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Bruno tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.
The papers in front of him had his world crashing down around him and he couldn’t even react. He had to stay neutral.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” The words burned in Bruno’s throat.
“I am, yes.” Abbacchio sounded sure.
He wanted to burn the papers—rip them in half, anything else but sign them.
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Bruno had to keep reminding himself to breathe. His heart burned. “Can I ask why?”
Abbacchio looked down. He hadn’t made eye contact with Bruno yet. “I feel stuck—like I’m not going anywhere. I know I can’t rise through the ranks of Passione, but I want to do more. Being a bodyguard isn’t how I want to spend the rest of my time.”
Bruno prided his skill on reading Abbacchio. After spending so much time together, he could tell what was going on in the other’s head. Tonight, Abbacchio was almost unreadable. Even his usual easy-to-read eyes hid their secrets. There was only one emotion that Bruno had been able to pick up on: certainty.
He was leaving.
Abbacchio and Bruno had gone to a movie last night and spent half the night making silly jokes. They laughed until the early morning, only going to bed because they had work to do later that day. There had been no signs of this change last night. Bruno didn’t understand. He didn’t understand.
He pushed down the feelings that threatened to pour out. If this is what Abbacchio wanted, then Bruno would support him. No matter how much it hurt or how he felt, Abbacchio was his best friend, and he would support him. Even if every part of Bruno wanted to beg Abbacchio not to go.
“Okay,” his voice was weak, almost enough to show what he was trying not to feel. He cleared his throat and balled his fists. He could feel his nails biting in the palm of his hand. “You know this is final and it’s very unlikely that you can transfer back if you don’t like it.”
“I’m aware.” Abbacchio’s voice lacked his usual relaxed tone he had when he was around Bruno. Even the bored, biting tone was missing.
Bruno could only nod, afraid of what he’d say if he opened his mouth. Numbly, he signs the paper, agreeing to allow Abbacchio to move to another team. Once signed, he set the pen on the desk and hid his hands underneath it. They were shaking and he could feel where his nails had pierced his skin, Bruno wouldn’t let Abbacchio see that.
“I will send this to Polpo first thing in the morning.”
There was a pause. “Thank you.”
Bruno did his best to smile. “I will do what I can to help you be happy, Abbacchio. Even if that means letting you leave.”
Abbacchio nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something but decided at the last minute not to. He turned and left Bruno’s office.
When the door closed, Bruno slumped in his seat. He looked at his palm and the cuts that matched the shape of his nails. They were deep enough to bleed. A shaky breath escaped as he did to hold in the tears that burned his eyes.
He was losing his best friend. Once Abbacchio left, there was a chance Bruno would never see him again. The idea made him feel alone, so alone. A feeling he hadn’t felt since forming his team.
To add to his conflicted heart, Bruno had to keep his true feelings towards Abbacchio locked deep inside. His feelings were not Abbacchio’s problem. Even though he was leaving, Bruno would not burden him with that knowledge. Bruno would ignore the pangs in his chest and smile as he helped carry boxes out of the villa.
Bruno stared at the papers; he hadn’t read everything on them yet. Abbacchio stated he wanted more detective-type work. That didn’t surprise Bruno, he listened to Abbacchio talk about missing the thrill of putting clues together for hours. At least he was going to a place where he’d be happy.
The papers had many questions asking as to why the person wanted to be transferred. Where had Abbacchio found this?
‘Is there anything else you would like to add?’
It was the last question on the paper. It looked like it had been rewritten many times.
‘Bucciarati is a strong, caring leader. Anyone should be honored to work for him.’
That’s what Abbacchio had written.
This was just enough to break Bruno. A tear finally slid down his face.
Bruno quickly wiped the tear away and put the papers in a safe folder. With them safely stored, Bruno left his office in search of anything to ease the pain.
