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Having been in the mafia for 8 years, since you were barely a teenager, means you miss a lot of things. School, activities, friends your age, crushes, relationships.
But in Bruno's eyes, he didn't seem to regret missing any of that--well, maybe school just a bit. The emotional portion was covered more or less. His team wasn't exactly close, but it was enough for him to count as friends. And relationships were messy in the mafia. One never knew when the other would die.
This also meant, however, he wasn't as perceptive of some things as others.
That included his own emotions.
Which meant that they snuck up on him in the worst times.
Two years. He'd hired the other two years ago, and got to know him in that time. Or, he got to know him the best he could. Abbacchio wasn't exactly open nor trusting, but he wasn't exactly always sober either. When the other first joined, he'd picked the man up off the floor many a time, dragged him to the couch he called a bed and listened to him ramble and speak. Sometimes he'd fall asleep there himself while listening, only to wake up with the other's blanket around his shoulders.
The actions he witnessed helped speak volumes of who Abbacchio was as a person.
He was always formal to him, and he figured it had to do with his time as a cop. While the younger ones treated Bruno like an older brother, Abbacchio treated him like a commanding officer. Always held up with the utmost respect. When it came to work, that was fine. When it came to the nights where clearly something was wrong and unsaid, he wished the other viewed himself as his equal. He wished the other viewed him as a friend.
Eventually, he did open up to him. Bit by tiny bit. It wasn't everything, but it was something. He was understanding the other man better, and that made things easier.
He'd really come to enjoy the presence of the other man, especially as they were the same age. Something new for him.
But there was something there he couldn't place his finger on. Not in the other, but in himself. Something that wasn't fitting into place any time he thought about it, leaving the puzzle unfinished.
So he just left it be, not questioning it.
But staring at the hole through the other's chest, eyes fogged over in death, he understood.
The sorrow he felt was only something that a deep love would explain.
Over the past two years, he'd fallen in love with Leone Abbacchio. Two years of coaxing the other out of his shell and getting to know him, becoming the person he was closest to out of their group. Two years of pulling him off the floor, eventually pulling him to his own bed instead of the couch, taking it for himself instead to let the man rest. Two years of letting the feelings fester and pile, as he'd never experienced such a sensation before, and didn't know what to do with it.
And only in death, had he realized.
Exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding, he calmly spoke, gathering the attention of his teammates. He told them to grab the imprint of the bosses face, they had to leave. There was no time for mourning. No time for a burial. The best they could do was burn his body so the locals didn't have to discover it. His face and voice were calm, but his heart was shattered. Tears couldn't be shed--not even if he wanted to.
When everything was taken care of, they left. The ride away from the island was silent at first. No one dared to speak, leaving him with his thoughts and staring at his hands. He could swear he could see them becoming icier by the second.
Looking up at the sky, he closed his eyes, reminding himself he would be gone soon too. There was no way he could beat death a second time. It was inevitable. They'd be together soon enough.
Opening them back up, he simply wished Leone would greet him when he arrived.