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Dangerous people, rich people, those that held Naples in the palm of their hands, held power beyond comprehension, surrounded you. You found yourself talking with men you knew had killed more than you could count, gossiping with women you were certain were lying to you, all while you were sipping on wine and lounging in the large ballroom, taking in the environment you were in.
You weren’t certain how you managed to find yourself at the party. You didn’t know anyone there, nor did you understand why you were special enough to get invited. However, what you were certain of, is that whoever the host was, he himself did not appear. None knew what he looked like, or his name. They spoke in hushed voices about the mysterious man, known only as boss. Apparently, he was a new boss, and had not yet revealed himself to his subordinates. You had a feeling it was best not to pry about such a thing, to not get yourself in a situation you could not get yourself out of.
After all, being surrounded by the Naples elite, you figured you should’ve left long before you got invested in the fine wine and treats.
You also had no idea if any of the others attending the party were Stand users.
From across the room, you noticed a man gazing at you with piercing blue eyes. He had long, pale hair that fell at his shoulders and donned a striking, rich, royal blue suit. The first couple of buttons of his dress shirt were undone to reveal his clavicle. You could tell from what he revealed that he was lean and muscled, though not overbearingly so, compared to some of the other men you saw. You lifted a brow at him in interest, and in response he smirked and turned away, continuing to talk to a man you assumed was his friend, who had hair that had bangs, and went down to his jawline. Golden clips kept his hair out of his face. He wore a white suit, black dress shirt and white tie. You saw him glance at you from the corner of his eye, then returning his gaze back to the man who was staring at you.
Finishing the last of your wine, you gave the empty glass to a servant who carried it away to be cleaned and then sent back out, full once more. Feeling bold, once the man who was staring at you had left his friend for a moment, you approached him.
“I couldn’t help but notice you were glancing in my direction not too long ago.” You started. You took in his body now that you were more close. “Did you need something?”
He let out a huff in amusement, crossing his arms and getting a good look at you as well, looking at you up and down. “Do you?” His voice was deep and rich.
You weren’t expecting such a reply, and were taken aback for a moment, before regaining your posture. You decided not to address him turning the question back onto you. “So what brings you to this special occasion tonight?”
The man’s lips twitched at the edges. He moved closer to you, almost towering over you. You could feel your face heat up in a blush. “I came with my friends. It’s a way to let loose after a while, I suppose. You?”
“I was invited, though I’m not sure why. I’ve been meaning to ask, however I’m not sure who to ask.”
“There’s a better question to ask,” he stated. You looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “Such as your name.”
You laughed a little, then gave him your name. “And yours?”
“Leone Abbacchio. Call me Abbacchio.”
You were suddenly well aware of all the wine you had drank. Was it helping, or would it be your downfall? “Well Abbacchio, it’s certainly nice meeting you.”
You extended your hand to shake his. He looked down at it, then grasped it firmly. Your heart skipped a beat the second he touched you. Abbacchio’s hand was large and warm. You stared into his pale blue eyes, still holding onto his hand, unaware that you were still holding it. Boldly, you placed your other hand on top of his. The wine was helping.
Abbacchio suddenly roughly grabbed your wrist, bringing your face close to his, where he whispered in your ear, “I think we both know what we want. Follow me.” He then let go of your hand as if nothing had happened, and turned away, heading towards a staircase.
Your heart pounded in your chest, and you blindly followed him, fueled by lust alone. You didn’t care if others noticed you and Abbacchio’s disappearance, all you cared about was the feeling of his body against yours, roughly showing you the passion he had.
Following Abbacchio up the stairs and into a hallway, he opened a random door to a bedroom, allowing you to enter first before he followed, shutting the door and locking it. In an instance, his lips were on yours, and you were pinned against the wall. You both slowly undressed, unable to keep your hands off the other. Abbacchio marked your neck with hickeys, ensuring you knew who was in charge and who you belonged to.
For what felt like a blissful eternity, you both showed each other the full extent of the primal desire you had during your fateful, erotic encounter. Your nails dug red streaks into his muscled back, your hips sore from how firm his grip on them were, never relenting in his rough pace.
