Work Text:
The door to Vito Corleone’s office opened, and out stepped Michael, a deep purple colour marbling his cheek. You were already in the hallway because you were gathering some of Connie's things as she was staying closer to the hospital where her father was recovering.
She had sent you to retrieve some of her things as you were her best friend and also because she “thought you needed to speak to Michael again.” You used to be closer with Michael. You and Connie had been friends since childhood, and she had often invited you over to her house. Sonny and Fredo were usually out of the way, doing jobs for their father, but Michael would still linger around the house, and you’d often bump into him. He was a nice guy, and you’d sometimes speak to each other when you got the chance before Connie pulled you away from him to do other things, of course.
The last time you had spoken to Michael was before he had left for war. It was Vito’s birthday, the day he enlisted, and while everyone else was celebrating, he stayed quiet. You went over to him to make sure he was okay and he told you about how disappointed his family was because he had joined the army on his own father’s birthday after his father had tried so hard to avoid his conscription. You hugged him and told him you were proud of him either way, and he looked at you with wide eyes and a small smile before he hugged you back.
But that was years ago, of course, you had both seen each other briefly at Connie’s wedding, but you didn’t utter a word to each other. He kept to himself again, hardly speaking to anyone who wasn’t family. However, he did flash you a quick smile when he saw you, which you returned.
And now here he was, standing in front of you.
Your eyes darted to the large bruise on his cheek, and he instinctively put his hand to it. He underestimated how much touching it would hurt, as soon as his fingers made contact with it, he winced and put his hand right down.
You stepped closer to get a better look at him. His jaw was wired shut. It must’ve hurt like hell to even open his mouth.
“What happened?”
“Broken jaw.” He answered back, trying to speak without moving his mouth a lot.
“Have you iced it?”
He shook his head. “Haven’t had time to.”
He was right. As soon as he woke up in that same hospital his father was in, Tom had been there to take him back home. Once he was home, he had to speak to Sonny about what to do about Sollozzo and McClusky. They had only finished speaking a few minutes ago, and all that talking hadn’t done anything good for the dull ache that was present in his jaw.
“Oh Michael, the first thing you should’ve done when you walked into this house was put some ice on it. It would’ve at least helped with the swelling, if not the pain.”
Michael’s eyes softened slightly, he had always known you cared about him, after all, every time he’d fought with his brothers in his youth while you were over, you’d always end up looking after him. He just didn’t expect you to still care this deeply.
“Here, do me a favour and take this to the living room.” You handed him the bag of his sister’s stuff. “I’ll get you some ice for that jaw and a couple of painkillers since you probably haven't taken any of them either. Okay?”
He gave you a small nod before walking into the room you had sent him to.
When you came back into the living room, holding a glass of water, a packet or paracetamol, and a handful of ice wrapped in a wash cloth, Michael didn’t even seem to acknowledge your presence. He was sitting on the sofa, just looking forward. You sat beside him and handed him the tablets and water. He took them.
“How can you still care about me after all this time?” He asked after swallowing two of the small white pills.
You paused before answering. “I don’t know. I don't think I ever really stopped caring about you.”
He finally turned to look at you, his eyes wide, but the rest of his expression was still unreadable. You held the cold, damp washcloth up to the bruised area of his cheek while trying your best not to make eye contact.
As the cloth made contact with his swollen cheek, his hand made contact with yours. He placed his hand on top of yours as you held the ice to his face. You turned to look at him. He hadn't taken his eyes off you.
“Thank you.” He whispered gently.
“For what?”
“For still caring about me.”
He smiled.
He didn't know how much it'd hurt.
As soon as his lips even curled upwards, a groan of pain escaped them. You let out a soft giggle.
“You know, Michael, I always thought you were the smartest in the family.”
He rolled his eyes in a playful manner.
“And I always thought you were the nicest one out of all of Connie's friends.”
“Do you think any of Connie's other friends would be nice enough to look after her injured older brother when that isn't even what she came over to do?”
“Hmm, I guess not.”
A comfortable silence now hung between both of you. The puffiness in Michael's jaw was beginning to reduce, and he was starting to relax more.
