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For many years, waking up had been a bit of a gamble for Leone. He simply didn’t know what would be awaiting him when he opened his eyes.
Perhaps a plethora of empty liquor bottles, or maybe a bloodied outfit he hadn’t bothered to throw in the laundry bin upon coming home. Maybe he’d awaken to the sound of his alarm, or his own biological clock telling him to get up. On other occasions, it was more of a mental awakening than a physical one, if he’d found himself sleeplessly staring up at the ceiling all night.
However, lately, Leone’s mornings have been a lot more predictable in the best ways possible. Aided by a tight routine and a slightly healthier headspace, his nights are actually somewhat restful now. And so, opening his eyes in the early morning is no longer constantly associated with dread or regret.
Today in particular, Leone feels himself awaking to an unfamiliarly light feeling. Giddiness almost, he realises with slight embarrassment. When was the last time he’d woken up excited for the day ahead of him? He can’t quite recall, and that in itself says enough, doesn’t it?
Two-toned eyes are deliberately pinched shut, even if there is no intention to fall back asleep. There’s a good motivation behind it too, and ultimately the reason why Leone wishes to keep his eyes shut for just a while longer. Because he knows that when he opens them, he’ll be rewarded with a sight he may never forget. One he wants to capture with a slightly more lucid mind.
Right here, beside him, is none other than Bruno Bucciarati.
That particular thought alone is enough to amplify the initial excitement, the fluttering of his lashes, the itching of his fingers to reach out and touch what – or rather who – he knows to be there.
Don’t get him wrong, Leone has known that this day would come at some point when he started growing closer to Bucciarati – no, Bruno, as he consistently calls him now. But expecting and experiencing are two completely different entities, and it is clear at this point which one Leone prefers.
This isn’t the first time they’ve shared a bed before, but the implications are completely different now. The sound of that soft voice, equally giddy as Leone had been (and still is), wishing him a good night. The ghost of plump lips pressing against his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw, before reaching his own. Calloused fingers tucking pale hair behind Leone’s ear with such tenderness, he might as well have melted straight into his mattress.
And now, in a few moment’s time, that same, soft voice will greet him once again, possibly a bit rough from sleep. Those same lips might kiss him awake, perhaps slightly chapped from having been parted throughout the night. And maybe those same fingers will tangle through Leone’s sleep-mussed locks in a lazy attempt at taming them.
Leone’s heart already feels so overwhelmingly full, and he hasn’t even opened his eyes yet.
It’s a foreign feeling, one he has only recently reconciled with as a renewed stability entered his life. With it, came something Leone had never expected, had never allowed himself to feel. At least, not for the past few years.
Happiness.
Raw and sticky like honey. Bright and warm like the afternoon sun on a smouldering summer day. Refreshing like the salty ocean breeze he has come to appreciate more. Comforting like… well, shimmering blue eyes, pitch black hair, and a smile that instantly calms any turmoil within Leone. Even if just for a brief moment.
God, when has he become such a damn sap?
Consequently, that is exactly the reason why Leone decides to take a moment before blinking his eyes open. Who knows what embarrassing things might come out of his mouth unfiltered?
Surely he has already said and done enough things he’d mentally slap himself for these past weeks. Things that Bruno most certainly isn’t afraid to bring up with a knowing grin on his face. Things that had caused those cool and collected pools of cerulean to widen slightly whenever Leone’s uncharacteristic sweetness caught him off guard.
Dating Bruno Bucciarati is definitely an experience, alright.
It has taken them a while to officially name their blossoming relationship. Hesitance spurred by the implications of their career, and the dangers that might come with such closeness. But then again, they have long since established that both of them would willingly put their lives at risk for the other if need be.
That being said, it’s still difficult to come to terms with the knowledge that Bruno feels just as strongly about Leone as he does for him. Not that that’s much of an issue though; Bruno has been more than willing to show Leone just to what extent his feelings are returned. No questions asked.
