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The wind outside howled madly. It was a shock that the small cottage was still in one piece, but that could be thanked for by Abbacchio's tireless restoration. Though the snow coated everything in it’s path outside, the frigid air nipping anything in it’s wake, inside was so very warm. The heat was blasting but many of the inhabitants still wore heavy coats, hats and sweaters. Six bodies habited the cottage, doing an assortment of things.
Abbacchio, the human, was busy fluffing his tiny christmas tree that the rest of the moths living in his house basically forced him to buy. It was three feet tall and already dying. The pine needles fell from it easily, turning a sickly yellow color and covering the hardwood floor underneath. That was one of the only decorations provided. Other than the mistletoe above one of the doors, sad looking tinsel and a single ornament adorning the sad christmas tree that Narancia got from god knows where.
“Ah, Christmas spirit,” Abbacchio muttered, giving up entirely on the tree. It would take a miracle to make the dead and decaying thing look half decent. It looked shitty, to say the least.
Four days before Christmas. The days were winding down slowly and Abbacchio was still considering on what to get the moths that inhabited his house. Frankly, he was considering if getting them anything at all was fine. They were a whole different species, with altering customs and traditions. It was likely gift giving, holiday cheer, and everything in between was out of their understanding. Bruno had mentioned something about a feast every Christmas night, however.
He was to go into town later. It would be the polite thing to do, getting presents. Besides, this was the closest thing he was going to get to a family...despite how utterly chaotic it may have been. He had other things to do, like shopping, too. It wouldn’t be too suspicious. Abbacchio was a bit worried about the moths ransacking his room and finding their gifts early. He just had to hide them
well, he assumed.
There was also the matter of exactly what to get them. It plagued him. A few, like Fugo and Mista were easy to think of while Narancia, Giorno, and most certainly Bruno were much more difficult to think of what to buy.
He would manage...hopefully.
Abbacchio turned to Bruno, who was making a sandwich, one of the foods the human had to teach him how to make. The sandwiches had become a staple for the moth, new and exciting to eat, it seemed.
“I’m going out for a bit. Please don’t let your gremlins destroy my house.”
Bruno bit a chunk out of the sandwich and hummed. “You know I can’t promise that.”
“Ugh. Whatever. If you see any one of them with matches, Take. It. Away.”
“Also, can’t promise that.”
“You really can,” Abbacchio argued.
“I can try.”
“That’s all I can hope for,” he said with a roll of his eyes, and just like that, left the house.
————
The shops were, predictably, bustling. Last minute presents being bought, people getting their christmas dinners in order, maybe some decorations that were yet to be bought. Abbacchio could understand. He was a little late to all the gift buying himself but it was awfully baffling just how many people also followed in suit.
Abbacchio had bounced from store to store. Turns out, finding gifts for people after spending around three christmases alone, was kind of hard. He somehow managed though.
Fugo was easy. The kid was book obsessed. He owned a copy of Abbacchio’s crime novel that the man was sure the kid had read over four times. The man was honored over this. Fugo valued his writing so highly, always asking to see his notes and just what went into a new chapter or a page. Abbacchio got him a couple of novels, mostly crime and also some horror thrown in for extra measure.
Abbacchio went into Bass Pro, a store he rarely went into unless he needed stuff for his cabin. He bought some ammo for Mista’s revolver. He had been teaching the kid how to shoot a gun for a while. Mista originally started out with a homemade slingshot. His keen sense of aim and dead eye caught Abbacchio’s attention and spurred the idea of teaching him how to shoot. Of course, a lot of safety precautions were taken but ammo was definitely the best route he could take. A gaudy bright and blue beanie also happened to catch his eye and he threw that in his cart as well.
Narancia was...a bit more hard. The kid was overly excitable, rowdy and destructive. He couldn’t comprehend exactly what the kid wanted, or if he even wanted anything in the first place. Why did stuff like this have to be so hard? The kid had a tendency to slip out of the house and roam the woods. Abbacchio would be lying if he said that didn’t make him a tad bit nervous. He put the sheepsfoot knife on the conveyor belt, knowing damn well he would regret this. Paired with a big large fluffy blanket like his own (that Narnacia was notorious for stealing from his room, leaving his bed cold and feeling small.)
