Chapter Text
Abbacchio got rid of his Tinder account and immediately deleted the app from his phone with a sharp swipe of his thumb.
It was a waste of time trying to find a normal person to date on those kinds of apps.
He’d tried other dating apps too, but the result was always the same: people only interested in casual hookups with zero commitment.
Abbacchio huffed in annoyance. He should’ve ignored Fugo’s suggestion about «finding love.» His star pupil at the police academy had a brilliant intellect, a strategic mind, and impeccable discipline, but all of that seemed useless when it came to matters of the heart.
He leaned back in his office chair for a moment. Even though he lived comfortably, he’d been single for a long time and was about to turn thirty. Maybe it was time for a new chapter in his life. He wanted love to be the next thing knocking at his door.
His only mistake had been opening up to Fugo. Admitting, in a moment of weakness, that maybe he wanted to try something different. And Fugo, with his usual confidence, had told him to make a Tinder profile.
The vibration in his pocket pulled him from his thoughts. He pulled out his phone automatically and checked the screen. To his surprise, it was a message from Fugo.
«Mista says he has the solution to your single life. Meet us at the usual place during lunch.»
Abbacchio frowned, already feeling his patience wear thin before the meeting had even started.
“Great. Now Mista’s sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong,” he muttered under his breath.
Still, part of him was curious. For now, though, he had to continue training the new recruits.
When break time finally came, he headed to the cafeteria with determined steps. The murmur of conversations and the clinking of silverware filled the bright, open space. He scanned the room until he spotted Fugo and Mista sitting on a bench in the back.
Fugo was focused on his food. Mista, on the other hand, was gesturing animatedly as usual.
Without wasting time, Abbacchio walked over and sat across from them.
“Hey, Officer Abbacchio! Good to see you!” Mista said cheerfully.
Abbacchio wasn’t in the mood for enthusiasm.
“Yeah, whatever. Are you going to tell me what you’re plotting with this new ‘solution’?”
“How direct,” Fugo muttered without looking up from his plate, earning an irritated glance.
“Oh, don’t tease him, Pannacotta. The officer’s here for what he wants, and I’m gonna give it to him,” Mista chimed in dramatically.
That smug grin only made Abbacchio more impatient. He drummed his fingers on the table.
“Then spit it out. Enough with the stupid suspense.”
Mista pushed his empty plate aside and mirrored Abbacchio’s posture, leaning theatrically over the table.
“Blind's date,” he said, as if revealing a groundbreaking discovery. “Trust me, most people don’t judge or discriminate. And honestly? I think it’s perfect for you. No offense, but you’re kind of intense when you’re not in cop mode.”
Abbacchio heard Fugo try to suppress a laugh, which only tightened his jaw further.
“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve heard all week.”
“Hey! You should be thanking me for trying to help,” Mista shot back, pretending to be offended.
Abbacchio knew he was faking it. Classic manipulation tactic.
“Thanks, but I don’t think blind dates are my thing. You never know what kind of person you’ll end up with.”
“Oh, come on, Officer! You’ve got great instincts. And I promise, the person I have in mind is far from dangerous. The weirdest thing about him is that he claims he can detect lies by taste, but that’s just because his other senses are more developed.” Mista nudged Fugo. “Back me up.”
Abbacchio looked from one to the other like he was conducting an interrogation.
“You both know him?”
“Sort of,” Fugo said, scratching the back of his neck. “He’s friends with the guy I’ve been seeing.”
“And the last time we saw him,” Mista cut in excitedly, “he said his last date was a total disaster. So I thought of you and your desperate need for romantic sex, and told him I knew a great guy he could go out with…”
Abbacchio closed his eyes briefly, resisting the urge to walk away.
“So you just want me to go on a blind date because you promised someone else?”
“Blind's date,” Mista corrected.
“Whatever.”
“Are you in or not?” Fugo asked.
Abbacchio was quiet for a few seconds. Dating apps had been a waste of time. A blind date arranged by people who actually knew him better than any algorithm might not be the worst idea.