You both eventually finished, breathing heavily, sweat glistening your bodies. Abbacchio collapsed next to you, and you fell asleep. You were unsure who the room belonged to, though you didn’t care at that moment.
When morning arrived the next day, Abbacchio was no longer beside you, nor were his clothes strewn across the floor as they were the night before. You sat up, blearily looking around, remembering what happened.
The large mansion the extravagant party was held at was empty, no longer was it filled to the brim with powerful, dangerous people. You wandered aimlessly after getting dressed, praying that whoever owned the place would help you get back home.
Eventually you met a man named Giorno Giovanna, who you were quickly informed was the host of the party. You were also informed of why you were invited, and asked to join the gang he was the leader of, Passione. He stated that he knew you were a Stand user and that you were a righteous person who he thought would do well in the ranks of Passione.
You asked him to give you time to think about his offer, which he kindly allowed you to have.
That was a while ago, and you had joined the ranks of Passione, not too long after Giorno recruited you. You were still finding your place in organized crime, something you had never guessed you would have gotten yourself into. Abbacchio had not completely left your mind, however. He still appeared in your fantasies when you were left alone during long nights, he still crossed your mind, regardless of your desperate attempts to not think about him.
Was it love, or were you still ensnared in the trap of lust?
As if a cruel joke played by fate, you were moved to a group of a Caporegime by the name of Bruno Bucciarati, the man Abbacchio was talking to at the party that steamy night, and in that group was the man himself; Leone Abbacchio.
You were both more than surprised to see the other in the same group, and avoided the other for quite some time, despite you desperately wanting to talk to him again.
You would be lying if you said that you hadn’t cried a few times. You craved his touch, his love, once more. Abbacchio, however, was a stoic, somber man who did not allow many close to his heart, save for Bucciarati.
One day you had decided to confront him after a pep talk from your teammate Narancia, who’s known him for a long time, and offered excellent advice. Gradually the confrontation grew heated, and you both rushed to a place of privacy and succumbed to the throes of passion once more.
Abbacchio stayed for just a moment more this time, unlike the first time. You both lay in the bed awkwardly. You yourself wanted to hold him, to be held, and were unsure if you should even attempt post-coital cuddling. Nevertheless, you slowly shifted yourself and wrapped yourself around his arm, resting your head on his shoulder. Abbacchio did not move.
You decided to break the deafening silence. “Do you love me? Or is it just lust that brings us together?”
He sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say. The sex is good, I’ll give you that.”
You frowned, and decided not to say anything more about the topic. At least you had some form of intimacy with him.
It was like clockwork. Your relationship with Abbacchio extended only to the times you were both filled with desire and had to sneak off somewhere, ranging from motels to alleyways. The emotional turmoil of loving him, but primarily interacting when you had sex was driving you insane. Nights full of tears were more frequent, and everyone in your team could tell that you were going through something.
Thankfully Bucciarati was helping you through it, at least somewhat. The only man allowed into Abbacchio’s mind would talk to you during the late, seemingly never ending nights of angst. You knew he didn’t like it when you cried, but he was there every time.
You were on the phone with Bucciarati one night.
“He’s a complex man,” Bucciarati had told you. “Abbacchio, by his own admission, is a man who constantly screws things up halfway through and can never see anything to the end. It’s not you.”
You rubbed your face with your free hand. “I know, it’s just. . . I don’t know what to do.”
“Not him.”
You let out a laugh at Bruno’s comment. Because of your frequent nightly calls with him, you quickly began to understand why Abbacchio was so close with him. You did feel bad, seeing as you quickly became close friends with Bruno, and he’s known Abbacchio for quite some time, you prayed he didn’t feel it was necessary to pick sides.
“I appreciate you a lot, Bruno.” You told him.
He hummed on the other end of the call. “You should get some rest. It’s almost one a.m.”
You looked at the clock beside your bed. “I guess you’re right. Goodnight, Bruno. Again, thank you.”
“Goodnight. I’ll see you at Libeccio tomorrow.”
Click.
Placing the phone back onto the bedside table, you prepared for bed. The restless nights weren’t so restless when you talked with Bruno, but the thoughts of Abbacchio still returned minutes after hanging up for the night.
