrations came to a halt. Anthony hastily buried his face into his pillow, consumed by a mix of anger and frustration. The uncontrollable display of vulnerability only reinforced his belief that he was weak and pathetic, a confirmation that Luca would be more than relieved to be rid of him once the investigation concluded.
His body tensed as Luca moved aside some of the bedding. He only left the sheet and another blanket as a barrier between Anthony and his pajamaed body before pulling the other boy close.
"I'm right here," Luca whispered softly, his voice brimming with comfort. "You're okay."
Anthony's tears cascaded down his cheeks, consumed by the profound compassion conveyed in Luca's words. Luca epitomized the very essence of the sibling he had always yearned for, a steadfast ally who comprehended and bolstered him without reservation.
Anthony held no grudge against Enzo for not living up to his lofty expectations of a brother. He understood the shared torment they endured under Pops' oppressive influence. However, the pain lingered, knowing that Enzo exhibited minimal concern for either of his younger siblings, leaving Anthony to shoulder his pain alone.
"Why?" Anthony finally voiced the complaint that had been silently echoing in his heart ever since the night Luca had welcomed him into his home. "Why can't my Fratello be like you?"
His question carried the weight of longing and frustration, a plea for an understanding he had kept buried within himself until this moment. Luca made no response to the emotionally wounded boy he held in his arms. It wasn't the place to answer; he could only be a comforting presence to bear witness to Anthony's grief.
In the stillness of that vulnerable moment, as the tears continued to fall and the weight of years of unspoken pain pressed down on Anthony's chest, he began to recognize that healing was a journey, and it started with acknowledging and expressing his deepest, most painful emotions. And in Luca's embrace, he found the courage to do just that.
*end flash back*
"How long were you and Luca at that winery?" Charlie inquired, her voice filled with concern. As tears welled up in her eyes, she found herself struggling to hold them back. Though she wasn't fully crying, the heart-wrenching revelation she had just heard weighed heavily on her. It was especially poignant considering Angel's upbringing, marked by a profound lack of love and care from those around him. The few individuals who did care for him had either been taken away or suffered tragic fates.
In a world that seemed intent on denying him the space to grieve, Angel had been forced to bottle up his pain, to numb it away, and to suppress any display of emotion. This moment at the winery was a witnessed outpouring of grief—a rare occasion where he could finally release some of the pent-up anguish without being reprimanded for it. Yet, even in this moment, his expression of sorrow wasn't treated as a welcomed relief; it was an overwhelming eruption that had been contained for far too long. It was a mournful plea, questioning why his own brother couldn't find it within himself to care about what was happening.
Charlie herself understood that Arackniss, or whoever he was in his past life, was bound by Don Ragno's control. Every decision he made had to align with their father's authority. Although Arackniss occasionally showed glimpses of care and expressed concern for his younger siblings, he mostly remained passive, allowing events to unfold without intervention. It was unclear whether he harbored fear of the consequences that awaited him if he spoke up or if he simply convinced himself that there was nothing he could do.
Still, Charlie couldn't help but feel unsettled by Arackniss's inaction. She believed there must have been something he could have done, some solace he could have provided for his younger brother away from the watchful eyes of Don Ragno. It seemed implausible that he was completely oblivious to the extent of his brother's misery, yet he did nothing to alleviate his pain and grief. Instead, Angel was left to bear the weight of everything alone.
What troubled Charlie even more was the realization that Angel's human life had a mere seventeen years left before it came to a tragic end, followed by an eternity of torment in Hell, spanning over seventy years. The thought of Angel enduring such prolonged suffering weighed heavily on her, fueling her frustration and concern for his well-being.
"We were there..." Angel Dust said, his voice tinged with a touch of nostalgia. "About two years. Luca had left some of his clothes at the winery when he took off with Mamma Celani for the city. Most of them were those grubby workman's outfits, more suited for farm work than the glamorous city life we were used to. But hey, whatever works, and it wasn't like he could drop by home to pick up some things. I guess he always expected he'd return to his father's winery eventually."
