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Out of the fog of sleep, I settle into the passionate fog that is admiring him asleep.
The shoulders that support the weight of an oversized uniform go up and down, quietly to the side; the thin sheet covering last night's markings. The eyelashes that quiver, as I have so often been able to witness, drown in dreams. The brows furrowed and worried; the famous furrow on the forehead that never goes out until the first glass of wine, is nothing more than my funny imagination of memories, of his personality that makes me sigh alone in this bed.
The relaxed face, the messy hair that spend days and days tucked away, trapped in the police facade, stretch out my fingers.
If we could ...
But as now, the eyelids open, slow and then resounding, unstable. He always jumps out of bed with the world chasing after him, pulling on his clothes and stumbling to the bathroom.
The words "Stay with me" never find the way out of my mouth when Leone kisses me goodbye and knocks on the door. The eyes that devour me every night spy with regret, and I understand within our selfishness that it is time to let go and leave.
Leone jumps again and sits on the edge of the bed. Muscles shifting, a yawn, the words are stuck in the throat. It's Saturday, Leone, stay. Stay forever.
Clutter my hair, kiss me even if you've just woken up. Listen to my problems, use your derogatory and pessimistic sense of humor. Offer a glass of wine and kiss me until you release your tensions. Sleep and wake up with me every day.
I can already see him leaving in the same car, parked in my building.
- Bruno?
- Huh? Are you going?
He finishes putting on his underwear, his eyebrows in that furrow again. With a half smile that melts my heart, it kneels on the bed and pulls my face.
- Yeah. You want something?
I swallow, I inhale, I think. Stay forever. I love you, Leone. I close my eyes, one hand clutching his wrist, admitting my defeat and pride so unnecessary for the moment.
- Stay, please.
Silence. Opening my eyes, I see the gears thinking, planning, distrustful of failure in the routine. That deep blue seems to dredge me as we kiss once more in anguish.
Leone's fingers traced lines on my face as we parted, face clouded by the shadow of affection. My chest swells. He kisses my knuckles.
"If you want, I'll stay."