Would you ever be able to get over him?
At the restaurant you and your teammates ate lunch, idly chatting. Giorno and Mista decided to stop by and sit with the group as well, which was a pleasant surprise, as you hardly heard from the two. You sat in between Bruno and Abbacchio, noting the ironic symbolism. The group, or rather, Mista and Narancia, were talking about God knows what, the topic of conversation switched faster than you could keep up with. One minute they were talking about gay frogs and the next they were arguing about the pronunciation of the word ‘epitome.’ Mista was insisting that it was ‘eh-pit-oh-me,’ while Narancia was insisting that it was ‘ep-uh-tome.’
All everyone could do was watch and laugh while eating delicious food. You laughed, covering your food filled mouth with your hand as eventually Fugo chimed in on the argument too. Leaning back in your chair, you noticed and arm was resting on the back of your chair. You looked to see who it belonged to, and saw Abbacchio sipping on his wine, then said something. You weren’t sure what was said, as you continued to stare at him, everything drowning out except Abbacchio.
He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, giving a slight smirk. His arm moved to wrap around your waist, causing you to shift closer to him ever so slightly. You were uncertain if you should even be indulging in this, as you were consistently and actively hurting over the conflicting feelings you had over Abbacchio.
“Oi! You two better be on your best behavior, I don’t want to see you two sneak off somewhere, that’d be unpleasant to think about. Yeesh!” Mista exclaimed. “Unless, of course, you’d want an audience. . .”
You could feel your intense blush, you felt like your face was just smothered in flames. You looked over at Abbacchio who looked as if he was ready to beat the shit out of Mista for the comment.
“You’re just jealous ‘cause you’ll never get some, Mista!” Narancia retorted, which caused Mista to grab the front of his shirt and yank Narancia towards him.
“The hell did you say? I’ll have you know the amount of chicks--” Mista was cut off by Bruno.
“Now, now, Mista. It’s okay, we all know about the amount of women you think about fucking.” Bruno stated.
Mista cried out in offense. “B-Bucciarati! Not you too!”
Everyone at the table broke out in laughter, including Abbacchio. Well, almost everyone. Mista was moping about the ridicule that suddenly fell upon him. Once the ruckus gradually died down to an idle chatter, you felt Abbacchio’s hot breath on your face.
“Join me at my place tonight.” He murmured in your ear.
Looking at him, he acted as if nothing happened and continued to listen in on the conversation at hand, only rarely would he join in. Throughout the duration of the luncheon, however, the arm he had wrapped around your waist stayed there, tightening whenever someone made an offhand or playful comment about you.
You were oddly comforted by this act, which also gave you a tiny bit of hope that Abbacchio would eventually come around to forming some sort of meaningful relationship with you.
That night, you took a taxi to Abbacchio’s house, it was a twenty minute drive from your place to his. Bruno had advised against going to Abbacchio’s place, and to an extent you almost took him up on that advice, but a burning desire to spend more time with Abbacchio raged inside of you.
Exiting the taxi once you paid the driver, you walked up to the door and rang the doorbell, waiting for an answer. It took a moment for Abbacchio to open the door, and just as you were about to ring the bell one more time, he revealed himself. He wasn’t wearing his normal attire, but rather a comfortable looking baggy white v neck shirt, with black lounge pants. In one hand, he held a glass of wine. Saying nothing, he invited you in, you followed him to the living room.
His house was dark, save for a couple of lamps that were turned on. Abbacchio sat down on the suede couch, motioning for you to sit down beside him. You looked at the glass coffee table in front of the couch, and saw a glass of wine poured for you. Sitting down on the couch, you leaned forward and grabbed the wine, sipping on it and staring at Abbacchio. He continued to say nothing, opting to study you.
“So what spurred you to invite me over tonight?” You asked.
“I wanted to talk.” Abbacchio responded.
“About?”
“Us.”
You slowly nodded. “Alright. Where do we even begin?”
“I don’t normally apologize,” Abbacchio began. “but I’m a huge fuck up and hate that I can’t move on from the past. The only time I’ve felt a sliver of happiness is in Bucciarati’s presence ever since my life went to shit.”