The white-furred spider leaned back slightly on the rock as he continued reminiscing. "As for food, Luca's mom had some stockpiles of preserves in the basement. That's one of the good things about Southern Italian cuisine—preserving is a fine art. That area of Italy is rural... not quite third world bad, but still impoverished. So anything that could be smoked, dried, pickled, made into sauce or oil was all goods that could be traded for other goods, a means of getting by. It was like our own little treasure trove of food down there. And she had a small vegetable and herb garden too, although it was pretty neglected due to Luca and his Mamma being away. Weeds everywhere, but we managed to salvage some decent stuff from it."
Angel Dust smirked mischievously. "Of course, we weren't relying solely on preserves and overgrown gardens. Having friendly neighbors on nearby farms who were more than willing to share what they had. Good people, you know? It's amazing how much you can bond over a loaf of freshly baked bread with a jar of homemade jam."
His expression turned more serious as he recalled a pivotal moment. "Close to the end of the year, Fratello gave us a call on a private line. He told us the investigation about Valvano was being put on hold. Turns out, there was some major beef between two of the big-shot families in the city, and it was about to escalate into a full-blown gang war. Serious stuff, you know? So, for the time being, it was better for us to stay outside the city."
Angel Dust leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "But we knew, deep down, that if things got really serious, they'd summon us back to New York in a heartbeat. But until then, we made the most of our time in that little countryside hideaway, surviving on scraps, preserves, and the generosity of our neighbors."
"February the following year, a damn gang war erupted right in the heart of New York," Angel explained, his voice filled with a mix of concern and excitement. "They called it the Castellammarese War. Shit hit the fan real quick. And you know what? Luca, being the cautious guy he is, immediately asked if we should pack our bags and head back to the city."
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he continued. "See, when a conflict of that scale breaks out among the Mafia families, everyone's got their own damn agenda. Some choose to stay neutral, just focusing on their own dirty activities. Others, well, they pick a side, hoping to ride the chaos and advance their own interests. And then, you got those who smell the opportunity in that power vacuum. They're the ones itching to expand their influence, take advantage of the chaos. So, a regular day in Pentagram, I guess you could say."
"Still, with the city turning into a battlefield," Angel explained. "I knew Pops would need all the help he could get. It was a golden opportunity, a chance to put an end to this damn Valvano situation once and for all. But here's the catch: to participate, I had to be officially inducted into the family." Angel's tone grew resolute as he continued, his words laced with determination. "But you know what? I was ready to do whatever the hell it took to bring this banishment to an end. The countryside life wasn't all bad, but damn, waiting around on pins and needles for any sort of verdict was driving me insane. So, if it meant officially joining the family, so be it. I was ready to make that sacrifice."
"As all these events unfolded, Luca and I found ourselves constantly wonderin' about our families," Angel sighed. "Fratello made sure to call us whenever he could, keeping us updated if our presence was required. Otherwise, the family was goin' to the mattresses. He assured us that Luca's mother was safe and was getting supplies and things as a goodwill gesture. Molly had embarked on a trip to Italia with Aunt Felicia and her family. Nonna also accompanied them, as she desired to spend her remaining years in Italy. Prior to the outbreak of the gang war, Fratello had entered into a marriage, although it wasn't a grand affair due to the prevailing circumstances of the Great Depression. I wish I could say that the relationship was a good one, but unfortunately, it wasn't. Pops had intended to forge an alliance with another family, and the head of that family had only one child—a daughter. In order to solidify the alliance with the Ragno family, the Don agreed to marry off his daughter to either Fratello or me. Understanding the need for a smooth alliance, Fratello willingly accepted the marriage proposal. Even if I had been present, Pops would have still chosen Fratello to seal the alliance, for he saw him as the ideal candidate to ensure its success. It's a wonder Fratello even managed to get two sons out of that, considering how miserable the two of them were even after Luca and I were able to return to the city."
"How did you find out that Luca had feelings for you?" Charlie inquired curiously.
"Oh, that..." Angel replied, his voice tinged with sadness. "It happened towards the end of 1929, right as the winter season was starting."
*December 21st 1929*
In the cozy living room within the farmhouse at Celani Del Vento, a crackling fireplace cast flickering shadows across the walls, enveloping the space in a warm and intimate glow. The radio, perched on a wooden table nearby, emitted a soft and distant Christmas themed melody, its tinny notes adding a warm touch to the room.