Abbacchio had to buy a present for the little brat. He really didn’t want to. The kid had mauled up his arm for simple stuff like fixing Bruno’s barrettes. Didn’t really deserve a gift but there would be havoc to wreak if he saw everyone else getting presents. It was just a phase (hopefully) and the kid would grow to be mature as Fugo (Abbacchio’s favorite moth child.) But the affinity the kid shared with life, particularly frogs and ladybugs was hard to ignore. Going down the children’s section of a store felt weird, being kidless...technically. They had just what he needed. A ladybug plush along with the biggest frog one he could find. They were soft and twice the size of Giorno. Perfect.
And the hardest person...Bruno. He was lowkey at a loss of what to get the moth. What did he even want? Despite spending the most time with Bruno, he was struggling to think of gifts for him.
Abbacchio spend a little too long scaling the isles. He was beginning to think hopeless until he walked past a large coat. Too large in fact, fur lined and a familiar tear drop pattern in black. It was perfect, instantly making Abbacchio’s eyes light up. Bruno had mentioned his fur coat had thinned out a bit. All Abbacchio needed was to make a few adjustments to the back to fit Bruno’s large wings.
With the shopping complete, Abbacchio proceeded back to his car. Multiple bags were in the backseat from where he bounced from store to store. A large thing of wrapping paper, patterned with trees, snowflakes and deer, was alongside the bags. It was the last thing in stock. He only hoped he remembered how to wrap presents.
Eh. It was going to be a weird Christmas, anyways. There were literal moth men living in his house; a botched wrapping job was the least of his worries.
--------
Unsurprisingly, Abbacchio hated Christmas music. It was too upbeat, too cheery, too ungodly repetitive. The same songs every year and the same reaction from everyone. Joy, happiness, elation. It was something Abbacchio just couldn’t manage to get behind. It wasn’t helping that nearly every single music station was playing god awful tinny tunes. The ride back home was a silent one, to say the least.
And once he was home, he was faced with an issue. If he walked in the house with the presents, the kids would no doubt swarm him with nagging questions and attempts to rip open the bags to see the contents inside. Even with grocery shopping, it was the same.
“Just gotta bring ‘em in while they’re sleeping,” Abbacchio muttered to himself and pulled the key out of the ignition. It was the best he could come up with. Just take the bags without presents inside to not seem suspicious. Leone was momentarily embarrassed with how much effort he was putting in with this Christmas.
He grabbed a couple bags and headed inside, praying he wouldn’t seem too suspicious. As always, Bruno was sitting on the couch. Mista and Narancia were arguing back and forth, Fugo was reading a book stolen from Abbacchio’s nightstand, and Giorno sat on the couch next to Bruno. Everything seemed to pause when the door swung open.
“Leone!” Narancia exclaimed, rushing towards him. “What’d you buy?”
Abbacchio rolled his eyes at the predictability. “None of your business.”
“So mean,” the kid pouted.
“Just a few things. Nothing important.”
Fugo eyed the bags as Abbacchio placed them on the counter. “You were gone too long for that to be all you bought.”
“Stopped for coffee,” he lied. It seemed to take well. Only a squint from Fugo and he returned back to his book. He started to take out the contents of the bag.
He grabbed a lighter from a drawer and set out a candle. It was pine scented. Sure, Abbacchio may loathe the snow and Christmas music, but the candles sold every year almost made up for it.
“Don’t fuck with this candle and burn my house down. I’m serious.”
“Who would do that?” Narancia innocently asked.
“You. Why wouldn’t it be you.”
Bruno chuckled at the whole back and forth. He always found it so amusing to watch. “I think he learned his lesson last time, Leone.” With Narancia’s back turned to the elder moth, the old scorch mark was clear as day.
“Didya get us coffee?” Mista asked.
“No. You are all hyper enough, I am not giving you more energy.”
“Aw,” Mista whined, throwing himself on the couch in defeat.