Bruno definitely wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d drank too much wine. It was his usual go-to, something he’d picked up from Abbacchio, but now it made him think too much. He’d drawn himself a bath to try and relax, even having candles, but it didn’t work. His mind kept going and so he continued to drink.
Thinking a walk would clear his mind, Bruno left his room and wandered through the villa. He found himself stumbling towards a door that didn’t lead to his room. He walked to this room many times before, but tonight was different. This could be the last time he walked to this one before Abbacchio left.
He attempted to lean on the door, to try and hear the person inside, but it hadn’t but shut all the way. Bruno stumbled into the mostly packed-up room.
Abbacchio sat on his bed and looked up the moment the door swung open.
“Bucciarati?”
A purple light was the only thing lighting the room and in Bruno’s current state, he could barely see. He saw a blur and suddenly a hand was on his shoulder.
“Bucciarati, are you alright?” Abbacchio sounded concerned.
“Abbacchio,” Bruno slurred. He loved that name; it was so nice.
“What—” Abbacchio sniffed. “Are you drunk?”
Bruno tightened his hand around the bottle of wine in his hand. “I may have drank a little bit…”
That was a lie, he was almost done with his second bottle.
“Why? You never drink on a work night.”
“Dunno.” Bruno looked around the room, it looked wrong without Abbacchio’s things.
With a sigh, Abbacchio gently pulled Bruno to his bed and sat him down. “Something’s wrong,” he stated. “You can tell me anything, you know that right?”
“Can I?” Bruno responded harsher than he meant to. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving.”
There was a long pause. “Is that what this is about? Me leaving?”
Bruno shrugged and took another drink. “Could be. Not that it matters, you picked what you wanted.”
“I picked what I had to.”
Bruno stared at the bottle in his hand, swaying slightly on the bed. He wanted to lean on Abbacchio. “Do you hate me that much?”
“Hate you?” Abbacchio sounded appalled by the idea. “Why would I hate you?”
“Because you’re leaving me.” If Bruno was sober, he would have regretted those words the moment they came out. He took another drink.
“Leaving you? You make it sound—do you think this was an easy decision for me?”
Bruno looked up at Abbacchio, his eyes wet with tears about to fall. “Yes. You walked in with those papers and said you wanted to go.” He paused as terrible thought surfaced. “Is that why you wanted to go out last night? To make me say yes?”
Abbacchio looked pained. “What—no! Bucciarati, I like being with you. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
“Then why are you going away?”
“I—” Abbacchio bit his lip like he was holding something back. “I can’t say.”
“You’re my best friend, Abbacchio,” he sniffled as a tear ran down his cheek. “What am I going to do when you’re gone?”
A sharp inhale came from Abbacchio. It wasn’t hard for him to pull the almost spilling wine bottle from Bruno’s hands. He set the bottle on the table by his bed and slowly reached out and caressed Bruno’s face, wiping away the tear. Bruno could feel how much Abbacchio’s hands were shaking.
The capo leaned into the touch. Abbacchio’s hands were warm, and Bruno had dreamed about a moment like this for years. Abbacchio didn’t pull his hand away.
“You’re the most important person to me, Abbacchio. Without you by my side my life will feel empty…alone.”
“You’ll be okay,” Abbacchio’s voice was strained. “You always are.”
“No, you don’t understand!” Bruno pulled away from Abbacchio’s touch as tear after tear streamed down his face. “There will be no other you, I will never love someone like I love you—” A sob made Bruno pause as he registered what he’d said. “My heart will hurt forever without you by my side.”
Bruno met Abbacchio’s shocked eyes.
The other took a deep breath and let it out. “Bucciarati, you’re drunk. Let me take you back to your room. You should rest.” His voice showed no sign of having the same feelings.
He doesn’t love you.
The thought echoed through Bruno’s brain, growing louder and louder. He knew it was too good to be true. His heart felt like it was ripping in half, it hurt so much. The sobs took over his body at the realization.
“B—Bucciarati!”