“Fine. But if it’s a crappy date, I’m making both of you run laps on the 200-meter track for a week.”
“Deal” Mista and Fugo said in unison, grinning.
Abbacchio considered himself someone with a good sense of style. But at that moment, as he stared at his entire closet emptied out onto the bed, he was starting to reconsider.
Dark clothes formed a monochrome mess across the sheets. On any other day, he wouldn’t hesitate to grab a band-logo T-shirt, pair it with black vinyl pants, and throw on a leather jacket. Simple. Basic. Reliable.
But the problem was that this wasn’t just any day. It was the blind date.
Abbacchio sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. That style —so unmistakably his— didn’t feel right for a first impression with someone who didn’t know him. He didn’t want to seem intimidating. He wanted to look approachable. Maybe even… kind.
Unfortunately, his entire wardrobe consisted of similar pieces in the same shades. For the first time, he regretted not being a fan of lighter colors.
He leaned over the bed and began rummaging through the pile with determination. He wasn’t going to give up. He wanted to make a good impression, even if Mista and Fugo had assured him that the guy named Bruno wasn’t the prejudiced type. Still, first impressions mattered. They always did.
After nearly half an hour of digging through clothes, he found a slightly wrinkled white short-sleeved T-shirt, like it had been forgotten for years. He held it up, evaluating it. Then he found a pair of loose khaki pants he rarely wore. Not his usual combo, but at least it broke the monotony.
He changed quickly and studied himself in the full-length mirror. His reflection made him purse his lips. He looked… too simple.
Wanting to show a bit of his personal style without ruining the outfit, he grabbed a dark purple short-sleeved button-up and layered it over the white shirt, leaving it open.
The contrast worked better. At least he still felt like himself.
He added chain necklaces and bracelets as accessories; the metallic shine gave it a nice edge. He slipped earrings into his ears, then looked at himself again and gave a small approving nod.
He styled his hair with patience. Sprayed perfume almost all over his body —maybe more than necessary— and touched up his black lipstick. The final image felt convincing.
He checked the time on his phone. Fifteen minutes before he was supposed to pick the guy up. Out of habit, Abbacchio liked knowing where his dates were from. A little prejudiced? Sure. He didn’t care. It helped him decide whether he was meeting someone suitable. A little caution never hurt anyone.
He left the apartment, softly humming Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen, letting the melody ease the tension forming in his stomach.
The drive to the address Bruno had sent him was short. They hadn’t texted much, just enough to greet each other, introduce themselves, set the date, time, and place, and exchange the address. Nothing more.
Fifteen minutes later, he parked in front of Bruno’s house. He studied the simple facade: light-colored walls, a modest door, several plants decorating the window frames. The place felt peaceful. No red flags.
He grabbed his phone and sent a message.
«Hi, Bruno. I’m here parked in front of your house.»
He didn’t wait for a reply. He left the phone in the cup holder and stepped out of the car. Adjusting his shirt, he walked slowly up the path toward the entrance.
Just then, the door opened.
Abbacchio smiled when he saw Bruno step out. But his expression shifted into confusion when he noticed the cane in Bruno’s hands, carefully folding it.
“Um, hey… what’s that for?” Abbacchio asked curiously.
Bruno startled slightly at the sudden voice, as if he hadn’t expected him to be so close.
“What do you mean?” he replied, still folding the cane.
“The cane,” Abbacchio said, pointing obviously.
Bruno let out a soft huff that sounded like a small laugh.
“Just in case I need to use it.”
Abbacchio frowned.
“In case you need to use it for what?”
A brief silence formed between them. Leaves rustled in the breeze, and a distant bird sang.
Then Bruno answered naturally, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Leone, I’m blind.”
Abbacchio stared at him more carefully. Bruno was well dressed, his outfit was nicely coordinated. Then Abbacchio focused on his face and noticed the dark sunglasses he’d initially assumed were for the sun.
“What?” was the first thing out of his mouth.
“Wait… you didn’t know?” Bruno asked, genuinely surprised.