Abbacchio rolled his eyes. “Yes, how tragic,” he deadpanned.
The man started to put away food items in their respected areas for later. Just basic stuff like bread, milk, tea, and an assortment of soup and snacks. He was still acutely aware of the kids hovering around him, including Bruno.
“Look, I don’t have anything for any of you, everyone can go back to what they were doing,” he bluntly stated.
Narancia sighed heavily, slapping his hands on the counter in mock boredom. “But there isn’t anything to do!”
“Find something to occupy your time, like Fugo, who is using his time actually efficiently without bothering anyone. Be like Fugo.”
Everyone sans Bruno and Fugo, rolled their eyes. Fugo flushed and smiled brightly behind his hand which was covering his mouth.
“Ugh, you always pick favorites.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Mista sat up from the couch and groaned. This clearly wasn’t going anywhere. “Fine, ‘m gonna go shoot.”
“Oh! Oh! Can I come?” Narancia excitedly asked.
Bruno appeared weary but sighed. His hand danced through Giorno’s hair, who had somehow fell asleep through the whole ordeal. “Please be careful and take precautions. Do not aim the gun at each other again, please.”
The two nodded, fully aware of the safety measures. Bruno was a strong advocate against the gun Abbacchio had bought them but when Mista promised he wouldn’t hurt himself or others, Bruno had to give in. There was also the matter of Mista holing himself in his room for weeks when Bruno took the gun away the first time.
The two moths turned to Abbacchio, almost expecting some sort of warning or scolding. They got none, except a curt “Don’t shoot your eyes out.”
“Pog!” They both yelled in unison and flew through the door. Which left Fugo, a sleeping Giorno, Bruno and Abbacchio left in the room. Which didn’t last long, seeing as how Fugo sensed the tension (which he thought to be romantic, something he wanted nothing more than to gag at) and grabbed his book. He padded up the stairs without a second thought.
Abbacchio threw himself on the couch next to Bruno. He already felt exhaustion creeping at his bones, despite not doing much. The goth assumed it was from talking to the kids. Even spending a day with all of them caused a migraine and the urge to down a Pinot Noir. Abbacchio was amazed Bruno was able to put up with it.
“So…” Abbacchio sighed, trying to start some small talk with Bruno. He thought back to the presents in his car. “Do you celebrate Christmas in your own...moth...culture? Do you even know what Christmas is?”
Bruno giggled. The man held heavy eye contact with Abbacchio as he responded. “I noticed human’s celebrating on the day a while ago and adopted some of my own practices to match there's. Usually, on Christmas, you called it, we would find big game for a feast, as well as any other food. After we are done eating, we would all snuggle up in our den and sleep until the sun rose the next day.”
“Oh,” Abbacchio said. He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting, but it wasnt that. It was interesting, though. It wasn’t exactly like Bruno could go buy presents at a store for his children. The sclera, antenna, strange legs and feet, not to mention wings would give him away almost immediately. “That’s pretty cool.”
“I see you’ve put up decorations and other things.”
“Ah, yeah. Mistletoe, the christmas tree, garland. Just normal christmas shit I’ve had from previous years.”
The moth beamed at Abbacchio. It was clear he was very happy learning about the human’s customs and traditions. Bruno’s hand brushed through the sleeping Giorno’s fur gently and he sunk further into the couch. He was intrigued to say the least. He wanted to hear more insight. For years, he had spent his days and years in the forest, overlooking humanity from a distance, wondering what their strange little lives were like and now he was finally learning.
“What is the purpose of the tree?” He asked. There truly wasn’t much purpose cutting down a tree, dragging it inside and sticking bright colored orbs on it...or was there?
“Oh,” Abbacchio hummed, thinking of the simple answer. “I guess it’s for show, for one thing, and then parents will stick presents under the tree when it’s Christmas morning.”
“Presents?”
Abbacchio really hoped he wasn’t giving too much away. “Yeah, presents. Christmas is usually a time for gift giving. Parents will give their children gifts and so will significant others.”
