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“Shut up!” She slapped him again. “Shut! The! Fuck! Up! You can’t say shit like that now! I don’t want to talk about it! Don’t you start saying shit like that!”
He grabbed her wrist before she could slap him some more and looked down at her. Her lips were pouting, her eyes teary, and her cheeks red, meaning she was genuinely upset. Dante smiled, but she fought his grip and emptied her glass in one go before trying to push him away from her.
“Stop it,” she mumbled angrily. “I hate it when you do things like that...”
“Proposing?”
“Cornering me,” she groaned. “...I just want to eat my risotto. Please.”
Seeing how sullen she was, the mafioso sighed and backed away a little, releasing her wrist. However, they both knew it was too late. The words had been dropped, and like a bomb, they couldn’t be ignored or forgotten so easily. Eden poured herself another drink, making Dante raise an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment. He knew she was used to drinking, but he was more worried about her trying to literally drown the conversation. He began eating his risotto, but the corny smile wouldn’t come off his lips, no matter how many pouting glares Eden would send him. For a little while, they both ate in silence, all the sexual tension from earlier gone, and instead, an awkward silence reigned throughout the room.
Suddenly, music started playing, making them both look up. It was the wedding march.
“Fuck you, Loir!” Eden groaned.
He was muted, but he could still listen and clearly hack Dante’s stereo as well. The music then changed to a less ceremonial one, a kind of waltz that Eden could somewhat tolerate better than the previous piece. She sighed and put her fork down. Dante’s risotto was delicious, but now, she didn’t have the heart for it. She hated the heavy atmosphere between them, and how this evening that should have been akin to a date had turned somewhat sour.
“...Come here.”
To her surprise, Dante put his plate aside too, and gently took her hands to pull her down from the kitchen counter. While Eden was still doubtful, she didn’t feel like refusing him again, especially if he was trying to close the distance between them. She let Dante smoothly guide her, but they stayed in the kitchen, only standing against each other. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and slowly began moving, swaying from left to right. Eden blushed a bit, but a shy smile appeared on her lips, and she put her hands on his shoulders, dancing along with him. Because the volume of the music was just loud enough, and they were so close in a heated kitchen, the tension gradually dissipated. Instead, Eden’s smile widened as she enjoyed this moment. Dante was obviously trying to improve her mood, with Loir as his accomplice... Their dancing wasn’t even as awkward as she would have thought. It was a slow, little dance, just moving in his kitchen, mostly their lower bodies casually swinging left and right while taking small steps. But because he was half-naked and Eden was in her bathrobe with her hair still half-wet, it was strangely cute yet sexy. They danced for a little while, listening to the music and just gently holding each other. Dante wasn’t even trying to initiate anything; Eden barely felt his thumb caressing her lower back, but that was it. He was really trying to soothe her. She let out a long sigh and leaned in, her cheek against his torso. Dante hugged her a bit closer, and she heard him faintly chuckle next to her ear.
“...I’m still a bit mad at you,” she grumbled.
“Don’t be mad. I’m serious.”
“I know... That’s what scares me.”
“You’re always scared.”
Eden wanted to roll her eyes at his comment. She knew he was referring to how she was always so afraid of any form of commitment, but he didn’t actually need to state the obvious... She was taking baby steps already and had gotten so involved in this relationship, she still couldn’t believe herself at times. Eden hated to show her vulnerable side, yet she was almost laid bare with Dante, emotionally. She tried to calm herself down and think of what would be a better, more mature way to approach what she still thought was a very blunt and unthinkable proposal...
“...Why are you asking such a thing now?” she muttered. “It really doesn’t make sense...”
“We both know tomorrow is going to be... the most dangerous thing we’ve ever done, and for us, that’s saying a lot. If... something happens to me, I don’t want you to–”
“Don’t say it like something is really going to happen!”
“I’m only saying if. …Besides, it’s not like I had never thought about it. I want to bind you to me with every form of commitment possible. This seems to be the most appropriate one.”
“Do you even realize how unbearably possessive you are?”
“Yes.”
As always, his shameless and blunt tone... Eden knew there was just no way to win against him. She nestled in his arms, feeling a bit restless, but also soothed by his warm and firm embrace. She had grown used to his possessiveness; worse, she loved it. Dante’s best weapon against the walls around her heart was how he’d never let her go. For most, such obsession would have been scary, but for someone like Eden whose worst fear was to be abandoned again, it was reassuring. They were both a bit broken inside, but their jagged pieces just happened to fit together, was how she saw it.
“...We’re going to be together most of the time, according to the plan.”
“Not all the time,” he said. “Plus, we don’t know what could happen.”
Eden felt like sulking again. She knew he was right, and even if Dante was part of those who’d try to break into the Core with her, they’d be separated while she got inside first, and perhaps farther along too... She hated it. If possible, she would have avoided this war entirely. However, she wasn’t so oblivious as to ignore what depended on their success or failure. Even if she wished for it, they both knew they wouldn’t be able to resume life like before in the Suburbs. If they didn’t do anything, the Core would wipe them out, and if they fought back, things would still never be the same.
“...Are you mad at me?”
“Don’t ask that, sounding like you’re enjoying it.”
“Well, you’re definitely sexier when you’re mad.”
“Just my luck.”