Leone’s lips have unconsciously curled up slightly due to his own overly sappy internal monologue, at which point he deems himself awake enough to finally open his eyes.
So he does, blinking against the light streaming in through the curtains that he really should replace with proper black-out ones soon. And once his eyes have grown accustomed to the sudden onslaught of brightness, Leone finally sees what he has been anticipating since he’d awoken a few minutes earlier:
An absolutely, undeniably, utterly… empty bed.
Instantly, Leone shoots up, patting at the comforter as if Bruno has just inexplicably deflated and flattened himself.
No, this is fine, he probably just went to the bathroom. Or maybe he’d been awake for a while and craved some coffee. No need to panic.
Leone flops down onto his back, staring up at the ceiling for what feels like half an hour, but could only have been two minutes tops, after which he turns to his side to glance at the desk pushed against the other side of the room.
It’s completely cleared and empty, a result of his somewhat frantic preparation for Bruno’s visit, so he’d have a space to put his overnight bag. Leone had smiled at the gaudy little thing, white with golden details to match his trademark suits, endeared by Bruno’s absolutely unnecessary eye for detail.
It takes Leone a good few seconds to realise that said bag isn’t anywhere in sight, at which he sits back up all over again.
Had he misheard Bruno when he said he’d have the morning off? But that’s the entire reason why they’d planned this in the first place.
Something uncomfortable replaced the previously light and airy feeling in Leone’s chest. An entirely more familiar sense of dread.
What if Bruno had second thoughts?
What if he’d regretted his decisions?
What if Leone had come on too strong and scared him off?
What if Bruno had finally realised just how pathetic Leone really was?
What if what if what if what if—
No.
Bruno would never. Not like this, at least.
Slightly shaky hands drag down his face in an attempt to smooth out the scowl that has re-settled without even an ounce of trouble. Autopilot, perhaps. A seemingly permanent expression that had slowly but surely been coaxed into something softer by the one person Leone hoped to see beside him this morning.
Maybe his unexpected streak of positivity was too good to be true after all.
A sigh, and one last glance at the empty side of his bed later, Leone finds himself shuffling out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen after a quick bathroom visit. Even the toiletry bag Bucciarati had neatly placed on the sink’s counter is no longer there.
And just like that, a morning that should have been full of butterflies, fleeting touches, cheesy comments and even cheesier smiles has turned into something so dreadfully plain , Leone doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.
He makes a beeline for his phone, which he kept in the charger in his living room overnight, to check for any messages.
Nothing.
The pit in Leone’s stomach only grows heavier with each passing second as he falls back into the couch cushions. Though all he sees in his mind’s eye, sitting here, is a slightly tipsy Bruno pressed snugly against his side, laughing at the movie Leone hadn’t been paying much attention to the night before.
Well then, to the kitchen it is.
He might as well eat the fresh berries he’d bought with the intention of whipping up a nice breakfast for his guest. But alas.
Leone yanks the refrigerator open while glancing at the digital clock of his oven. Nine twenty. Quite late for his standards, just like he’d planned today. Too bad he is here to spend his rare, lazy morning by himself.
With a renewed scowl that, at this point, resembles a pout more than anything else, Leone grabs onto the bowl of fresh fruits before shutting the fridge again.
He pauses.
Something caught his attention. A brief flash of something in his peripheral when he’d closed the fridge.
Leone places the bowl onto the kitchen counter and steps in front of the refrigerator once more. Pinned under the one fridge magnet he owns (a gag gift from Mista, reading ‘keep calm and drink wine’), is a piece of paper that Leone recognises to come from the notepad he keeps on the coffee table in his living room.
What is written on that piece of paper, however, instantly refuels the excitement he had felt when he woke up earlier. Though not without a healthy dose of apprehension to go along with it. A time stamp, as was scribbled onto the paper, could have many possible outcomes at this point.
