#//normally sal wouldn't want to talk to anyone about bruno

[troublewithvampires]

@bxtsence said: 💔

(come tell us about an ex, sally - open)

Salvatore hesitates for a moment before he starts to explain. "Yeah, I, uh, I dated this guy named Bruno a while back." It feels strange to say it like that, to actually confirm the relationship's existence, but that's the only really accurate way he can describe it. "We, uh, we never really told anyone about it, but we were together... shit, we were together nearly nine fuckin' years."

Really puts into perspective how much fucking time they both wasted on that sinking ship.

Not wanting to dwell on that particular thought, Salvatore pushes forward. "Bruno was a nice guy," he says. "Nice enough, at least. Met him at the restaurant he worked at while he was in college--this ritzy li'l place called The Herald." He lifts one hand to scratch at his chin, glancing down. "We didn't really... do anything for a while, not for another few years, but we got along fine."

Salvatore looks back up, but still keeps his eyes down. "Bruno was a nice guy," he says again. If he says the words enough, maybe they'll ring true. "He went to school to direct movies, and he told me all about his ideas." A small smile spreads across his face. "He had a lotta good ideas, I think. Been meanin' to see if he ever got to make any of 'em."

After a moment, the smile falls. "But, well, at the end of the day, we had different ideas for what we wanted. I wanted to keep things on the down-low, not make a fuss. The guys would never let me live it down, y'know. He wanted to tell the world about us, to start a family with me." A deliberate pause as he closes his eyes. "But he didn't want me. Bruno wanted a wife, not some confused broad tryin' to be a man, who cared more about work than her boyfriend." The words taste acidic on his tongue, echoing in his memory.

Salvatore leans back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms. His eyes open again. "The night I was turned, Bruno gave me an ultimatum. He was tired of arguin' with me and told me to choose--my work with the Gianetti's, or him." The smile returns, bitter and strained, as he adds, "I made my choice, and he made his. He slapped me, I broke his nose, and the rest is history."

"... Not really sure where he is now."