There was nothing accusatory in his tone. Just innocent confusion. Heat crept up Abbacchio’s ears.
“No,” he replied, letting out a nervous, disbelieving laugh he couldn’t quite hide.
Internally, he cursed himself. He felt like the first impression he was giving was that of an ignorant idiot, and that was the worst possible thing, considering how attractive Bruno was. His relaxed posture. The softness in his expression. Everything about him was appealing.
Mista and Fugo had absolutely nailed his type. And now, in the first few minutes, he seemed to be ruining it.
“I thought Mista and Fugo told you,” Bruno said, laughing lightly to ease the awkwardness.
Abbacchio frowned slightly, mentally replaying that cafeteria conversation. He was sure they hadn’t mentioned anything.
Then the memory clicked.
«“So you just want me to go on a blind date because you promised someone else?”» he’d asked Mista.
«“Blind's date.”»
The meaning shifted completely in his mind. Mista hadn’t been correcting his phrasing. It hadn’t just been a blind date. It was a date with someone who was blind.
Everything fell into place all at once.
Abbacchio pressed his lips together. He wasn’t about to admit he’d misunderstood because he hadn’t bothered asking more about Bruno.
“No. They didn’t tell me.”
“Are you sure?” Bruno asked gently.
“Yeah. I’m sure. I’d remember if they’d told me you were blind,” Abbacchio replied, swallowing at the end.
He noticed the slight tension in Bruno’s posture.
“Oh. Well… we don’t have to go through with this. I can go back inside, and we can pretend there was never a plan for a date.”
Bruno took a small step back toward the door. It was enough for Abbacchio to react immediately, stepping forward.
“No, no! I’m not backing out. I just didn’t know. Why would you think I wouldn’t want to go out with you?” he asked, genuinely confused.
Bruno cleared his throat, visibly shy.
“Most people don’t want to date a blind guy.”
The honesty in that sentence weighed heavier than Abbacchio expected.
“I’m not most people… Can I ask you something?”
Bruno nodded.
“Are you able to taste food and drinks?”
Bruno bit his lower lip, trying to suppress a smile, and nodded again.
“Okay, then why wouldn’t I want to go out with you?” Abbacchio said with a small, more confident laugh.
The logic was simple —almost ridiculous— but it worked. Bruno laughed warmly and cautiously raised a hand toward Abbacchio’s face.
“Are you a cute guy?” he asked, without malice.
His fingers brushed Abbacchio’s cheek. The touch was gentle, exploratory. Abbacchio felt the softness of his fingertips, the way they paused as if memorizing the shape of his face.
“Oh, no. I’m very ugly,” he joked, though he didn’t pull away.
He let Bruno’s hand slide up into his hair, feeling his fingers move through a few strands with curious care.
“You know? I think the worst part is that I tried way too hard with my outfit.”
Bruno laughed brightly and lowered his hand to Abbacchio’s shoulder, feeling the fabric.
“I’m sorry. But I don’t doubt you’re very well dressed.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your honesty. Okay, let’s do this, I’ll raise one hand, and if you guess which one, you get to pick the last place we go before the date ends.”
Abbacchio raised his right hand, holding back a smile.
“Right hand,” Bruno said confidently.
Then, trying to stretch the joke, Abbacchio switched and raised his left hand.
“Nope. Wrong.”
“Hey! You just changed it,” Bruno protested, laughing.
“No, I didn’t,” Abbacchio said between laughs.
“I heard you move.”
“I didn't.”
“I heard your bracelets.”
The metallic clink had betrayed him.
“Did you see me do it?” Abbacchio teased.
Bruno shook his head softly. “I heard it. I have super hearing.”
“Alright, alright. It was a joke. So… shall we go on our date?” Abbacchio asked, this time without teasing—more sincere.
Bruno stepped closer naturally and hooked his arm through Abbacchio’s. The contact was firm and confident.
“Of course. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
They began walking down the path toward the street, their steps oddly in sync.
“So… wanna drive?” Abbacchio joked casually.
Bruno pinched his arm lightly, smiling.