Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summer of 1996. Pienza, Tuscany.

Two boys kneel on a carpeted floor, their gazes fixated on a thick, shiny square placed between them.
Its a CD. The cover is lightly faded, though not by any wear and tear, simply from what seems to be a shoddy print. Four thick, prickly vines stretch from top to bottom of the square, the rest of the background pitch black.

One boy, sitting across from the other, reaches out a hand and turns the case in his direction, the evening summer sun glinting off the packaging as his eyes trail over the yellow gradient letterings lining the corners.

“October Rust.”

The boy glances over at the other, golden eyes almost annoyed as they are curious.

“…Y/N…What the hell is this?” He says lowly, an eyebrow raised not so subtly.

The other boy, Y/N, sitting across from him perks up with partly widened eyes, a slow grin spreading across his lips. He quickly reaches out and grabs the CD back, holding it in both hands as he holds it out to his friend, as if he couldn’t see it well enough already. He looks like he’s practically bursting at the seams with excitement.

“Brand new Type O album. Pretty sick, huh?” Y/N exclaims, eyes full of mirth.

The other boy seems unimpressed, sitting back on the heels of his feet and folding his arms against his chest, staring silently back at the shiny package still in his face. Y/N swallows lightly, and moves the CD back into his lap, looking down at it with lightly furrowed brows, as if offended by its inability to make his friend smile.

“..I told you I’d get it, Leo, why aren’t you excited?” Y/N sounds more so disappointed now, his excitement losing its flame almost too quickly.

Leone blinks at the tone his friend takes, feeling a slight sense of guilt at the near instant drop of his expression. In truth, the only reason Leone isn’t finding himself bouncing off of every solid surface he can manage is because he’s in a state of shock. Today was the first day the album was even on sale..how did he manage to get it so quickly? Surely they’d have been sold out by the time he made it to the city, with all the adult fans waiting outside of record shops and the like, waiting for the moment the clerk opened the door. Yet somehow…

Leone lets out a long sigh, running a hand over his face and letting it rest over his mouth for a moment as he taps his jaw with a finger. Y/N stares back at him expectantly clearly feeling on edge about the lingering silence. Leone can’t help the way his lips start to curve into a smirk the longer he looks at the packaged perfection that his friend was holding.

“Jesus…how’d you even get this thing, dude?” He speaks up finally, letting his smile show as his hand moves from his face, instead reaching out to grab at the CD again, holding it up to the sunlight. Y/N’s smile snaps right back as he spots Leone’s rare grin, already piping up again.

“I couldn’t believe it myself! Man, you won’t believe it. Listen—“ Y/N adjusts his seating position, crisscrossing his legs as he leans forward, elbows propped on his knees as he holds his chin in one hand.

“As soon as I woke up, I rushed out the house and hopped in my car. I drove down to the city, and when I got to the record store, there was already a shit-ton of people waiting outside.” He shakes his head. “I thought for sure I was screwed..’nearly went back home. But I decided to give it a shot…walked over to the line, and these two chicks were fighting over the CD right in front ‘a me, snatching it back and forth or whatever. One of the broads was dumb enough to let it slip from her hands, and the moment it clattered to the ground, everything went quiet…I couldn’t even think before I was snatching the damned thing up and rushing towards the register!”

Y/N rambles on about this with a rather goofy looking smile on his face, almost as if proud of himself for practically stealing from these girls..Leone can’t help but snicker. It was so like his friend, to get mixed up in something so idiotic. Leone sets the CD down between them again, his head tilting as he inquires a little further.

“..So, what, they just let ya’ have it? Didn’t put up a fight?”

Y/N hums mischievously and shrugs, his gaze drifting over to the side.

“..’Course they did. ‘Cept I was too smooth, and I wiggled my way up to the register, paid for the damned thing before they could reach me.” He continues cooly.

Leone’s eyebrow raises in mild disbelief, and he starts to wonder just how much of this wild story is true..but then again, he wasn’t there, so how would he know? Either way, the weight of the CD in his hands just moments ago is as good a proof as any.

“..And you drove straight here afterwords?”

Y/N nods…Leone’s smirk only intensifies.