Abbacchio sounded far away and panicked.
Bruno pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself and rocked back and forth. He felt seven again. Alone in his room after his parents told him they were divorcing, crying silently so they wouldn’t hear him.
The bottle of wine was taken from his hands without protest. Warm arms wrapped around him this time. Bruno could feel how much he was shaking in Abbacchio’s arms.
“Breathe Bucciarati, breathe. In and out, nice and slow.”
He tried, he really did, but the fact that this was the only time he’d be in Abbacchio’s arms hit him hard. The sobs didn’t stop.
“Please, Bucciarati. Please don’t cry.” Abbacchio was desperate. He started petting Bruno’s head to try and ease him.
Bruno looked up at Abbacchio who stared at him with concerned eyes. Those beautiful heterochromatic eyes. Bruno brushed his hand against Abbacchio’s face. The concern only grew. Bruno would regret what he was about to do in the morning if he remembered, but he had to know at least once how Abbacchio’s lips felt.
He pushed his lips to meet Abbacchio’s, they were warm. Bruno knew his own must have tasted like tears. Still, it was the greatest feeling. He was in bliss.
Bruno held their lips together for a few moments, but when Abbacchio made no move to kiss him back, he started to pull away. He’d embarrassed himself enough for the night.
One of Abbacchio’s hands stopped this, slipping into Bruno’s hair, and holding their lips together.
He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming, but he didn’t care. He held Abbacchio’s face in his hands. Bruno put everything into the kiss he could. If this was the only chance to prove to Abbacchio what he truly meant to Bruno, then he would make it count.
It was everything that Bruno imagined it would be. Abbacchio’s lips were soft and warm, they had a hint of wine. The longer that Abbacchio held on, the farther Bruno fell into everything that was him. How his hand brushed against Bruno’s hand that still caressed Abbacchio’s face, the leftover cologne smell, and how warm he was.
Strangely enough, Bruno pulled away first, but it was so he could say, “Please don’t go, I need you,” before passing out in Abbacchio’s arms.
Leone held his passed-out friend in his arms, still trying to process everything. His lips were buzzing, and he could have sworn Bucciarati’s were still pressed against his. If his capo wasn’t passed out in his lap, Leone would have thought he dreamt the whole thing.
He’d panicked when Bucciarati had first passed out, but the slow rise and fall of his chest made Leone relax. Bucciarati had passed out after telling Leone how he felt…
It left him feeling conflicted. He had no doubt that Bucciarati spoke his true feelings, but how long had he been hiding them? Did he just realize, or had they been around longer? Would Bucciarati have told him if he was sober? Was Bucciarati going to let him walk out of his life without ever telling him?
The thoughts plagued him and made him feel uneasy. Did he stay now? He and Bucciarati shared the same feelings for each other, but did Bucciarati want to follow through on them? He’d known his capo long enough, Bucciarati would shove his feelings down if he thought it best. Leone couldn’t stay if he knew his capo had feelings for him but would never show them again.
“What do I do with you?” he whispered to his best friend.
With a sigh, Leone grabbed the package of makeup wipes beside him. Gently, he used the wipe to clean the tear stains off Bucciarati’s face. Leone never thought he would be the reason Bucciarati cried. He’d only seen it a handful of times before. It made his heart hurt.
Leone pushed some of Bucciarati’s hair behind his ear. It was soft. He wanted to touch it more, but he restrained himself. He needed to talk with Bucciarati before he started assuming things.
This would have been so much easier if Bucciarati had said something in his office earlier. He didn’t want to leave Bucciarati, the man he looked up to most, his savior. But Leone couldn’t hide his feelings or the pain of seeing others flirt with Bucciarati. He had no right to be jealous, but he was always behind Bucciarati glaring at anyone that attempted to approach.
The jealously was going to drive him to something stupid and he didn’t want Bucciarati to clean up after him again. The farther he went, the better it would be for Bucciarati. Leone knew he would forever feel this way, distance would never change how he felt.