You were completely uncertain if you should let him know you knew a tiny bit about him, due to Bruno filling you in on a couple of things. You decided to stay quiet and let him continue.
“I’ve failed countless people, specifically my dead partner. His death haunts me like a ship without a sail. I almost died a while back, and while I was unconscious he. . . he came to me and told me things that I needed to hear. I still don’t know what to make of it, or if I should believe it.”
You frowned. “What was your initial reaction? To what your old partner told you.”
“I believed him at first. He was genuine, he was a great, righteous man, like Bucciarati. But. . . as I thought about it, I didn’t believe it anymore.”
“Then go with your first reaction. You obviously don’t need to worry about feeling guilty anymore because your first reaction was instinct.”
Abbacchio sighed, drinking more of his wine. “Maybe you’re right. All I know is that I’ve fucked up by dragging you into this shit. You deserve better.” He was silent for a moment before rubbing his face with his free hand. “I’ve had too much wine.”
A depressed and drunk Abbacchio was not something you were expecting to deal with tonight. You appreciated the heart to heart you were having with him, even if it was one sided.
You placed your hand on his, gently rubbing his knuckles. “Leone. . .”
He looked at you, staring into your eyes. Abbacchio was a broken man, and it was not your duty to fix him, but you knew how to make people feel better, and you were determined to make him feel good no matter what. You leaned in to kiss him, and he met you halfway. The kiss was tender and short, but it clearly got the message across.
Setting down his glass, Abbacchio pulled you into another kiss. You moved to straddle him, and deepened the kiss. It felt like it went on forever, and you cherished every moment of it. The minute you both broke apart, you pressed your forehead against his.
“Stay the night?” You asked.
He nodded, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. Who would’ve guessed that an intoxicated Abbacchio was sappy and needy? You took him for an angry drunk, but it was a pleasant surprise.
You both laid on the couch, holding the other. This was a side of Abbacchio that not many were allowed the privilege of seeing. The only two people who have seen this vulnerable side of Abbacchio were you and Bucciarati. It was highly likely that if anyone else was even told about Abbacchio being vulnerable, he’d maim whoever told the general public.
Your heart rate sped up as you debated saying something to Abbacchio, who you were pretty sure was dozing off right now.
“I love you, Leone.” You murmured.
Abbacchio only grunted in response, but you took that as a response that he felt the same way, at least somewhat.
It was a rare moment where spending time with him did not result in sex or your feelings getting hurt. Very briefly, Bucciarati crossed your mind. You planned to tell him about tonight as soon as possible.
Eventually, you both moved away from the couch, leaving the wine glasses to be cleaned up in the morning, and slept side by side in Abbacchio’s bed.
That night with Abbacchio was a night that would always stand out in your mind.
The next morning, you had woken up and Abbacchio was not beside you. You were going to be fairly pissed if he had left you at his house alone. Getting up out of bed and running your hand through your hair, you walked out of the room and peered into the living room. Abbacchio was sipping on coffee and sitting at the dinner table that was directly across from where the couch was. The wine glasses from last night were already cleaned up and put away. You headed over to where he was sitting to sit beside him.
Once sat down, you looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something. You weren’t going to say something because you weren’t sure what the hell you wanted to say.
“Don’t expect me to make you breakfast.” He stated flatly.
You laughed, albeit it was a bit awkward, after last night. “Don’t worry, I don’t.”
Twiddling your thumbs, you were both silent. How do you address the elephant in the room, which is addressing the acknowledgement of the elephant in the room from last night? It was a convoluted mess and you weren’t sure if you wanted to deal with it first thing in the morning.
“Can I at least get a ride to Libeccio?” You half joked.
Abbacchio shrugged. “Fine.”
You nodded. Jesus, this was extremely awkward.
Opening your mouth, then pausing for a moment, you said, “So, last night. . .”
“What of it? I was drunk.”
“And? Some very valuable information still came out last night, and quite frankly I want an answer. Are we going to further our relationship, make it something more than just fucking whenever there’s a confrontation? Sex is not an effective way of communication, Leone.”
“Abbacchio.”
