Work Text:
On February 14th, Leone had a strict routine.
Usually Bruno always rose before the sun even if he went to bed in the middle of the night. He just was an early riser like that, very unlike Leone, who couldn’t even get out of bed after ten hours of sleep.
Today was the only exception. It’s been years since he slept through this particular night, which wasn’t odd per se. Leone was used to an irregular sleeping pattern, caused by his own tangled thoughts and the need to drown them out with cigarettes on the balcony. At least Bruno didn’t have to carry him to bed anymore when he had passed out there, with half a bottle of wine still in his hands and ash falling onto his beloved leather coat, burning ugly marks into the fabric. Nowadays on these sleepless nights, he just accepted his fate and made himself one cup of tea after another upon hours of reflecting his faults and guilty feelings in the chilly italian night air. Eventually, he always ended up falling asleep.
Just not on February 14th. Leone needed this quiet night for himself, to make sure he didn’t forget. To remember how she talked, how she gestured so animatedly that she accidentally brushed her tea mug off the table more than one time. How she had wandered through their garden and the fields behind it, telling him more facts about flowers and their meanings than he had ever cared for. Leone knew that she knew that he didn’t really listen to her ramblings, but it didn’t lessen her enthusiasm for a second. She had always said it made her happy that he was willing to spend time with her even if he didn’t care about the topic of their conversations. Their parents were overseas on business trips more often than not and they only had each other. Even back then, Leone had been a loner, content without any friends. He wouldn’t have had time for them anyway, too busy caring for his little sister.
Except the one time he failed.
A hand squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, bringing him back to the present. He was shivering, curled into himself on the balcony’s lounge sofa with silent tears running down his face.
The hand left, leaving a cold space that Leone ached for to be filled with warmth again. Just a few seconds later, Bruno returned with a thick blanket and draped it over his shoulders, but didn’t seat himself next to him. Instead, he reached out for him with the hopeful expression that Leone learned to love and cling to. “Come with me, tesoro mio.”
“I won’t sleep,” Leone grumbled.
“Not to bed.” Bruno shook his head softly, making his loose hair swing along with the movement. “We’re driving to Potenza.”
A moment passed in which Leone just stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. It’s in the middle of the night and you have a meeting at nine.”
“So?” Even if Leone narrowed his eyebrows at him, Bruno knew that he internally perked up at his offer. “Giorno can take care of that, it’s not a matter I need to attend personally.”
When Leone sighed deeply, Bruno knew he had won him over. “At least he’s being useful for once," he growled.
“Don’t badmouth him,” Bruno replied and helped him up. Leone’s hands were icy and tense, but nobody of them mentioned it.
“Whatever.”
Bruno went inside to get their coats and something to drink, as well as a bouquet of flowers he had prepared in advance. While he locked the door he also typed a quick text message for Giorno and the others to make sure they wouldn’t think they got kidnapped.
The road was quiet, as to be expected at two a.m. on a weeknight. The local radio station played some new pop song they both disliked, so Bruno changed it to his personal music playlist.
Leone’s eyes skipped through the songs, then to his boyfriend. “I never knew you listened to The Clash.”
Bruno chuckled. “I used to back when I got this car.”
“Do you mind?”
Surprised, he looked over to him at the question, but Leone’s gaze was pinned on his lap, hands scrubbing at nonexistent stains on his pants.
“Of course not, go ahead,” Bruno replied and changed lanes, smiling softly. If he were here, Mista would have commented on the fact he used the indicator while there was not a single car in sight.
One day is fine and next is black
So if you want me off your back
Well come on an' let me know
Should I Stay or should I go?
Almost two hours and several The Clash songs later, Bruno drove onto a dirt road just on the outskirts of Potenza. They followed it until an old oak tree indicated the end of the road, where a lonely house stood. Broken windows and vines that coated half of the stone walls showed that it has been quite some time since anybody had lived here. What once had been a garden was now overgrown with weeds and flowers from the nearby field.
Bruno stopped the car under the tree and they stepped out of it wordlessly. Unsure whether he wanted his company, Bruno just grabbed the bouquet and offered it to Leone after he walked round the car to him.
“Purple hyacinths?”, Leone asked, taking the flowers with delicate care. Bruno pretended he didn’t see his hands shake around the stems.
“You told me once she loved them.”
“I didn’t think you would remember such an unimportant detail.”
“Leone,” Bruno whispered and covered his hands in his own, effectively making him really look at him for the first time today. “Nothing that matters to you will ever be irrelevant to me.”
There was a moment of silence, only the leaves rustling in the tree above them that could be heard, before Leone choked back a sob and laughed, wetly, “that’s so fucking gay, Bruno.”
“What a coincidence.” He smiled and leaned over to give his boyfriend a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Now c’mon, go surprise her with them. I’m quite certain she loves them.”
Leone nodded, and after Bruno squeezed his hands one more time, he watched how his boyfriend left to enter the property and walked over to one side of the garden, where a young oak’s branches swayed just so slightly in the breeze. Leone kneeled in front of it, carefully plucking the moss from the wooden cross that had been put into the ground, a few words carved into the surface.
Valentina Abbacchio
14.02.1982 - 13.02.1999
Leone laid down the hyacinths right beneath it, his voice full of love although cracking when he finally spoke. "You would have turned nineteen today, Valentina." He lowered his head and long white - strands of hair fell into his face. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. Though I'm sure you would have liked to see that I actually have a job I like and am barely ever alone." Leone smiled. "You would have loved my boyfriend. For fucks sake, you'd be best friends with that shithead Giorno Giovanna too. You two are much too alike for your own good." Leone laughed drily. "Bruno may have brought these flowers, but I just know he asked Giorno to make these. This once, I'll let it slide." Leone stood up again, checking over his shoulder if Bruno was still there with him (which of course, he was, how could it have been any other way). Barely noticeably, Leone smiled and turned back to the grave. "I guess I'll stop annoying you with my sappy stories now. Happy Birthday, Valentina."