Even still, there is not an ounce of hesitation as Moody Blues sidles up behind its user, ready to uncover the truth behind the message. Be it negative or positive, Leone is curious more than anything, and more than ready to figure out why he woke up in an empty bed that morning.
With practiced ease, Moody Blues rewinds to match the time written on the piece of paper. The message seemed to have been recorded around five in the morning, a fact which only raises more question marks.
Though before Leone can allow himself to sink back into that familiar spiral of bleakness, his stand morphs, and Leone takes a few steps back.
Here is Bruno, dressed in the casual outfit he had packed in the overnight bag that he’d brought with him, which is now slung across his shoulder as his gaze is trained down at his wrist watch, no doubt to memorise the time stamp that Leone has found on his fridge.
And just like that, he looks up with a sigh that sounds so forlorn and defeated, Leone almost feels the urge to mimic it.
“Good morning, Leone,” comes that warm voice, obviously hushed as not to disturb Leone, who had still been fast asleep when the message was recorded.
“Morning,” Leone finds himself uttering redundantly in response. He would have had half the mind to be embarrassed, had he not been so relieved to see Bruno here. Replay or not.
“I’m so sorry for leaving without a warning,” Bruno continues, brows pinched together. Leone wants to reach in and smooth out the deep crease with his thumb. “Something urgent has come up, unfortunately. I won’t bore you with the details now, but don’t worry too much.”
Easier said than done.
Bruno smiles then, and those butterflies in Leone’s stomach start fluttering all anew. “I’ll be out for a day or three, though I was smart enough to bully Polpo into giving me a day off when I return.”
The smile widens, transforming into something a bit more mischievous, before he adds, “A full day.”
And wow, yeah, Leone instantly feels stupid for thinking, even for a moment, that Bruno would’ve just left without a trace this morning.
“I didn’t want to just leave you a note or a text, so… here I am,” Bruno chuckles, looking somewhat sheepish.
It instantly reminds Leone of when he’d been caught red handed at Libeccio a few months ago, thinking about how Bruno took his time to awkwardly speak to an empty room just to get his point across in a semi-personal way. Though now, in this particular instance, Leone is glad that Bruno is as crazy as he is.
Oh, but who is he kidding? Leone has always been particularly partial to that side of his.
Bruno shifts, and drops his bag to the floor for the sake of spreading his arms out, still grinning in Leone’s general direction.
Now that is something new.
“Come here,” utters Moody Bruno, and who is Leone to refuse? Though, as he moves in to accept the invitation, Bruno’s arms are already closing, leaving a partially disgruntled, but mostly amused Leone to stare at the strange image of Bruno hugging… the air.
Nothing a little rewinding can’t fix though.
Bruno’s arms open and close once more, though this time around Leone’s shoulders. The angle is slightly off, and Bruno’s arms end up hovering a little, but Leone can’t find it in himself to be bothered by it when he has Bruno in his arms after the completely unnecessary emotional rollercoaster. Or rather, Bruno’s replay.
Deciding to ignore the fact that he is practically hugging his own stand, Leone simply squeezes a little tighter around Bruno’s waist as he speaks up again.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers into Leone’s ear, who shudders in response. Perhaps waiting for three days isn’t as bad as it sounds, considering that he’ll have something to look forward to.
Bruno’s hands move, pressing against his shoulders (after a bit of shifting on Leone’s end), and sliding up his neck where his hands come to rest at his cheeks.
And just like that, any leftover anxiety seeps out of him, courtesy of the lips that clumsily press against his own.
“Oh, by the way,” Bruno mumbles against his mouth before pulling back altogether with a suspiciously innocent look on his face, “Please remind me to bring earplugs next time. I almost couldn’t hear my phone over the sound of your snoring.”
Slack-jawed, and eyes widened, Leone receives a final kiss, pressed against his jaw before Bruno steps back with a cheeky wave and morphs into Moody Blues.
It’s a good thing he has three days to recover.