If he weren’t one of the tallest, strongest people you knew, you would’ve punched him where he sat. You balled your fists up in anger, taking a deep breath in then exhaling. It wasn’t worth the trouble.
“I’ll just go to Libeccio myself. I’ll talk to you some other time. Goodbye.”
You got up from the table and left the house, slamming the door behind you and starting to walk towards the restaurant. While walking to Libeccio, you held back tears. You didn’t want to cry in public. What kind of gangster cries in public? You’d ruin the image of Passione if a fellow member were to spot you in tears on the sidewalk. You knew Giorno wouldn’t care, Giorno was caring and understanding, from what you heard from the others, he’s what made Passione a respectable gang. While that was an oxymoron, it had a bit of truth to it.
Once you reached the restaurant, you trudged in and sat down beside Bucciarati. Only Bucciarati and Mista were there, idly chatting while waiting for others to arrive. Bucciarati eyed you down, acutely aware of your current emotional state. He’s seen and heard you in anguish over the distressing situation with Abbacchio that it was a familiar sight he could spot from a mile away.
You heard Mista say your name. “Hey, you alright? You don’t look so good.”
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” you lied. “I had a nightmare.”
Mista frowned. “That’s certainly no good! You know, I’ve had my fair share of nightmares. You know what always helped me? Downing a shit ton of NyQuil. Not only do you sleep through the night, but you feel great in the morning. You know, there is one flavor that tastes like Jägermeister. . .”
You gave a slight smile of appreciation to Mista. The poor boy had no idea what you were actually going through, but he was still willing to help anyway that he could. Bucciarati continued to look at you, and you refused to meet his gaze. He knew you had went over to Abbacchio’s house, despite him warning against it. You knew he was disappointed in you. You bit your lip, almost breaking the skin.
Bucciarati reached his hand out and placed it on your leg reassuringly. You felt a bit better, but was still struggling to come to terms with everything that was going on, both inside your mind and outside.
“Stay with me tonight.” Bruno whispered. “This is not something that can simply be talked about over the phone. You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”
You nodded slightly. “I will. What time?”
“Any time that’s good for you.”
“Okay.” Your voice was barely a whisper.
It was going to be a long day and you knew it.
The day dragged on languidly and you were ready for it to end the minute it started. Your duties as a member of Passione, that normally served as a good distracter to your problems, seemed only to worsen them. You were walking home, about halfway there, when you realized you were to go over to Bucciarati’s place. You looked around at your surroundings, then frowned. It’d be a long walk and getting late by the time you get there. You decided to hurry home and change your clothes before heading back out. Thankfully about twenty five minutes into your walk, you spotted a taxi and were able to get to Bucciarati’s house quickly and easily.
When you arrived to Bucciarati’s place, he was quick to answer the door. He was wearing a black t-shirt with white sweatpants. You both said nothing as he led you inside his house and sat you down on his couch.
A setting not too different from last night with Abbacchio.
However, instead of talking over glasses of wine, Bruno brought you a cold glass of water.
“What happened last night?” Bruno inquired.
You sipped on the water, trying to think of a way to articulate yourself. “Well, um. . . We had some wine and we--well, Abbacchio-- talked about us and why everything has been so difficult. It did. . . offer some clarity, but it’s just. . . it’s a whole mess and I don’t know if I want to deal with it anymore.” You began to cry after holding it back all day.
Bruno rubbed your back comfortingly. He grabbed your hands that held the glass of water and gently lifted it up to urge you to drink it, you shakily drank from the cup then set it down again.
“What exactly did he say?”
You took a moment to regain yourself, then spoke in between sobs, “Just things you’ve informed me of. He mentioned you, talking about how you’re a righteous man.” You sniffed. “He’s right, you know.”
Bruno’s gaze softened and he smiled. “Anything else?”
“He told me that I deserve better. He was drunk, and I never should’ve gone to his place. I told him I loved him and we kissed, then a while later we went to bed. We didn’t do anything more than that.” You mumbled.