“Oh…” Bruno said, sounding oddly dejected. His antenna slightly shifted downwards. “I hope the kids won’t be too disappointed I didn’t get them anything. Though we've never celebrated this way, Narancia and Mista seemed to be watching a lot of the movies about Christmas. They may expect something.”
‘You don’t have to worry about that. I’m getting everyone at least some type of gift,’ he wanted to say, but held back. There was no point in the surprise if he just gave it away. He really hoped once he set these presents out tonight that he wouldn’t wake up to half torn sheets of wrapping paper and ripped up gifts.
“Hey, I’m sure It’ll be fine. Besides, I’m already planning on some stuff for the holiday.”
Bruno’s antenni lifted and a high pitched chirping sound echoed through the room. “Me as well!” Abbacchio was almost scared to ask just what that entailed.
“And the mistletoe?” Bruno asked. Abbacchio promptly went a shade darker.
“Ah, that’s for couples, usually.”
“Couples of what?”
Abbacchio scoffed. “It’s for people in relationships. You probably know it as, like, mates.”
“Oh!” Bruno chirped. He looked surprised but kept his smiling face, nonetheless. “Fun!”
“Ah, yeah…’fun’.”
Abbacchio sighed. The days leading up to Christmas were certainly going to be long ones.
--------
Waking up at six in the morning, on Christmas day, just to put away the presents, was not a very pleasant experience for the human. Setting his alarm for the first time in years was strange and very startling to wake up to the blaring vibrations. He was so ungodly thankful that he wrapped the presents the day before because he was not doing it this morning.
All the presents had been stuffed deep inside his closet. He made some alterations to Mista’s hat and Bruno’s coat that would be able to fit either the antenna or wings. That took a decent while. He had forgotten mainly how to sew and cut clean lines, so that was a new learning experience on it’s own. But now they were wrapped and ready to be placed downstairs.
Abbacchio threw on his robe, grabbed all the presents at once, and slinked downstairs quietly. All the presents had designated name tags, as to not get confused with each other. He felt kind of stupid, placing presents under a tree for moth creatures, that only he knew about, who were occupying his household. It was silly. But it felt right.
After placing each individual present under the tree with care, a wave of exhaustion fell over him. He really was not used to waking up so early, much less doing anything except falling back asleep. He landed on the couch with an ‘oomph’ promising that he would just close his eyes for a couple of minutes before he would get up again.
The next thing he knew, the sound of gnawing was grinding against his ears. He blearily opened his eyes and looked at whatever was causing the wretched noise. The veil of sleepiness was still washed over him but upon seeing one of the moth children hunched over at the sad, small tree, it was quickly wiped away.
“Hey! Get away!” He yelled, obviously started the hell out of the poor kid. It was Fugo, who jerked back and fell.
“What?!” He yelled. His expression was a tad bit frantic and Abbacchio felt bad for panicking the kid.
“Get away from the tree,” he sighed and righted himself into a sitting position on the couch. It was apparent his slumber lasted a lot longer than just the promised fifteen minutes. “Sorry for scaring you.”
Fugo rolled his eyes, pretending like he wasn’t affected in the least. He pointed to the wrapped gifts on the floor, still standing exactly where he left them. “What are these?”
“Presents.”
Fugo furrowed his brow. “Presents?”
“Yes. Presents. It’s a tradition for Christmas to give gifts to the members of your family. And since we are all living together,” Abbachio muttered under his breath, “or in your case inhabiting a poor old man’s cottage…” Fugo did not look pleased at this and Abbacchio continued. “I decided to get everyone a present or two. Just cheap stuff. I’m not spending much money on you shits.”
“Hmm. Weird. There’s one for everyone?”
Abbacchio nodded.
“What’s mine?”
“I can’t tell you. That wouldn’t make it a present, huh?”
It was clear that Fugo was not an avid enjoyer of presents. He scrunched up his nose in mock disgust. “What’s the point in all this if I can’t know it?”
“Everyone opens their own presents later, chill. You’ll get your turn. When everyone is awake, okay?”
“...okay.”
Abbacchio rubbed his eyes. “What time is it, anyways?”
