Leave Me Alone, Big Brothers! [BL]-Chapter 127: I’m Not Ready

Alexander sat Nathan down on a chair, his eyes scanning the boy’s face with clinical intensity. "How is your stomach?"

It was his only concern, as he was afraid Nathan would have problems with his stomach again.

"I’m fine, Alex, really," Nathan said. He had just skipped dinner, so it should be fine. But Alexander didn’t agree with him. He made sure Nathan ate everything in front of him.

Lucas and Nael followed them before Alexander sent them back to their rooms.

Alexander sat calmly in front of Nathan as the boy ate heartily.

"What did he do to you? Did he hit you?" Alexander asked.

Nathan nodded. "He hit my butt," he replied sullenly, his mouth full of food.

"What did you do to him?"

Nathan chewed, reluctant to answer. He just stared at Alexander before looking at his food and chewing again.

"He killed Huan. I just told him that he is evil," Nathan replied softly.

Alexander was silent. He didn’t ask any more questions. It seemed that every time that name was mentioned, he was unable to speak.

He was very weak at the moment.

"After you finish eating, go back to your room. You have school tomorrow," said Alexander.

Nathan nodded. "Thanks."

Nathan looked at Alexander again. The man’s face looked different now, so pale and without light. "Are you okay?"

Alexander sighed. "I’m still alive."

The worst time for him was at night. Every time he tried to sleep, Huan’s shadow always appeared before him. Several times, he had to stay awake, trying to accept the man’s departure. But it was too difficult.

He was still waiting for his final farewell words. Until he got them, he wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully without thinking about the man.

Nathan looked at Alexander, who was currently looking down, as if lost in his own thoughts.

Roger walked into the dining room, approached Nathan, and rubbed the boy’s head. "Hey, are you okay?"

Nathan pushed the man’s hand away from his head. "I’m okay."

Roger sighed. "Sorry, boy. I can’t help you."

"Never mind. I’m used to it. It’s nothing," said Nathan. It was just a dark room; he didn’t mind it. He was just upset that he couldn’t fight Antonio. Whatever he said would be useless, he would only get punished. He felt it was unfair.

Roger made sure Nathan returned to his room before he stopped Alexander from staying there.

"I won’t say anything," said Alexander, knowing Roger would try to persuade him to return to work.

Roger sighed. "I’ll try to start taking care of business, but please, I need you."

"I don’t care anymore. If you don’t like working with that old man, just don’t do it. You’re mature enough to choose your own future."

"I know, but I can’t live right now without Salazar’s money. If he decides to freeze my account, I will have nothing. I’m not like you."

"That’s your problem. I always say to sustain yourself. Make your own money. If you have a normal lifestyle, your money and all your possessions are enough to live on. Why are you chasing false pleasures and choosing to live in a place you don’t want to be?"

Roger sighed. "It’s hard. Anyway, he won’t release me that easily. I’ll have to work with him! Please, Alex...."

"I won’t back down." Alexander was serious, staring intently at Roger. "This year, I’ll skip your party. You know I always support you; I just can’t stand seeing a lot of people right now."

Roger still wanted to persuade the man, but seeing Alexander looking tired and sad, he could only sigh. "I can’t say anything."

"I’ve prepared a gift for you," said Alexander, trying to make up for his absence later.

"I don’t care about the gift. I hope you will feel better soon. I know—"

"Don’t say his name," Alexander cut in quickly.

Roger fell silent, then nodded. "Well... yes. Sorry." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

***

The beautiful moonlight of Tuscany struggled to pierce through the large windows of the villa, matched by the heavy, bruised purples and greys Dante was currently layering onto his canvas. The studio smelled of linseed oil and old wood.

Dante stood before the easel, his brush moving with a rhythmic, almost desperate grace. On the canvas, a vibrant garden was being smothered by a vast, rolling, cloudy sky, a beauty threatened by an impending storm.

