Chapter Text
Abbacchio tossed and turned under the sheets, huffing in frustration. If felt as though he couldn’t find a comfortable position no matter how hard he tried to stay still. Combing back the strands of hair that had plastered themselves to his face, he checked the clock on his night stand, 2:24 am. Abbacchio cursed under his breath before shoving his face back into the pillow. He had to wake up early the next morning at about 7. Bucciarati was collecting the weekly protection money from the local shops in their territory and Abbacchio was usually the one to accompany him. He stood up, padding his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water.
It was Narancia’s turn to do the dishes, and the kid had been putting them off like always. The only fresh cups left were a set of wine glasses. Despite his exhaustion, wine sounded quite appealing at the moment. He sighed and filled one of the glasses up with water instead, hoping that it would be enough to sooth his craving.
Getting ready to head back upstairs, Abbacchio looked back at the kitchen. The dishes really were a mess, piled high and almost spilling out of the sink. He debated what he should do. It’d be great to get some sleep but he knew it wouldn’t be happening tonight. Cleaning the dishes, while not exactly entertaining, would keep him busy. Abbacchio got out a wash cloth and rag, turning on the faucet and shining the cutlery and plates. It was rather relaxing, allowing his body to work on auto pilot as he was transfixed with the task at hand. These kind of mundane and methodical jobs truly were a saving grace as they allowed his mind to go blank while being simultaneously productive.
At about 3 am, Abbacchio frowned in disappointment, putting the last fork in its tray and laying back down in bed. With nothing left to keep him occupied, the silence of his room became oppressive. He shut his eyes tightly, hoping sleep would eventually come.
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Leone groaned, digging the heel of his palm hard enough into his eyes to see spots. Scrubbing at his face, he took a long sip from his coffee mug, welcoming the burn that followed. Sitting on the deck outside the station, he watched the bustling streets of Naples drift by, the clamor and noise serving as a pleasant distraction from his thoughts. He saw a group of young children kicking a ball, passing it back and forth while pushing each other around with playful intent. It was a hot day but a crisp breeze sliced through the heat to wonderful effect. A feeling of peace overcame him at the sight.
“Your break is over.” He heard Marco say from behind him, Leone gave a small nod, about to get up when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, holding him in place.
“There’s alcohol in there, right?” Marco sat next to Leone, gesturing to the mug tightly grasped in his hands, “You know you’re not allowed to drink on the job, let alone at your age. How’d you even get that stuff?”
Leone scoffed, pressing the rim of the cup to his lips before hesitating, “How’d you figure it out?”
“I can smell it on your breath. Well that, and there was an empty beer bottle in your trash can…” Marco trailed off, noticing that he wasn’t listening.
“What’s eating you up, Leone?”
He slowly looked up at Marco, noting the genuine concern etched into his features despite the gentle smile he wore. Leone grimaced, turning away, “Nothing, nothing at all.”
“Abbacchio…”
Leone quickly got up, feeling nauseous as he briskly walked back into the station while chewing on some stale mints, his mind clouded and hazy.
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About four hours later, Abbacchio was greeted with the shrill screech of someone from the living room. “Oh boy,” Abbacchio grumbled, literally rolling out of bed before making his way to the bathroom, thanking whatever god out there that he didn’t run into anybody on the way. His mascara was smeared and crusted, making his already prominent bags somehow seem even worse. His lipstick, all cracked and faded, and his matted hair weren’t looking too hot either. Abbacchio splashed cold water on his face, wiping the product off before pulling his concealer out. He didn’t often use this stuff, but walking around with what looked like two black eyes wasn’t a very appealing thought.
After reapplying his makeup, he made his way downstairs to see what all the commotion was about. Narancia and Mista were laughing and talking in rushed voices while Giorno was picking at a croissant. Fucking Giorno, even when he was eating he somehow was able to look smug with those stupid bird nests on his forehead.
“OH THERE HE IS!” Mista exclaimed, “ABBACCHIO, ABBACCHIO!” Narancia chimed in, the both of them looking at him with such intensity.
“What is it.”
“Who did the dishes? When I came down they were all put away! Mista thinks it was you but there’s no way you would do my chores for me and Giorno said he didn’t do it. I know Fugo wouldn’t do it as well because he is strict about me being responsible and all so I think it was Bucciarati! Am I right?!”
Oh, that’s right. Abbacchio had almost forgotten that he did the dishes, “No, I did them last night.”
Narancia’s expression shifted from confident to complete shock as even Giorno looked at him with mild surprise.
“HAHAHA, I KNEW IT! PAY UP!” Mista screamed, shoving his finger into Narancia’s chest.
Mista was about to say something but Abbacchio interrupted him with a sharp look, “What made you think I did the dishes last night? Narancia’s guess was the more logical option. Bucciarati cares a lot about tidiness, I only did them because I was bored.” Abbacchio tried to make his tone seem indifferent, but he was genuinely intrigued as to why Mista would place his money on him.
Mista gave him a shit eating grin, chuckling as he pocketed some crumpled bills that Narancia handed him, “I had to wake up in the middle of the night to piss. I saw your door was open. I didn’t think much of it but when Narancia got all crazed over who did the dishes, I figured it was most likely you.”
“HEY THAT’S NO FAIR YOU BASTARD!” Narancia shrieked, cuffing Mista with his fist against the side of his head, “YOU WERE HOLDING OUT ON ME, YOU SAID YOU HAD NO IDEA WHO DID IT!”
Narancia chased Mista around the counter, attempting to snatch his money back. Abbacchio shook his head, going to the fridge and pulling out some left over spaghetti from the day prior. He felt someone tap his shoulder gently, only to turn around and see Giorno looking at him with an odd expression. A deep scowl crept onto his face.
“What do you want?”
“Why were awake last night?”
Straight to the point as always. Abbacchio sneered, “None of your damn business.” He turned back to the spaghetti, waiting for it to be done heating up while he grabbed a bottle of wine. It was a bit early for a drink, but he had a sudden craving. He set his pasta down and emptied what was left of the Barbera into his glass. He glowered at his own reflection in the crimson liquid. His urge to drink wasn’t usually this bad. He knocked back the wine in less than a minute, he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere close to drunk off of just one glass, especially wine, but just the taste alone comforted him.