He cursed himself for not picking up Bucciarati’s feelings earlier. His detective skills had failed him, but it was probably because of how much in denial he was. He had overthought all the times he may have thought Bucciarati was flirting with him or blushed. He didn’t think there was any way that the Bruno Bucciarati felt the same.
Bucciarati moved in his sleep and grabbed Leone’s hand, pulling it to his face. He rested against it and let out a pleased sigh. Leone wasn’t even surprised that Bucciarati liked to snuggle things.
He stayed like that for a while, letting Bucciarati snuggle his hand.
Standing up was the last thing Leone wanted to do, but he knew his capo was going to need some water in the morning…and his arm had fallen asleep. Carefully, Leone pulled himself free—
“No…go…” Bucciarati mumbled in his sleep. Weakly he reached out to find Leone’s hand again. “Le…one…”
He stared at the sleeping capo in awe. Even though he was asleep, Bucciarati saying his first name made him feel warm. He liked how close he felt to Bucciarati in that moment.
How could he leave Bucciarati now? The thought was crazy. He was astounded that he believed the fact that he believed he could leave and never return and beg Bucciarati to take him back.
Leone knew his decision right then and there, but he was going to make sure Bucciarati came clean about what had happened here tonight.
Before heading downstairs, Leone adjusted Bucciarati so that he was under the covers. He kissed the mess of black hair and didn’t miss the smile on Bucciarati’s face.
“Sleep well, Bruno.”
Bruno’s head pounded before he had a chance to open his eyes. Even moving seemed to make the pounding worse. His mind felt blurry on top of the pain. Slowly, he opened his eyes to a dark room. After a moment he realized he wasn’t in his bedroom or his bed.
He was in Abbacchio’s bed.
Bruno bolted up and glanced around quickly. He regretted it instantly. He almost threw up at the sudden dizziness. When his stomach calmed, he took in his surroundings at a much slower pace. Even half-packed, Bruno could tell that this was Abbacchio’s room. He’d spent hours sitting in this room. He was grateful that the shades were pulled down, the darkness helped his headache.
There was one brightness that shone like a beacon. Even in the dark, Abbacchio’s wonderful pale hair glowed. He was sitting on the floor, arms crossed, with his head leaning back on the bed.
Bruno sighed in relief; he hadn’t done anything too egregious at face value. It also eased his mind that he was fully clothed as was Abbacchio. He did wonder what he’d done to find himself in Abbacchio’s room.
On the table next to him was a note.
“Drink, eat, and take the medicine -Abbacchio”
It was very straight to the point. There was a glass of water, some bread, and a bottle of painkillers. Abbacchio remembered that Bruno’s stomach was easily upset if he didn’t eat before taking medicine.
He looked endearingly at the note before following the instructions. He drained the glass of water and set it back on the table and laid back down on the bed.
Bruno laid there for a while waiting for the medicine to kick in.
It helped the pounding in his head and left room for some other thoughts: like how he ended up in Abbacchio’s bed. The last thing he remembered was feeling awful about Abbacchio leaving so he grabbed a bottle of wine and ran a hot bath.
He felt like he also remembered crying, but he wasn’t sure if that was a dream or not. His eyes felt like he might have.
He rolled onto his side and looked at his sleeping friend. Abbacchio looked so peaceful in his sleep. If only he was up on the bed with Bruno instead of on the floor.
Bruno took a deep breath in and let it out while attempting to push the thought far away. He caught a whiff of the pillow he was laying on; it smelled just like Abbacchio. Bruno buried his face in it and took a deep breath. He sighed, reveling in the smell before realizing this was going to be the only time he’d be wrapped in Abbacchio’s sheets.
With that sad thought, he slid out of the bed. He’d obviously inconvenienced Abbacchio long enough if the other had let Bruno sleep in his bed. He planned to sneak out and leave his friend to rest, but fate had other plans.