“Eight.”
“Mhm. ‘M gonna make coffee. Don’t open your present. It’s supposed to be a family-thing-all-together-bullshit.”
The human pushed himself off the couch. He strode to the kitchen, hating the way his body moaned and creaked at the movement. That’s what he gets for spending an hour or three sleeping on the raggedy, old couch. As he put in the coffee grounds, he started thinking more about Christmas. He hadn’t really planned out lunch or dinner. It wasn’t like he could cook a big turkey or meal with the limited and, frankly, limited supplies he had in his cupboards and fridge. He’d make do.
He was really hoping the moth children liked their gifts. Especially Bruno. The coat would look wonderful on him. The polka dots blending in with his beautiful wings and the fur only serving to make him look more handsome, if that was possible. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee broke his thoughts. The pot was done.
“Hey, coffee’s done,” Abbacchio peeked out to the living room to Fugo. He knew the kid liked the way he brewed coffee, somehow. It wasn't like the way he brewed coffee was special in any way but the kid picked himself up and padded over to the kitchen.
Fugo poured himself a cup and sniffed it. He sighed and then added an obnoxious amount of creamer and sugar. Kid’s sweet tooth was outrageous. “What did you get the others?”
“God, you’re nosy. Dunno if you’ll snitch, so can’t tell you.”
Fugo looked hurt almost. “Really? You’ll think I’ll snitch?”
“Might. Also it’s supposed to be a surprise for everyone.”
“Ugh.”
The two drank their respective coffees together in the kitchen. Fugo was more absorbed with looking through the glass to the fat snowflakes falling from the sky. He remembers the seasons where it was especially harsh and their shelter wasn’t built for the winter. It prompted a shiver just thinking about it. Bruno tried his best to keep them safe, but that didn’t stop the nagging cold from gnawing on their skin. But it was different now. Abbacchio was protecting them all from the cold outside. That meant a lot to him, and probably to Bruno, but Fugo would never tell the human that. Sometimes his pride was a little too large.
Meanwhile, Abbacchio was busy skimming through a trashy magazine about all the newest celebrity drama. He didn’t know 75% of the names or faces, but he still continued to read.
In the short time of brewing the coffee, footsteps creaked down the stairs. Down walked Bruno. Giorno was at his side, clearly tired if the way he was rubbing his eyes and yawning was any indication. Bruno looked as good as ever, with his soft hair and large wings swaying lightly at his side.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
Bruno looked to the pot of coffee and then to Fugo. He scrunched up his nose. He never did approve of Fugo drinking caffeine, nor any of his children, but it wasn’t like he could really stop him when Fugo was usually the earliest riser.
“It’s ‘Christmas’ today,” Fugo said.
Bruno’s eyes lit up. “It is, isn’t it?”
Abbacchio finished his cup of coffee and set it down in the sink for later washing. “Can you wake up all the kids?”
“Why?” Bruno asked, intrigued. He knew Abbacchio didn’t like dealing with the usual hyper moth children early in the morning. Especially in the morning.
“Tradition for Christmas. Got them shit.”
“...gifts?”
Abbacchio nodded. Bruno looked taken aback, but nonetheless, happy. “Of course.”
Bruno gave a soft pat to Giorno’s hair and walked up the stairs, a trail of fine dust following him all the way. The albino moth trailed over to Giorno, picked him up, and placed him on one of the chairs at the island. Fugo was always a tad bit overprotective of Giorno. Despite knowing Abbacchio would never do any harm to him nor Giorno, he still didn’t trust the two of them in a room together.
In only four minutes, more pattering of footsteps walked down the stairs. Narancia almost tripped down the steps going so fast and Mista’s were slow and sluggish. Even though Narancia usually woke up and came downstairs in the afternoon, he seemed all too excited.
“I heard you got us presents!” He yelled. His voice was much too loud for the time of morning it was.
“Did Bruno bribe you with the presents to get you out of bed?”
Narancia nodded and scanned the room. His eyes locked on and before he could take another step, Abbacchio’s voice resounded. “God, wait a minute, won’t you?”