“I’ve known Abbacchio for years now. I consider him my best friend. If there’s one thing I know about him is that he lashes out towards things that make him afraid. He lashed out at Giorno for a long time. He’s mellowed out towards him, but sometimes gets tense. Abbacchio is afraid of losing people.” Bruno explained. “He’s doing the exact same thing with you. Him being drunk last night just gave you a little more insight to his emotions.”
“What do I do, Bruno?” You whimpered. “I don’t know what to do.”
Bruno wrapped his arm around your shoulder, staring deep into your eyes. You looked back into his comforting blue ones. He whispered your name, and your heart skipped a beat.
“Don’t waste your time on him anymore.” Bruno said simply. “He’s hurt your feelings, albeit without intending to, but the hurt is still there. When someone continues to hurt you, at some point it’s not worth staying. When the hurt outweighs the good in a relationship, at that point, it’s time to let it go and let fate take care of it.”
You continued to look at him, your heart thundering in your chest.
Bruno continued on, “You have people who care about you. . . People who love you. . . Those who will genuinely treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Those are the people you need to focus on.”
You rubbed the tears out of your eyes with your hands, sniffling a little and looking at Bruno with appreciation. “Thank you so much, Bruno. I don’t deserve you.” You laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry for continuing to bother you with this.”
“It’s alright. We’re friends, right? Friends love and care for each other. Come here.” Bruno pulled you in for a hug.
You hugged him back, clinging onto him for security and comfort. Exhaling shakily, you closed your eyes. Bruno rubbed comforting circles on your back. Reluctantly, you broke the hug and gave a weak smile.
“Feeling any better?”
“I guess so, but I am pretty exhausted.”
“Go rest. My bedroom is down the hall and to the left. I’ll take the couch tonight.” Bruno told you.
You shook your head. “No, sleep in your own bed, please. I don’t want you to sleep on this springy couch.”
“You think my couch is uncomfortable?” Bruno feigned offense.
“Yeah, I do, that’s why I’m saying you’re going to sleep with me.” You teased.
Bruno rolled his eyes, smiling. “Alright. Come on, then.”
You followed him into his bedroom, and moved to take your shoes off, then climbed into bed, snuggling under the thick, warm comforter. It smelled like Bruno; a very nice scent. You watched him as he also got under the covers, turning onto his side to face you.
“Promise you won’t try to pursue a relationship and get your feelings hurt again?”
You pouted playfully. “Fiineee.” You thought for a moment. “What if I get my feelings hurt by something else that’s not him?”
“That’s fine. It’s not the same issue so you can get hurt all you want.” Bruno replied.
You clutched your chest. “Ouch, I think that hurt my feelings, Bruno.”
“Want me to kiss it better, then?” He said sarcastically.
You thought for a moment. “Only if you want to. Bet you won’t, pussy.”
“There’s a lot of things I’m willing to do. What are those things, you may ask? That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
You lifted a brow. “Oh? Care to act out an example?”
Suddenly, you couldn’t speak. You panicked, lifting your hands to your mouth to feel a zipper over your lips.
“Now I don’t have to listen to you talk all night. Goodnight.” Bruno joked, moving to turn onto his other side and face away from you.
You let out muffled sounds of protests, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. The zipper suddenly left your mouth and you were able to talk again.
“You absolute bastard.” You huffed. “So mean to me, making my rough day worse than it already was.”
“Your rough day can end once you go to sleep. Rest.”
You remembered how exhausted you were. Bruno had a talent at making you forget certain things you were feeling, and it was both a blessing and a curse, because you could go back and forth with him all night. You looked at him, trying to make out his features in the dark. Shifting towards him, you wrapped yourself around his torso. You felt Bruno wrap his arms around you protectively. You listened to his heartbeat, it was fast. You thought nothing of it and decided not to bring it up, and instead close your eyes and try to fall asleep.
“You’re an amazing friend, Bruno.” You muttered sleepily.
“Yeah.” Bruno replied, almost sounding somber. “You’re a good friend, too.”
You slept through the night and felt extremely well rested when you woke up in the morning.
When you woke up in the morning, Bruno wasn’t beside you when you woke up, but the spot where he laid in the bed was still warm, a sign that he had gotten up not too long ago. Something smelled absolutely delicious. You got up out of the bed and walked down the hallway and into the kitchen, where Bucciarati was cooking what appeared to be eggs and sausage. You sat down at the table and blearily rubbed your face to wake yourself up a bit more.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Bruno asked, looking at you from over his shoulder while he cooked.