Bruno kicked the bottle, and it made a loud noise as it hit the wooden floor. It must have been the one he was drinking last night.
Abbacchio’s eyes shot open and looked ready to fight until his eyes settled on Bruno. He relaxed instantly but then tensed again. He observed Bruno’s position.
“Leaving already?” His voice was heavy with sleep.
Bruno fought the urge to react to the deep voice. “I figured I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
“How so?”
Abbacchio was clearly testing Bruno’s memory. “I’m sure that you would rather sleep in your bed, the floor can’t be too comfy.”
“I’ve slept on worse.”
Bruno played with the end of his shirt. Abbacchio wasn’t being very helpful. “So, do you know how I ended up here last night?”
Abbacchio clenched his fist and looked away. “You don’t remember anything?” He sounded disappointed.
“I don’t…did I do something?”
The other remained quiet for a long time before joining Bruno on the bed. “You really remember nothing from last night, nothing at all?”
“I feel like I remember crying…but that’s all.”
Abbacchio chewed on his lip. “Bucciarati…I’m going to ask you something, so please don’t be mad at me.”
“Okay, I trust you.”
Nothing happened for a moment before Abbacchio grabbed Bruno’s face and kissed him. His hands were shaking as they held Bruno.
The whole world seemed to stop except for them. Bruno was surprised for a moment but found himself melting into the kiss almost right away. It was better than any dream, any fantasy that he’d ever had. Abbacchio’s lips almost felt familiar, but there was no way that could be.
It was only a second before Abbacchio pulled away. He dropped his hands and left Bruno hanging.
“That wasn’t a question,” Bruno said in a flustered daze.
“It’s what you did last night.”
“I—”
“After you came in here and said some very interesting things and cried in my arms.”
Bruno’s face burned with embarrassment. What did he say? Why was he crying? “I’m sorry for burdening you and pushing past your personal boundaries.”
“You—Bucciarati you’re an idiot.”
This took him by surprise.
“Are you even going to try and be honest with your feelings?” Abbacchio demanded.
“I don’t know what you mean. I just apologized—”
“That’s not what I mean!” Abbacchio’s voice raised slightly as his frustration grew. He took a deep breath and lowered it again so he wouldn’t wake the rest of the house. “I need to know if what you said last night is true.”
“I don’t know what I said, Abbacchio! How can I tell you if it was true if I don’t know?”
Abbacchio stared at Bruno. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He did. The kiss was a clear indicator. Adding in Abbacchio’s passion for an answer made Bruno almost positive. Bruno licked his lips and prepared himself for what he was about to say. His stomach turned and every part of him felt sweaty. He couldn’t look at his friend.
These feelings…he’d been pushing them down for so long that letting them surface felt wrong. But Abbacchio deserved the truth considering Bruno barged in and kissed and now doesn’t remember it.
“Abbacchio, I—I have feelings for you. R—romantic ones.”
Even to Bruno that sounded awkward. He wasn’t good at handling his emotions if he hadn’t had a chance to plan what he was going to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I?”
Abbacchio scoffed at him. “You say it like you just did.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why?” He sounded desperate.
“I’m your boss, Abbacchio. I’m not naïve, I see how boss and subordinate relationships are viewed. People tend to react negatively. Knowing this organization and where I stand, I know I won’t receive the nasty remarks, you will. I can’t do that to you.” Bruno swallowed and took a breath.
“I don’t care about that. I’ve lived through worse comments than some half-ass attempts to get under my skin.”
“But you shouldn’t have to.”
“There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t have to deal with.”
Bruno sighed. “I was worried…how was I supposed to admit my feelings when there’s a possibility of you feeling obligated to return them? It’s not like we have a normal profession where you wouldn’t feel like your life is on the line if you didn’t accept. I would want us to be genuine”
Abbacchio looked shocked, like he hadn’t considered that.
