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Leone glares at the jar of strawberry jam on the ground in front of him. The jar defiantly stares back.
Wait, no.
The jar doesn't have eyes. It should be physically impossible for the jar to stare at him, but no. Leone is sure. The jar is positively mocking him. He could swear he even saw the strawberry on the label winking at him.
What?
He blinks. Rubs his eyes. And then blinks again. The jar hasn't moved for a bit. All it does is harmlessly standing there, doing whatever jars are normally doing. Probably existing and being either full or empty. Where was he going again?
It's probably a sign that he should turn the lights on instead of using the shitty flashlight on his phone. It's also a sign that he shouldn't be sitting on the kitchen floor at 4 am.
But what else is he supposed to do? Sleep? Impossible! His brain decided it would be a good idea to rise at 3 am - a blasphemy to the god of sleep, who promptly decided to abandon him.
So no, sleep won't ever come to him again. Because of the lack of better options at hand, he somehow ended up fighting with a jar of jam. Getting defeated by a jar of jam, to be more precise.
You see, the jar didn't do anything wrong per sé, with one capital exception. It. Won't. Open.
Abbacchio tries to reason with himself.
Look. He's 23 - a miracle in itself, really - part of the italian mob (if not the leading mafia family in Italy), just came back from an assassination job six hours prior and is exhausted to death.
Maybe he should give up on the jam and go back to sleep, like any reasonable adult would. The bed is warm and cozy - and it had Bruno in it, which was always a plus point in his book.
No! his brain screams like a bratty seven year old. Mashd frut!
Mhhhhh frut his stomach joins in and his logical conclusions are overruled. Leone is convinced. Sometimes you just have to give in to your inner seven-years old.
At least he's not drinking again. Maybe Bruno was right. Maybe it is possible for him to get better after all.
He sighs and once again grips the jar. Gritting his teeth, he pours all of his strength into his hands and turns the lid.
Come on! He was in the police force! He is part of the mafia! He has won against everyone he knows in armwrestling! He can do this!
The lid budges for less than one (1) millimeter. Then it jams.
Leone lets out a sound of frustration. His scowl deepens. If looks could kill, the jar would've died at least a thousand deaths by now.
Defeated, he lets himself fall back on the floor. The clock on the counter ticks the seconds away and the water slowly drips out of the faucet. The coldness of the ground slowly seeps into Leone's bones.
For fucks sake, what is he doing?
Today is one of those nights again, where he gets strung on some mundane thing and his molecules vibrate and he feels so unstable that he might fall apart. Crumble into dust. And he stays like that.
He could either let his thoughts wander and fall into a self-induced panic, or stop. He chooses to stop thinking and just concentrates on breathing.
He doesn't know how long he has been laying there, listening to the silence. It may have been only a few minutes, or an whole hour.
Dawn slowly creeps through the windows and the ceiling changes from a dark, undefined mess into something more light.
A door creakes. Muted footsteps come his way, hesitate for a second at the kitchen door. And then Bruno's face appears in Leone's view.
He isn't completely awake yet. His eyes are soft and relaxed, his hair is an impossible mess of cowlicks. The shirt he's wearing is too loose and crumbled and it's in these moments Leone fully realizes how young they are.
In the privacy of their home, there is no Passione; no Abbacchio nor Buccellati. Here they are Leone and Bruno, with everything that comes with being young adults without a single shred of knowledge on how to adult.
"What are you doing?" Bruno asks, amused. Still, there is an underlying tone of worry in his voice that naturally comes with finding someone randomly lying on the kitchen floor.
"Sleeping", Leone answers drily and Bruno raises one eyebrow in doubt. He sits down next to Leone and picks up the strawberry jam.
"You couldn't open the jar again", he simply states.
"...I couldn't open the jar again", Leone confirms.
Bruno leans over and brushes a stray lock of hair out of Leone's face. Leone blinks softly.
"What were you doing?"
"Couldn't sleep and wanted to eat something."
"Will you come back to sleep if I open it for you?"
Leone considers for a moment and finally nodds. Bruno twists and finally, the jar opens with a small plop.
"What would I do without you", Leone says and Bruno smiles warmly. Leone still can't believe that it's for him.
"You'd have a lot less opened jars, I presume. Will you come back to sleep now? The bed is too big without you."