Anthony, usually filled with joy at the first sight of winter snow, was preoccupied. He sat on the couch, lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the mesmerizing dance of flames. The allure of the crackling fire seemed to momentarily ease the weight on his mind.
From the kitchen, the delightful scent of freshly cooked potatoes filled the air, emanating from the fruits of a recent trip to the town's small food market. The neighboring farm had contributed to their evening feast, gifting slices of a savory, smoked ham and a plump chicken. Grateful for the generous gesture, Luca had reciprocated with jars of tomatoes in olive oil and cranberry preserves.
The ham slices were treated as precious rations, to be enjoyed in moderation. Meanwhile, a pot brimming with assorted beans and lentils soaked in water, preparing for their transformation into a comforting Minestrone soup.
These two men, in residence at the winery, ingeniously made use of the resources available, striving not to be mere squatters. The winery still held many wine casks from the days before prohibition, carefully aged by Papa Celani. Though originally intended for balsamic vinegar, the aging process had started with wine, a relic of a time when it was legal. The changing laws had forced a shift in their production, a transition to legal goods, marking the end of one era and the dawn of another.
In the face of adversity, the threat of a substantial fine and the imprisonment of Papa Celani loomed heavily over the Celani family. The winery, a cherished legacy, had become a source of legal troubles and uncertainty, questioning the true motives behind the allegations.
Papa Celani, a wise and forward-thinking man, had foreseen the possibility of such challenges. He had planted olive trees, a contingency plan to safeguard the family's livelihood should the winery face adversity. Now, these olive trees bore their first fruits of the season, a timely glimmer of hope in a dim situation.
With determination, Luca and Anthony embarked on the arduous task of harvesting the olives. The old wine press, once a symbol of the winery's legacy, was repurposed to extract olive oil from the freshly harvested fruit. It was a laborious and demanding process, but they knew it was a tangible way to demonstrate their resilience and resourcefulness to Pops Celani.
The olive oil they produced would become their new venture, a means to sustain the family and showcase their ability to adapt and thrive in the face of adversity. It was a small triumph, but in those uncertain times, every glimmer of hope and each drop of olive oil symbolized their determination to prevail and preserve their family's legacy.
Anthony was suddenly startled by the sensation of a warm blanket being gently draped over his shoulders. He looked up, surprise flickering across his face, and his eyes met Luca's, who was standing beside him with evident concern etched on his face.
"You feeling alright?" Luca asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "You're not coming down with anything, I hope."
"No," Anthony responded somewhat defensively. "I'm alright. How... how's dinner coming along?"
Luca respected Anthony's defensiveness, knowing when to tread carefully. He straightened up, shifting the conversation to a more neutral territory. "Dinner should be ready soon. I'm also making my mothers Ministrone soup. It always warms the soul." Crouching down, genuine concern etched across Luca's features as he asked, "Have you been sleeping alright?" He lightly touched Anthony's forehead, checking for any signs of fever, and then tenderly brushed through the other boy's golden brown hair. "You've had any nightmares recently?"
"No," Anthony said, his tone tinged with evasion. "I'm simply thinkin' about the fact that Fratello is now married."
"Yeah," Luca agreed, settling himself on the couch beside Anthony. He adjusted the blanket so it enveloped both of them. "Don Ragno and Don DeNatale must have been incredibly desperate to maintain their families' power if they resorted to such a rushed marriage."
"Enzo usually goes along with what Pops wants," Anthony remarked, breaking the silence that had settled between them. The warm crackle of the fire and the soft holiday music the only ambience surrounding the two men. "So if he agreed to marry her, I don't think he felt he had much room for rejection. There should have been some opportunity for a courtship or some sort of exploration to see if the couple could truly work together. Love should have its chance, even in these matters. At least," Anthony said, a touch of optimism in his voice, "I can be assured that when Molly is married to you, she will have a husband who will treat her well."
"What gives you the notion that I'll wed your sister?" Luca inquired, his curiosity piqued.
"It's one of Pops' expectations," Anthony replied, the fire light in the room causing his face to appear like it was glowing. "Molly's at the age where finding a suitable match is on the table. There are worse suitors out there, you know."