“You know, you were always my favourite out of Connie's brothers. I was always kind of scared to talk to Tom, Sonny was too loud, and he always looked angry, and Fredo just wasn't the best to have a conversation with. You were nicer, easier to approach, and much easier to talk to. I always hated when Connie would pull me away from you when we were talking, I always wanted to hear what you were going to say next. You were opinionated, smart, you had your own dreams that didn’t involve your family's business. It was nice to talk to someone who didn't justify everything your father does.”
“How come you never even uttered a word to me at the wedding then?”
“I was wondering why you didn’t say anything to me. Trust me, I would've, but you kind of just looked like you wanted to be left alone.”
There may not have been a smile on his face, but Michael Corleone was starting to look somewhat happier.
“I did want to be left alone. By everyone else, though. Not by you. ”
You quickly looked away from him, not knowing what to say next. You didn’t want to ruin the moment by saying something stupid, so you opted for silence. Michael noticed that you didn't intend to reply to him, but he still wanted to keep the conversation going.
“Going back to what you said earlier, about me being your favourite out of all my brothers, you're my favourite friend of Connie's.”
You looked at him again, eyes wide with surprise and a glimmer of happiness.
“Really?”
He let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I do think you're the nicest one, especially after today. You've always been there for Connie as well. I remember the first letter I got from you while I was overseas, the one telling me I better come back alive, the one where you told me that no matter what my family thought, you would always be proud of me, the one where you told me you loved me.”
You shifted slightly at that last part. You knew you'd said it, and you didn't regret saying it. He just hadn't acknowledged it until now.
He continued. “I remember rereading that letter nearly every other day. You only sent two more after that, talking about your life and how my family was. You never wrote that you loved me after that first one.”
“I still do love you, though. I've loved you for nearly ten years now.” You mumbled so softly that if Michael wasn't right next to you, he probably would've missed it. “I never wrote it again because you never wrote me back. I was afraid. Afraid that I'd scared you off, afraid that you didn't feel the same, afraid that I'd have to come to terms with my love being completely one-sided.”
The ice in the cloth you were holding had melted at this point. Cold water dripped down your arm and dampened your sleeve. You didn’t care, though. Just being here with Michael was enough.
It was Michael's turn to look at you with wide eyes now.
“I never wrote you back because I didn't want you to get attached. I had come to terms with the fact that I could die, but I hated thinking about you finding out I'd died. It scared me. I didn't want to think about the look on your face, especially after you had told me how proud you were and how you couldn’t wait to see me again. I longed to reply to your letter, even if the only thing I wrote was just an ‘I love you too’, but I wanted to distance myself. I didn't want to make it harder for you if I had died out there. I still love you, but I don't think I regret not writing. Anything could've happened to me.”
Michael's honesty took you by surprise. You put the damp washcloth down and pulled Michael into a hug.
“I've waited so long to hold you in my arms.” He whispered into your ear as he returned the embrace.
“Probably not as long as I've waited to hear you tell me that you love me.” You joked, earning a small laugh from Michael. “I love you.”
“I love you too. And I am sorry for not writing.”
“I forgive you.”
You and Michael stayed holding each other for a few more minutes before being interrupted by the door swinging open. You quickly pulled away from each other and looked towards the doorway.
Sonny leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. Behind him stood Tom, no emotion even crossing his expression, except for maybe looking slightly uncomfortable.
“Sorry if we're interrupting something, Mike, but Sollozzo rang back. We've confirmed a meeting place.” A hint of amusement lacing his tone.
Michael's cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “Alright Sonny.” He turned back to you. “I'm really sorry, I have to deal with this.”
“It's okay, Michael, I get it. Family's important.”
He got up, but before stepping away, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I'm sorry, but I might have to disappear for a while. It could be over a year before you see me again. Please wait again, I promise. Once I'm back, I'll be back for good. I love you, don't forget that.”
You stood up, and Michael wrapped his arms around you again. Tears had begun to fall from your eyes, and you had started to tremble.
“I promise I'll come back. I won't be able to write, but I'll tell you everything once I'm home. I mean that.”
He let go and walked away, leaving you standing by yourself.
“I'll wait as long as I have to. I love you.”
He continued walking, but turned his head and smiled, he didn't care about the pain this time, making sure that he had a smile on his face for you to remember was all that mattered to him.