“Mm, yeah. Again, thank you for everything, Bruno.”
He smiled. “Of course.”
Bruno grabbed two plates and set one down in front of you and the other near a seat beside you, setting down cutlery and then returning to what he was cooking. A few minutes had passed and he walked back over to the table, giving you the breakfast he prepared and putting some on his own plate. He put the dirty pans in the sink and filled them with soap and hot water, then sat down beside you and began to eat.
You both ate breakfast in relative silence. You weren’t sure what to say, as you didn’t want to talk about the situation with Abbacchio. You knew what you were going to say to Abbacchio next time you saw him, there was no need to continue hurting or overanalyzing anything anymore.
“Would you like me to drive you to Libeccio?” Bruno offered.
You blinked. “Sure.”
The two of you continued to eat in silence, though it wasn’t an uncomfortable or awkward silence. It was content, and you didn’t mind it at all. You enjoyed Bruno’s presence, and you knew he enjoyed yours.
Once you and Bruno finished breakfast, you both headed to Libeccio. You felt a bit odd going to a restaurant and not eating there, as most of your meals came from eating there, regardless of if it was intentional or not.
Walking into the restaurant with Bucciarati, you looked at the table where you and the gang usually sat, seeing everyone was already there. You glanced at Abbacchio, and his eyes were closed while he was listening to music with headphones on. He opened his eyes to see who entered and saw you and Bucciarati, side by side, enter at the same time. Abbacchio looked at the two of you for an uncomfortable moment before returning to his own business. You and Bruno sat down in your usual seats. Which meant you were sitting beside Abbacchio.
Narancia yelled out in happiness, shoving a notebook with numbers scribbled all over it towards Fugo. “Fugo! Look, I did it! I got it right, didn’t I?”
Fugo grabbed the notebook and looked at it. He lifted a brow. “I’m surprised. You didn’t fuck it up this time and actually got it right.”
Narancia grinned. “Really?”
Fugo handed the notebook back to Narancia. “Yeah. If you keep getting the right answers, maybe you’ll actually be able to learn division next week.”
You looked at Bruno who was watching the scene go down, smiling at the progress Narancia was making. You slowly reached out your hand to hold his, which he accepted. It was unnoticeable to others across the table, only if you were standing up, beside, or directly behind the two of you would one notice the hand holding. Abbacchio, however, did notice.
As the gang continued to chat, after awhile you let go of Bruno’s hand and stood up.
“I’m taking a piss. I’ll be back.” You announced.
They all made varying reactions to your comment. Narancia overreacted, Fugo rolled his eyes.
Just before you were about to enter the bathroom, you were stopped by a voice.
“Hey.”
Abbacchio.
You turned around to face him. “What do you want?”
“You with Bucciarati now?” He questioned.
“No. We’re just friends.” You answered. “Does that bother you?”
Abbacchio looked away. “Tsk. I was going to tell you that I don’t want to fucking deal with this situation anymore. We’re better off as work associates than trying to figure out what the hell we are.”
You straightened up. “I agree. I don’t want to deal with this either. Thank you for the clarification. Now, if you don’t mind, I still have to piss.”
You turned around and entered the bathroom, you could hear the sound of Abbacchio leaving just before the door closed.
When you returned, you sat next to Bruno and shifted your chair to be closer to his, resuming your hand holding.
“Don’t worry, I washed my hands. Or did I?” You whispered to him.
Bruno stifled his laughter, shaking his head in response to your comment.
Everyone continued in the conversation, whether it was bickering, good natured teasing, or laughter, it was nice. You genuinely enjoyed spending time with the delinquents of Bruno’s team, regardless of what happened.
Sometimes, things don’t always have a happy ending you were expecting. Sometimes it ended in a way that was ambiguous, other times it ended badly. When it comes down to it, while it may not be what you were hoping for, you still find happiness in the little things.
And you found happiness in your friendship with Bucciarati and the other members of Passione.