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Narancia sighed dramatically as he sat hunched over his paper of stupid math equations that Fugo insisted he do instead of, you know, enjoying his day off with the others. Bruno and Mista were chatting amongst themselves as they ate their lunch, and Fugo was reading some dumb novel while waiting for Narancia to finish his work.
As much as he wanted to get it over with, it was a little tough for him to focus considering that someone was missing from the scene around him.
The boy bit his lip and tapped his pencil on the paper repeatedly. It had been three days without word from Abbacchio. It was as if the older man disappeared- Narancia was fully aware that he liked to protect his peace and be alone, but… he’s still never blown them off for this long before.
Despite his grumpy demeanor, Narancia would be lying if he said he hadn’t grown fond of the man in the time he’s known him. He had his own sick-of-everyone-and-everything old man charm that Narancia was strangely drawn to.
He was starting to believe Abbacchio was at least a little fond of him, too. Narancia was fully aware he could be annoying sometimes, but Abbacchio was always a little less snappy with him than the others (excluding Bucciarati; Abbacchio seemed to like him a lot from the get-go, much like the others did).
Narancia could confidently say that he missed him… and he could also confidently say that he was worried. He didn’t really care if he was a grown man, he was his friend, and as such, it was his job to care!
In a few smooth motions he dropped his pencil and roughly shoved the now crinkled paper towards Fugo, wasting no time in standing up from the table to leave. “I’m going to Abbacchio’s! I’ll be back later!”
The others all quickly looked over to him, and he was already almost out the door by that point.
“Hey- you didn’t even do a single equation! Get the hell back here!” he heard Fugo yell, but his and the other’s voices grew muffled as he created more distance between them.
-
Luckily, Bruno and Mista must have stopped Fugo from chasing after him and sticking a fork in his face or something for ditching him so abruptly. He would surely feel his wrath at a later time, but that wasn’t important to Narancia at all right now.
As members of the same team, they all were aware of exactly where the others lived in case of an emergency. Despite that it was kind of an unspoken rule to not drop in randomly at each other’s place. Bruno’s apartment seemed to be an exception… he seemed to welcome any of them in, if they needed it. Sometimes Narancia spent more of his time there than he did at his own place. He doubted he’d ever enjoy living alone, and it was nice to have someone like Bucciarati to spend his time with. Sometimes, even Mista was welcoming to him too, inviting him over to play video games or watch movies.
Abbacchio and Fugo, of course, not so much.
Abbacchio especially… as he approached his complex, he silently prayed that he wouldn’t be too angry at his surprise visit. He was probably the most secretive person Narancia has come to know. Even if he had a good cause for dropping in, he doubted he’d be very understanding of that.
He entered the notably empty and run-down lobby and looked around for the door with Abbacchio’s apartment number on it. Luckily, he was on the first floor, and the search was short.
He twisted the door knob a little, and to his surprise, it was unlocked. As Narancia entered, the apartment was even more run down than the old lobby, and the acrid smell of alcohol and general filth assaulted the boy’s senses.
He slowly walked in further to take in the sheer mess that surrounded him. Bottles of varying kinds of alcohol were strewn about, dirty dishes from who-knows-when on the table, and the blankets and throw pillows that were meant to be on the couch were instead in random places on the floor. Narancia didn’t even want to look in the kitchen- this was already more than enough to make him feel sick. He didn’t want to stick his nose where it didn’t belong any more than he already was… he wouldn’t find Abbacchio there, anyway.
At least he didn’t smell any blood…
There were a few other doors down the short hallway, and all were open except for one, and it was safe to assume that was where Abbacchio would be. He could hear him sobbing the closer he got- sounds that Narancia never, ever thought he would hear from him… the nausea in his gut intensified, but it didn’t stop him from gently opening the door. “Abbacchio..?”
The man’s head snapped up as soon as he heard his voice. Narancia took him by surprise; there was no time to save face and wipe his tears (it would be pointless anyway- the running mascara was telling enough). He looked like a complete wreck, nothing like the stoic, apathetic guy he’s come to know and love.
“What the hell are you doing here!?” Abbacchio cried out, his voice cracky and wobbly from days of crying and, judging by the sour smell that radiated off of him and the bottle he set on the nightstand, drinking.
At first, he came off as more angry than anything… but the shame and embarrassment on Abbacchio’s face was undeniable. Narancia just uncovered a side of him that he was sure he never intended on letting him, or anyone else for that matter, witness. Hell, the man wasn’t even fully looking him in the eyes.
“We- I was just worried about you… you’ve been gone for a while now. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get killed or something.” the boy spoke softly, slowly approaching Abbacchio more, as if he was unsure he was doing this right.
“I’m a grown man. I don’t- hic- need you to look after me.” he slurred, using the comforter to wipe his face and look slightly less embarrassing. Even after he was done with that, he used it to half-hide his face from him.
“You’re my team-mate, and it’s my job to look after you.” Narancia began in a firm tone of voice, getting onto the empty side of the mattress and sitting next to him. “Just like it’s your job to look after me, or any of the others. So please, tell me what’s got you so bothered!”
Abbacchio said nothing for a few moments, staring at his comrade with an unreadable expression.
“..God, I’m seriously about to tell you about this…” he finally sighed, looking down at his hand. Narancia wouldn’t admit that he was kind of happy he was drunk right now- otherwise, Abbacchio would never have even come close to being willing to open up.
“Before I joined the gang, I was a cop. And- hic- no, I won’t be going into more detail about that, so don’t even start,” Abbacchio started, and Narancia sealed his mouth shut… he totally wasn’t about to have asked him more about it before he said that…
“I was really close with my partner. He-” Abbacchio cut himself off, clenching the messy comforter until his knuckles went white. “H-He meant a lot to me… and I lost him. And all of it was my fault.” Narancia contemplated placing a hand on his shoulder, the struggle in his friend’s voice making him yearn to do something to help. But what if being touched was the last thing he wanted?
“I-I miss him so much... as of two days ago, it’s been a year since he died. That's why I’ve been gone- God, what would he think of me now if he saw me like this?” the tears made their return as he laughed dryly, covering his face with a hand.
But then, Narancia did something that surprised even himself.
He shut up that voice in his head that tried convincing him to not touch, and he tightly wrapped his arms around Abbacchio, refusing to let go. “Well… I don’t know what he’d think, but I think you’re pretty great.” he muttered into the side of his clammy chest.
…
Narancia grinned madly when after a few seconds, he felt Abbacchio twist around to return the hug with his immense strength, his tears wetting his hair- not that he cared.
“T-Thanks…” he responded, his voice now a little warmer.