Natasha stepped inside, her silk robe rustling softly against the marble floor. She leaned her chin on his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his waist.

"It’s very beautiful," she whispered, her voice like velvet.

Dante didn’t stop his stroke, his eyes fixed on the blending of the clouds. "I was seeing it in my dream," he murmured. "A garden that wanted to bloom, but the sky wouldn’t let it."

"You have beautiful words today, too. Still in the mood to paint?" Natasha teased. Her long ash-grey hair cascaded over Dante’s shoulder.

Dante smiled, finally set the brush down, and turned in her arms. The air between them was thick with warmth. He grabbed his wife’s neck, pulled her in, and kissed her lips passionately.

The sound of smacking filled the room, interspersed with spoiled giggles.

Natasha pulled back just an inch and smiled. Her gaze fell on the corner wall, where a painting of a small house with a swamp was displayed. The painting was a copy from Laura, Dante’s classmate in art class and her best friend.

Whenever he felt troubled, the painting brought him peace.

"I’ve prepared everything. You need to sleep. We need to go tomorrow."

Dante’s body went rigid. His hands, stained with cerulean and violet paint, dropped to his sides. He looked at his wife with a hollow, haunted stare. He let out a long sigh.

"Can you extend it? Just another month here. Just a few more weeks."

Natasha’s heart skipped a beat. She forced a bright, reassuring smile, masking the sharp pang of guilt that twisted in her chest. "We’ve already set the stage, dear. If I back off now, everything we’ve done will be useless. We have to come back now. For our sons."

Dante reached out, his fingers clenching onto Natasha’s hands, smearing a bit of wet paint onto her skin. He didn’t seem to notice. He kissed it long.

"After all you have done for this family... that old man still makes our life so hard. Why must we go back to that place? I want to be selfish just one time. I just want to keep you by my side."

Natasha sighed. "Nobody can do this after me. I’m the last one alive in my family. We have to break the curse. Please, Dante..."

"I’m not ready..." Dante looked down. "If only my family were just a normal family, I would be grateful. I just need you. I don’t need anything else. You know how I hate my father?"

"Please, be kind to him, Dante," Natasha said gently, though her tone held steel. "After all, he is your blood. He wants you to stand on your own two feet. He wants us to be independent."

Dante looked down at their joined hands. The artist in him was drowning in the reality of the Salazar name. "He just cares about money. I don’t want to lose you because of my family. I’m not ready yet," he whispered.

A single tear tracked through the smudge of paint on his cheek, followed by another. He wasn’t a soldier like Antonio, the reason why his father mocked him. And only Natasha could hold him straight, make him live.

Seeing him crumble broke something inside her. Natasha sank to her knees before him, her silk skirt pooling on the floor. She remained silent, letting him feel the weight of her support.

"I don’t know how to live without you, Nat," Dante sobbed, his shoulders shaking. "...if you aren’t by my side every second, I’ll lose myself."

Natasha looked up at him, reaching to hold his trembling hands against her cheeks. She forced another smile, the one that had charmed the most dangerous men in Europe. "You won’t be alone. You have seven angels waiting for you."

Dante let out a harsh, watery laugh. "What angels? Alexander? Roger? They are wolves. They will kill me the second they have the chance. You know how much they hate me."

"It’s only because we’ve never spent enough time with them," Natasha countered, her voice pleading. "They are broken, just like everyone else in your family. But after this, once we fix it, you can stay with them more. You can be the light they need. Please, darling... do this for us. You know how I love you."

Dante took a long, stuttering breath, trying to regain his composure. He looked at the painting of the garden, then back to his wife’s beautiful, determined face.

"Please," he whispered, "find a way so I can replace you. Let me take the risks."

Natasha let out a genuine laugh this time, short and melodic. She stood up and kissed his forehead, pulling him into the safety of her embrace.

"No way, my love," she teased softly. "I can’t live without you, either. And only me can fix this."