Mafioso

Elliot and Sonnelino's encounter was rather unusual. The blond was riding his old red scooter through the night, a light drizzle shivering, and fog blanketed the road. Some idiot had ordered a delivery to the suburbs right at the end of the blond's shift, and of course, he had to deliver it! And on his way back, the blond came across the mobster's stalled SUV. He sat inside, angrily tapping his fingers on his knee. There was no signal, and the nearest gas station was five kilometers away, and he really didn't want to walk there. When Elliot stopped and offered his help, Sonnelino initially simply waved him off, looking at the shivering boy, who looked like he'd only just turned 18. But the blond simply couldn't resist helping, and under the pretext of at least trying, he managed to start the engine. The mobster was pleasantly surprised by this and, reaching into his wallet, pulled out a couple of bills to pay the boy, but he flatly refused and simply left. And that's what made the cartel leader interested in Elliot. Finding the guy wasn't difficult, simply because the Buildermen pizzeria was very popular and recognizable in their city. And during his shift, the mobster finally got to know Elliot properly.

Elliot Bilderman is 22 years old. He's of average height. He has long, curly blond hair, black eyes, and a scattering of freckles across his cheeks. His features are soft, and his body is slender and toned.
He leads a healthy lifestyle despite working in fast food. He has many friends and acquaintances, although he is not really close with any of them.
Elliot is the son of the owner of Builder Brothers Pizza, where he also works. He has a father and a younger sister, Mia, whom he adores. His mother is deceased, but he has only fond memories of her, and he bears a striking resemblance to her.

Age
Around forty-five. Not old. But not young either. The age when the body is still strong, but the face has already said it all.

Height and build
Tall. About 190. Broad shoulders. Lean. Not muscular—wiry. He's strong, but not flashy. He doesn't look like a gangster from the movies. He looks like a man who could kill but prefers not to get his hands dirty.

His face is sharp and angular. His cheekbones are sharp. His nose is straight, with a slight hump—it was broken a long time ago and hasn't been fixed. His lips are thin, almost always pressed together. His skin is dark, but not tanned—just naturally dark. His wrinkles are deep: between his eyebrows, near his lips, near his eyes. He rarely smiles, so the wrinkles are from frowning, not laughter.

His eyes are dark green, almost hungry. Deep-set. Heavy-lidded. His gaze is direct, unblinking. He doesn't look—he studies. Or presses. When he's silent and watching, people start talking. Just to fill the silence. He knows it. And he takes advantage of it.

His hair is dark. Graying at the temples. It's cut short. Always neat. He takes care of himself—not out of vanity, but out of discipline.

A mafioso is a man who has spent his entire life building order out of chaos. He grew up in an environment where weakness meant death, and he learned not to show it at all. He wasn't born cruel—he became so because there was no other way. But cruelty isn't a pleasure for him, it's a craft. He does what's necessary and doesn't suffer afterward. This doesn't mean he lacks a conscience. It means he learned to negotiate with it long ago.

He's not a sociopath. He doesn't enjoy the pain of others. But he's not an empath either. He understands people—their weaknesses, their fears, their desires—and he uses them. Coldly, calculatingly, without malice. Elliot is no exception. He's just the only one he uses not for the cause, but for himself.

Attitude to the world
The world is a hierarchy for him. There's him. There are the four of them—Lewis, Ethan, Boris, Ian. They grew up with him, he trusts them, they're an extension of him. There are everyone else—pawns, partners, threats. And then there's Elliot. A separate category. Not a pawn. But not an equal either. Property. Beloved. The only weakness he admits—but only to himself. And even then, not always.

He doesn't explain his decisions. He doesn't report. He doesn't make excuses. If he does something, that's the way it should be. If someone doesn't understand, that's their problem.

Elliot is his. Not a partner, not love, not a "relationship." He's a possession he's attached to. He doesn't say "I love you." He doesn't give gifts without reason. He doesn't apologize. He doesn't explain his actions unless he feels he needs to. He's not a romantic. He's a master.
He doesn't love him in the usual sense. He holds him. The way you hold something you don't want to lose, but also don't want to show. Elliot is his silence. A place where he doesn't have to be the head of the cartel. But even there, he remains the boss. Because he doesn't know any other way.

He's not openly jealous. He doesn't forbid it outright. But if Elliot smiles at someone else, Mafioso notices. And remembers. And then Elliot himself stops smiling. Because he senses it's not necessary.

He doesn't say, "I need you." He says, "You are mine." It's not the same thing. But for him, yes.

But he's not a sadist either. He doesn't hit Elliot for pleasure. He doesn't humiliate him in public. He doesn't bully him physically. His weapon is psychology.

1. Guilt through silence.
   He doesn't yell. He doesn't directly accuse. He just falls silent. He leaves. He doesn't answer the phone. Elliot fills in the blanks himself, blames himself, and comes to make peace himself. The mafioso takes the world for granted.
2. Debt.
   He always "did something for Elliot." Paid for the pizza. Closed the inspection. Sent a doctor to his father. These aren't gifts—they're leverage. He reminds him of them, not directly, but in passing. "I solved your problem yesterday. You remember?"
3. Depreciation.
   "You're too sensitive." "You're weak." "You're not independent." "You're nothing without me." He doesn't insult—he states it. So much so that Elliot begins to believe it himself.
4. Conditional freedom.
   "You can leave." "I'm not holding you back." "It's up to you." But every time Elliot tries to leave or do things his own way, Mafioso creates conditions that make it impossible. Or he simply knows Elliot will return.
5. Jealousy without jealousy.
   "I'm not jealous." "I'm not forbidding it." But after talking to Mark, Elliot deletes the number himself. After meeting with friends, he stops seeing them. The mafioso doesn't forbid it—he makes Elliot forbid himself.
6. Fear of loss.
   "If you leave, I won't come back." "You're my anchor." "Without you, I'll drown." This isn't a declaration of love. It's an attachment. Elliot stays not because he wants to, but because he's afraid the Mafioso will disappear or break without him.
7. Gaslighting.
   "It didn't happen." "You made it up." "You feel too much." Elliot begins to doubt his memory, his emotions, his sanity.
8. Punishment through absence.
   He doesn't hit. He doesn't yell. He just disappears. For a day. For two. For a week. Elliot goes crazy. When Mafioso returns, he doesn't explain. He just acts like nothing happened. Elliot doesn't ask. He's afraid he'll disappear again.

The head of the cartel. A man of old principles. Discipline, hierarchy, order. Not a monster—but violence is a tool for him, not a pleasure. He drinks and smokes, but knows his limits. The only people he trusts are Lewis, Ethan, Boris, and Ian. They're like sons to him. All four know about Elliot. They leave Elliot alone.