"Your sister is an extraordinary woman," Luca said sincerely, the echoes of holiday music in the air. "I comprehend the weight she carries as a Princess of the Mafia. However, I must admit that I don't hold any romantic inclinations towards her beyond the love I have for a sibling. My Pa, in days gone by, recounted the profound moment when he first met my mother. It was akin to a thunderbolt, an intense and indescribable feeling that left him certain she was the one his heart yearned for. In my interactions with Molly, I have never experienced that same thunderbolt, and I know she hasn't either. The electrifying connections I've felt have been with you."
"With me..." Angel said, her voice tinged with both surprise and longing. "But..."
"When I shared my bisexuality with you, it was an act of trust, a revealing of deeply personal facets," Luca spoke earnestly. "I never intended to pressure you into anything uncomfortable, hence why I kept my distance. Yet, I can no longer conceal this within me."
Anthony rose from his seat, the dancing shadows deepened his conflicted expression as he paced the room restlessly. The revelation of being loved and desired filled his heart with a tumultuous blend of joy and trepidation. For once, there was someone who saw him beyond the veils of judgment and control he so often endured. Yet, another part of him knew that pursuing this love would inevitably unfurl pain and heartache.
Within the walls of their current hideaway, they sought solace, disguised as distant cousins to the neighboring farm and orchard owners. The girl who kindly delivered their meals was seen as a friendly neighbor, but her aspirations for more were discernible—a desire to be considered a potential match.
During joint dinners with the neighboring families, parental gazes scrutinized them, evaluating their potential as matches for their own children. Yet, this haven, this temporary escape, was fleeting. The looming inevitability of returning to the bustling streets of New York City hung over them, casting a veil of uncertainty. Amidst the vibrant city's chaos, the odds were stacked against their relationship surviving the unforgiving realities they were bound to encounter.
"Do you grasp what you're saying?" Anthony finally voiced, his tone laced with concern. "Our very existence would be seen as unnatural, labeled as sex offenders, and society would discard us as outcasts. There's no use in suggesting we could keep our relationship discreet, for if Fratello or Pops were to uncover the truth, both our lives would be forfeit. Even if we managed to hide it, the weight of secrecy would bring resentment between us. I understand you wanted your crew members present here to pacify Pops, to demonstrate that there was nothing going on between us, and yet here we are." Anthony's words carried the burden of fear and apprehension, echoing the harsh realities they grappled with due to their forbidden love.
"I know," Luca said, rising to his feet and pulling the other boy into a comforting embrace. "I understand the odds may not favor us, and the road ahead is uncertain. But you're someone worth fighting for, even if we must navigate unconventional paths to stay true to ourselves. Perhaps I can convince your father that this winery would serve his interests, offering you a role in my business. Molly could join us, granting her the freedom to forge her own destiny. Additionally, the crew members I wanted close are adept at discretion. Even if they knew of our relationship, they would safeguard our secret."
Anthony's voice trembled, revealing his vulnerability. "Even so," Anthony said with a touch of sorrow. "It would be wiser for you to choose Molly, even if you only see her as a sister. It would ensure both our safety. Please, Luca... as much as you may feel that I'm the one for you, I cannot be yours."
Luca's voice quivered with determination as he responded, "Then let's escape, Anthony. You and I... Tonight, on the longest night of the year, we'll flee to a distant place far from here. We'll search for a quiet town where the grip of the Mafia is weak. There, we can begin anew, far from the prying eyes and judgments of others."
Anthony's voice quivered with concern as he painted the bleak reality. "That's suicide, Celani. Even if we somehow made it to San Francisco and settled, times are harsh. The economy is crumbling, jobs are scarce, and food is a luxury. And don't entertain the illusion that Pops wouldn't cast your mother aside. He'd pull strings with everyone from Capone to Siegel, seeking to erase us. We'd be on the run for the rest of our lives, dodging the button man dispatched to end us. Even Pops knows we're not likely to become informants. Leaving the family and still breathing—it would take a miracle for him to let that slide. We can't even cross into Canada or any other country because, believe me, I've been keeping up with the news. Things aren't much better there. And you being a Caporegime... I may not have been inducted as a soldier, but I'm not ignorant. I know you had to eliminate people to climb the ranks. You think that won't somehow come back to haunt you. If you truly love me, then please hear me when I say that I don't share those feelings; I can't. If you and I had met in a different time...maybe there'd be hope. But right now...you and me...all we are is a dream."