“You’re also the first person I’ve felt this close to…I was worried if I told you, you would push me away. I couldn’t stand to lose you. I would rather only have you as a friend.”
“So, you decided that letting me go to another team was a better option? Never telling me how you felt even if you’ll never see me again?”
The truth stung him. “I wanted you to be happy…and if that meant leaving my team then I wanted you to go without any burdens.” Bruno swallowed back the rising feeling of tears. “You shouldn’t feel conflicted just because I harbor feelings.”
“I see, guess it’s job first and friends second?”
“No.” Bruno was sure of that. “I would rather you leave with our friendship intact. At least we could look back at our times together without too much sadness.”
“Bucciarati…” Abbacchio trailed off and looked away.
Bruno held his breath. He knew what was going to happen next, so he braced himself. The pain of rejection started to burn through his heart. He’d never regretted drinking more now. He could have avoided this if he’d just been responsible.
“You said something last night before you passed out in my arms,” Abbacchio said.
Bruno mentally chided himself, what other embarrassing things could he have said last night?
“You said, ‘Please don’t go. I need you.’ Do you need me, Bruno?”
His eyes shot up as Abbacchio said his first name, something he’d never heard before. At this point, there wasn’t much reason to deny it. Bruno needed Abbacchio, even if they just remained friends.
Bruno felt exposed laying his feelings out in the open, but he could trust Abbacchio with them. “I do, I need you, Abbacchio. Even if all you can ever offer me is friendship, I need you.”
“Leone, call me Leone.”
“Leone,” he whispered.
Leone moved closer. “I need to tell you something.”
“Yes?” His heart beat loudly in his chest and he wondered if Leone could hear it.
“Bruno, I…” He grabbed Bruno’s hands and held them in his. “I don’t want to leave you, I never wanted to. But the way I felt was starting to get harder to hide. I didn’t think you would ever feel the same, I didn’t think I was worthy of that…but it hurt to be around you and not say anything. So, I decided to leave before these feelings killed me.”
“Leone…” He squeezed the hands that held his. He kissed Leone’s hands.
The other watched with wide eyes, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.
Bruno kept Leone’s hand to his lips. “How long were you thinking about this?”
“Off and on when the nights got bad, but I never planned on following through.”
“Then why…?”
“The other night. After the movie, we just hung out and talked. It was nice, too nice—I almost leaned over to kiss you several times,” Abbacchio’s voice was unsteady as he spoke, and his face turned red. “I knew I was going to slip up if I stayed and I wouldn’t do that to you. I didn’t think about it, I just went to you. But even now I realize that would have been a terrible mistake. I could never leave your side.”
Bruno was scared to speak, to breathe. He didn’t know what to do.
“There was one more thing you said last night.”
He gulped. “What other embarrassing things did I let slip?”
“You said you loved me.”
Bruno’s heart almost exploded out of his chest. “I—”
“It’s okay,” Leone whispered in a calming voice. “That’s for another time.”
Bruno smiled and scooted closer to Leone this time, feeling a bit confident. “So, now what?”
He locked eyes with Leone and bit his lip. He wanted to grab Leone and kiss him until he couldn’t anymore.
Leone must have been thinking the same thing because he whispered, “This,” and grabbed Bruno’s face.
This kiss was much longer than the first one that he remembered. He didn’t want it to end. Leone’s lips were perfect: soft, warm, plump, and his tongue was making quick work of any resolve Bruno had. Bruno was in heaven, or what he suspected heaven to be like.
Bruno ran his hands through Leone’s soft hair, careful of the tangles in it. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He never wanted it to end. Especially when Leone snaked an arm around his waist and pulled them closer.
“Tell me not to go,” Leone begged in-between kisses. “Please.”
Bruno pulled Leone down so they were laying together, lips never breaking apart. How could Bruno resist such a plea? “Please don’t leave me.”
“Anything for you.”
For the first time in a long time, Bruno felt complete.