Narancia rolled his eyes dramatically but stayed locked in place. Abbacchio stretched out his body. He walked out to the living room and by the sad and dim tree. “C’mon.”
“Yay!”
The rest of the moths followed after Abbacchio. They all looked very excited at the promise of presents, especially after seeing each one labeled after their names. Abbacchio was starting to get second thoughts if his presents were correctly chosen and if they would even like them. It was a little to late for those thoughts as every sat down by the tree, in a skewed sort of semicircle. Bruno sat on the couch, a low chirping sound echoing through the house. Abbacchio sat next to him on the couch.
“Alright, who wants to go first?” The human asked. Narancia nearly bounced up, his wings flapping excitedly. “Oh! Fugo, you can go first,” Abbacchio said, enjoying the way Narancia whined and plopped down.
Fugo nodded, reaching for his present. He looked hesitant in a sense. His eyes locked onto Abbacchio, seemingly scanning for permission. Abbacchio nodded. He took the present in his hands and observed the poor wrapping job before tearing open the paper. Everyone looked curiously as he took out the present from the paper.
Abbacchio felt a surge of pride as the kid’s mouth opened and he smiled. In his hands held several books, different genres and such. “Thank you, Abbacchio,” he graciously said, holding the books firmly as if he was scared they’d be taken away. “I ran out of books to read two days ago. Thank you.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome.”
Mista grabbed his present before anyone said anything. “I’m going next,” he declared and tore open the paper. He gasped as the ammo package fell out, with the hat next to it. “Oh, shit!”
“Language,” Bruno scolded
Mista grabbed the hat and the ammo and held it up to Bruno. “Look! A new hat and some ammo!”
“I see.”
“Sick, thanks, Abba.”
Abbacchio hummed. Mista placed the hat on with a smile. His sewing job had been pretty good as the kid’s antenna peeked through the the top, as they were meant to.
“I’m next!” Narancia screamed, securing his place in present opening. His package was big and he seemed very pleased with that fact. His hands snatched the present. Without even bothering to spend a single care with the paper, he tore it open. Narancia scrambled for the blanket, seeming momentarily captivated with the softness and warmth. “Hell yeah!” He yelled. The boy frantically searched for anything else in the paper and grabbed out the sheathed knife. He took it out of the sheath instantly, holding the blade up for everyone to see.
“Be careful with that thing! I didn’t buy it for you to fuck around with, kid.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Still, thanks!”
“You bought him a...knife?” Bruno said, exasperated.
Abbacchio scoffed. “No, I bought him socks.” Bruno did not find this amusing. “Ugh, yeah, I got him a knife. For safety. I mean, he spends the most time outside, don’t want him getting hurt without protection and shit.”
This looked like it qualmed zero of Bruno’s worries.
“Look, I can take it away if anything happens. Knife privileges can be revoked. I’ll teach him knife safety and how to use it, alright?”
“...fine.”
Everyone was busy with their own presents it seemed. Fugo skimming the descriptions of the novels, Narancia still looking at the knife, Mista running his hands through the blanket and looking at the various bullets. Giorno was left and the kid was literally bouncing in delight.
“Open it,” Bruno softly said. Giorno obliged, his small hands doing his best to open the paper.
He gasped upon seeing the stuffed animals. The ladybug and the frog were instantly in his grasp. He held them as close to his body as possible, snuggling up to them and chirping loudly.
Bruno seemed pleased with seeing all his children being happy.
“We’re not done,” Abbacchio said, pointing to the last wrapped gift under the sad excuse for a tree.
“Is that...mine?”
“Yeah.”
Bruno sighed. “You didn’t need to get me anything, really.”
“Really, I did.”
Bruno rolled his eyes and stood. He kneeled by the tree and picked up the last gift, holding it up in his hands before walking back to the couch. He looked up at Abbacchio before opening it. He pulled out the large folded coat and gasped. “Oh my god.”
The human laughed at his reaction. “I assume you like it?”
