Work Text:
Bruno sat on a marble bench near the entrance of the cemetary, smoking a cigarette, waiting for Abbacchio. He tried to blow rings with the smoke and failing as The Cure played on his Sony Walkman. A familiar sputter of a crappy engine was heard over his music, he took off his walkman and waved in the direction of the noise. Behind the wheel was a grouchy looking boy with a lilac purple bat's nest, thick purple eyeliner, and overlined purple lips to match. This was all on top of a plaster white face that went down to his neck. He waved back at Bruno on the bench, in all his black-clad leather glory. They met halfway at the gate, between the bench and parking lot.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"You got the key to the mausoleum?"
Bruno pulled a nondescript brass key from his pocket.
"Swiped it from the front desk."
"With that killer charm, I suppose?"
Bruno smirked and just hummed in response.
"Let's go."
Bruno took Abbacchio's hand and skillfully unplugged the headset from his walkman with his free hand, letting the music play out loud.
"Who's got you listening to that new Faith crap? The Cure's previous albums are like, way better."
Abbacchio pulled Bruno closer to his body, his hand going from Bruno's hand to his waist.
"Mista. He's way into punk music and even he loves this album."
"Oh yeah, 'cuz Mista has the best taste," Said Abbacchio, smirking.
Bruno shook his head in disaproval.
"We're here shithead."
Bruno unlocked the ornate wooden door to the mausoleum. It was grand and dusty, age showing in the form of cobwebs and thick layers of dust on everything. Everything except two circles on the floor where the couple always sat. The people in the mausoleum where some shitty rich high society dicks who owned slaves and many plantations down south, so Bruno and Abbacchio felt no remorse smoking and drinking everything under the sun and making out in here. It was the dead of night, barely any moonlight shone through the tiny dirty window of the place. The door shut behind them, darkness.
"Shit, I forgot my bag in the car..." Piped Abbacchio.
Bruno pawed in the dark for his boyfriend's body.
"Are you serious? You know how hard it's gonna be to find a keyhole in the pitch black dark?"
"Just kidding...!!" Abbacchio appeared from behind him with a flashlight held below his chin and a sneer across his face. Bruno flinched and whipped around, pushing Abbacchio in a teasing manor.
"This is my favorite song on the album." Bruno said as Abbacchio arranged the three flashlights around them.
He went to light a cigarette, hastily searching his many pockets. He gave up his searched and nudged Bruno with his elbow. The two leaned in close, the flame warming their faces. Still close as ever, Abbacchio took a drag and blew it in Bruno's face before pulling his face in for a kiss. Both of their mouths were bitter from the cigarettes but impossibly warm, warmer than the flame on their faces just moments ago. The Cure faded out of their ears and was replaced by soft moans and sighs of the other.