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Sitting with his eyes closed, Leone Abbacchio tried in vain to stop thinking about his old partner. He probably should have expected that this would happen, considering that the latest mission had taken him over to the turf his old squadron had frequented, but even so… That didn’t mean that he’d been ready for it.
The rest of the team had gone out for food or something, and Bucciarati, knowing a “Leone Episode” when he saw one, had kindly offered to grab Leone some food–a promise mirrored by Fugo and Mista, who joined. But, for some reason, Narancia had insisted on staying back with Leone. So, instead of having some much-needed alone time, he was on babysitting duty.
The universe liked to laugh at him, it seemed.
So, alone the two of them sat, with Leone, yet again, seeing his partner bleed out every time he closed his eyes, and Narancia listening to music with his comically-large jukebox and garish orange headphones. It was loud enough that Abbacchio could hear the sound from across the room–the last thing he needed in his foul mood. So, he got up, moving to the kitchen to grab himself some mint tea.
“Oooh, Abba, could you grab me one too?” The teen’s voice drifted toward him, and he soon saw that Narancia had ditched his headphones to join the tea-making effort.
A huff. “Get it yourself, brat.” Still, Leone grabbed an extra mug.
Narancia grinned. “Thanks!” Then, on second thought: “Actually, I can get it. Don’t worry about it. And yours too.”
That was… strange. Still, not one to complain about someone making tea for him, he dutifully sat at the table. The kettle squealed. Narancia strode over with two mugs of mint tea, and some honey and a teaspoon in tow for each of them. He also brought over a small plate–presumably to put the tea bags on once the drinks had steeped to their liking. As the Ghirga boy set out the beverages, he appeared to be both more calm than normal, yet extremely anxious about something.
“So. I, uh… I heard you had to go to where your old team was earlier today, to collect protection funds.” Narancia sheepishly stared at the darkening surface of his tea. Leone said nothing at his audacious lack of tact, so the teen took that as a sign to continue; which, to be fair to him, wasn’t an incorrect interpretation of Leone’s silence. “I know you don’t usually wanna talk about it, but…”
“I don’t.” This likely came out sharper than intended, since Narancia winced. But, he was in a bad mood.
“I know you don’t. But… Like, ever since you got back, you’ve been getting the way I get when I remember my old friends, or I have to pass through their old turf. And that feeling sucks ass.”
The teen sounded so, so sad, that Leone couldn’t even be angry at him anymore. His expression softened as Narancia went on.
“—So, I was like, ‘Oh, I should stay back with Abba, since I know when I’m alone, I get all pissy. Abba’s shit made it on the news. So, he’s probably gonna be doing wayyyyy worse than just being pissy. He’s gonna be stewing in it and beating himself up.’ So, I, uh.” A gulp. “Anyway.”
Awkwardness lingered on the air. Leone, still processing this entire conversation, had taken the tea bag out of his tea, then, with Narancia tapping his foot and staring sadly at nothing in particular, he knew he had to go over and at least show that he wasn’t angry at the kid. In a swift motion, he took the tea bag out of Naracia’s mug, and a moment later, ruffled the kid’s hair affectionately.
Taken aback, Narancia blinked slowly.
“Thanks, kid.” He moved back to his chair, sitting across the table from the boy. Abbacchio took a long swig of the tea, burning his tongue the slightest bit as he said, “And yeah, that feeling does suck ass.”
Narancia, raising his mug up in a sort of salute, gave the young man a look that glistened with understanding–and also, joy at having been recognized and not rebuffed. “Once we’re done with the tea… I’m gonna sit with you.”
“You say that like it’s a fact.”
“You aren’t saying you won’t. ” A mischievous grin.
Leone shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to find out.” The smallest of smiles tugged at the edges of his mouth as well.
Well, lo and behold, Narancia’s statement had indeed been fact. As he sat on the couch of their den, the teen had practically attached himself to Leone’s arm, clinging to it as if it were a stuffed animal.
As the sound of a movie–looked like The Matrix or some shit that Narancia had chosen purely for the “cool” factor–blared on in the background, Narancia, cutting through the dialog, remarked, “...Ya know, Abba? You’re a lot better than you give yourself credit for.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Narancia said, looking up to Leone while he looked down at the boy, “that I think you should be proud of yourself for all the shit you’ve worked through. Even on a bad day, like today.” His amethyst eyes met the sunset gradient of his elder friend’s, glistening with honesty. “And when you can’t see it yourself, we do.”
Letting out a fond exhale, he released himself from Narancia’s grip, only to pull the kid closer to him by the shoulder, giving it a pat. “Thanks.” Narancia let out a gleeful hum, and at that, Leone grabbed the remote with his free hand, turning up the volume. “Now, shut up so we can watch the fucking movie.” Fondness saturated his words.
While watching the movie didn’t solve Leone’s problem, and didn’t entirely remove his foul mood… At least here, distracted by his friend and the Wachowski’s sci-fi action blockbuster, it was a start.