“I love it,” Bruno said in a thankful tone. He was still chirping. His eyes crinkled at the edges from how wide he was smiling. “Thank you so much, Leone. Seriously, I love this.” He engulfed Abbacchio in a hug, which in turn, made the human glow bright red.
“It was nothing, really.”
“You didn’t need to get us anything. We are fine with just staying here. This is enough.”
Abbacchio scoffed. “Yeah, but I’d feel guilty if I didn’t. Technically, you are my family, in a sense at least, so gotta follow through the Christmas tradition.”
“Thank you, Abba!” Narancia said, and then everyone followed with their own variation of thanks.
He smiled, feeling the soft and warm feelings bubble inside him. This Christmas was certainly better than the previous ones. “Merry Christmas.”
--------
A couple hours passed with relative ease. Abbacchio busied himself in the kitchen with making some cookies and setting out some cheese and crackers to munch on.
“--and then it was revealed that the whole operation was a farce and that it was a secret operation to betray him in the end and he wasn’t aware of that but he still manages to--” Fugo was rudely interrupted through his rant.
“Why don’t you tell Bruno this? I’m a little busy, Fugo,” Abbacchio grumbled. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to an hour rant of Fugo’s summary of the book he was already halfway through reading.
Fugo rolled his eyes, like the answer he was giving was obvious. “Bruno is out.”
“Out?”
“He left a little bit ago. You were too busy making precise cheese and meat cuts to notice.”
Abbacchio furrowed his brow. “Is-Is he okay? Why did he leave?”
“Of course he’s okay. He’s probably get--”
Narancia was the one to interrupt this time. “--When are the cookies gonna be done?! I’m starving, Abba.”
“They will be done when I say they are done. This is the fourth time you’ve asked me this, Narancia.”
Mista’s head shot up at the mention of the ‘forbidden number’. Almost sensing Mista’s adverse reaction, Narancia asked again. Abbacchio sighed, thankfully putting to rest the tangent about the ‘forbidden number’ Mista was going to go on.
Abbacchio zoned out the kids as he continued to put together snacks and such for the late lunch and dinner time they were going to have. A loud dragging noise broke his serene and quiet zone. It sounded like someone was holing something big on his front porch. Before he could even get the chance to look out the window, the door swung open. In walked Bruno. Who was dragging a dead stag by it’s antlers. Into the house.
It’s throat looked to be bitten into and was leaking blood all over his hardwood floor.
“What the fuck?!” Abbacchio screeched. “Oh my god, Bruno, what? Why?”
Bruno smiled brightly, as if he wasn’t dragging a dead, bloodied animal into the house. “This day is a celebration! This is the feast!”
“Bruno, I fucking made food for dinner already. Oh my god,” he watched as the pool of blood continued to grow. “How am I supposed to get blood out of hardwood?”
“Ugh,” the moth rolled his eyes dramatically, acting like he was bothering. “I’ll take it outside and me and the kids can eat it.”
“Yes,” Abbacchio sighed heavily. “Take it outside. Christ, whatever, I’ll cut it and cook it. You’re damn lucky my dad taught me how to cut and cook game meat.”
“Yay!!” Narancia screamed from behind, looking very happy at the prospect of eating the cooked stag. Abbacchio was less than pleased as Bruno dragged out the animal again, smearing it’s blood literally everywhere. That was going to be an absolute bitch to clean out later. Keyword: later.
--------
The hours blended into each other as the night progressed. Cutting the meat in the freezing snow was less than savory but at least it turned out pretty well. He hadn’t cooked meat in a while, but it actually was tasty, if the way Mista and Narancia tore into it like savages was any indication. It was nostalgic in a sense. It reminded Abbacchio of simpler times with his father. They had filled up on cookies, meats like sausages, cheese and crackers. Suffice to say, everyone was pretty full after the meat.
Giorno had crashed on the couch next to Mista. The older moth was snoring and drooling a little on the pillow. Fugo was upstairs reading his new books, no doubt already finished with one of the novels by now. Narancia had gone upstairs to take a ‘power nap’ as he listed it as. The nap in question was nearing an hour and a half.
Which left Bruno and Abbacchio, who were getting slightly tipsy off a couple glasses of wine. Abbacchio had knocked out the bottle and glasses earlier. They had both had a little too many glasses that they leisurely sipped on through the night and now it was really starting to hit them. Abbacchio knew that he was drunk when some smooth jazz music started to play through the radio while he was cleaning the dishes and he started slightly dancing. Which, in turn, had Bruno come up next to him and join him in the awkward dancing.
It was a cute sight. Drunkenly dancing in the dim lights while the storm outside roared. The calming smell of pine wafted through the room from the candle. Happy smiles graced both of their faces.
The dishes were quickly ignored as both Bruno and Abbacchio sloppily danced together to the low volume music playing through the radio’s speakers. It was actually Abbacchio who grabbed onto Bruno’s hand and led him dancing. The dance was a mix of slow, intimate dancing and a mix of whatever else. They pranced around the kitchen, giggling and making small talk all the way.
At some point, they ended up near the front door, their strange mix of dancing quickly turning into a more gentle and more focused slow dance.
“Mistletoe,” Abbacchio noted.
Bruno smiled against the man’s shoulder. “What about it?”
“You’re supposed to kiss someone when you are under it.”
“Oh?” Bruno lifted his head off the human’s shoulder and faced Abbacchio head on.
“Yeah.”
“Well,” the moth sighed happily. “We better keep up with the tradition, hmm?”
Bruno leaned in for a kiss, copying exactly what Abbacchio was doing. When their lips touched, all was right. It felt like it was just meant. Like everything was perfect in the moment. The sheer amount of love coming off from the lip lock was insurmountable. The warmth radiating off both of them was just the cherry on top.
Everything was perfect...until Abbacchio felt a long, spindly appendage hit the back of his throat. Immediately, Abbacchio pulled back, a gag wrenching itself from his body.
“Fuck!” He yelled. A coughing fit started deep in his chest. Bruno watched him confused all the while. “What was that?!”
“That was a kiss.”
Abbacchio coughed and groaned at the lack of understanding. His chest hurt from the amount of force from the coughs. “No! What was the thing? In my throat?”
“That was a kiss,” Bruno repeated, clearly confused. “That’s how they do it on the television. With the tongue.”
“Tongue?” He was almost afraid to ask.
Bruno opened his mouth which forth a long, thin tongue spilled out. It fell to about his collarbone and Abbacchio felt sick. That touched his throat? Bruno thought that was supposed to be incorporated into a kiss.
His delightful intoxication slipped from him as the mortification set in. “Kisses are not supposed to be like that. Television is fake, Bruno.”
“How was I supposed to know?”
Abbacchio wrapped his hand around Bruno’s head and gave him a real kiss, one without any tongue or other weird quirks. Just a chaste kiss that lasted for a few fleeting seconds before pulling away. Both of their faces were more flushed than what the wine had done to them.
“That’s a real kiss.”
Bruno’s pupils were blown wide, the blue swallowed by the black iris and sclera. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Abbacchio chuckled.
Bruno stepped closer to Abbacchio. The music cut off, the silence seeming beyond tender. “Can we do that again?”
“Oh, totally.”
--------
“Shut up dumbass! You’re gonna wake ‘em!” A hushed voice whisper-yelled.
Another voice yelled angrily. “No! You shut up!”
Both kids were taking a photo of the ‘couple’ on the couch. Sometime through the night, Mista and Giorno left for their rooms and Abbacchio and Bruno crashed on the couch. Surprisingly, Abbacchio seemed to be the one who was laying on top of Bruno. There was a line of drool from his mouth onto Bruno’s neck fluff but Bruno didn’t seem to mind--he was equally as passed out.
The flash went off and the moment of time was captured on the small device. Abbacchio started to slur at the bright, flashing light that went off and even through the veil of sleep and slight hangover, he yelled. “Give me that fucking phone!”
“You’ll have to catch me first, loser!” Mista laughed at him, snatching the phone and shoving it into his breast pocket, running out the door at record speed. Abbacchio was barely off Bruno before he face-planted on the carpet.
If the last few days were long and winding, this one would be the same.