“God, what a legend.” Leone murmurs sarcastically, reaching a hand over to ruffle the messy cropped curls that is Y/N’s hair, watching amusedly as his friend snorts and swats his hand away. He lets out a small chuckle of his own, face scrunching slightly as he allows his hand to be pushed away, settling against the carpet again. He sighs quietly, almost contemplative as he looks down to the CD again, those green vines almost taunting him at this point. After a moment, Y/N’s voice cuts through again.

“So-?..Whatdya say, wanna listen to it now?” He almost murmurs, like he was sharing a secret of some sort.

Leones gaze shifts to his at the words, and he feels the excitement starting to prod at him now, too. Was that even a question? Of course he wanted to. He wanted to tear off that plastic with his two front teeth, for gods sake. He doesn’t respond for the moment, quickly standing up and rushing over to the window on the other side of the room, peeking out of it, the amber hue of the setting sun ghosting over his features. He looks down and out, peering at the driveway just below, eyeing it scrutinizingly. He hears Y/N shuffling to his feet as well, CD in tow as he comes to stand beside him, looking out as well.

“..My old man will be home soon..” Leone says quietly, almost to himself, tone becoming cautious and solemn. Y/N notices, and he puts a hand to Leone’s shoulder, squeezing gently and taking a small step closer, bearing a smile that makes Leone almost feel dumb.

“Guess that means we’d better get it spinning then, huh?” Y/N holds up the reflective square, shaking it briefly from side to side, as if trying to further tempt Leone. As if that were even possible. He can hear the CD rattling on the inside of the case, and he feels full to the brim with anticipation. He looks to the empty driveway one more time, before looking to Y/N, to the CD, and smiling wide, quickly plucking it from his hands with a hurried scoff.

“…Yeah, fuck it.”

—————

Leone’s pale white hair is being tossed all throughout the air as he bangs his head back and forth to the steady rhythm of an upbeat drum set, and a distorted guitar, the tune of “Be My Druidess” filling each corner of the room with a rather indescribable energy. Y/N is standing on top of his bed, playing an air guitar and swinging his own head back and forth as he hums along. Leone thinks he might pin this song as his favorite. He paces around the room, each step with a little added bounce to match the beat. This is the most alive he’s probably felt in a while. There’s something about the atmosphere that the music creates that just takes him away, makes him feel like he’s somewhere else..a place that’s dark, but certainly lighter than his own mind. And, well..perhaps Y/N is partly to blame. Leone can never manage to bite back a smile whenever he’s near. Even now, his teeth are showing as he grins, eyes crinkling at the corners as he turns to watch his friend imitate Steele’s performative singing, despite hardly knowing the lyrics yet. It brings about a sort of elation he doesn’t fully understand, and he doesn’t know if he ever truly will. Maybe he doesn’t care to understand.

Y/N jumps down from the bed, faux microphone still in hand as he turns to Leone, the song slowing down for the pre-chorus. Leone can see the layer of sweat gleaming on his forehead from all the movement, and he can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll do anything-“ Y/N starts, before holding the ‘mic’ up to Leones mouth for him to finish the lyrics. Leone obliges despite their vulgarity, with a wide smile.

“To make you cum.”

Y/N’s eyes brighten with satisfaction at his playing along, his smile spreading further as he repeats again, more passionate, breaths slightly heavy “I’ll do anything-“

“To make you-“

The door slams open.

…

Leone feels his entire body go rigid, and the smile on his face immediately fades. The music is so loud, but it almost feels like he can’t hear it anymore. Y/N doesn’t move an inch, and the singing ceases.

“Father-“ Leone begins, his voice breathless and honestly barely a squeak. He grimaces immediately at the sound.

Leones father is standing in the doorframe, tall and imposing as he looks down at the two boys, face screwed up into what Leone can already discern is unbridled rage. He’s still wearing his work uniform, the tassels and gold emblems almost taunting Leone from across the room. His blue eyes are icy, yet somehow calming at the same time. It sends an uncomfortable feeling up Leones spine. He hasn’t said a word since he opened the door, and his gaze is latched onto Leone now. Leone can feel his heart pounding against his chest, the flush of color starting to rise to his cheeks, staining his pale skin and giving him away. Not like he’d be able to weasel his way out of this anyways.

“Turn this off.” Leone’s father says, his voice even, but firm. Quiet. Each syllable he speaks feels heavier than the last. Leone feels like he can’t breathe.

“Yes sir-“ He responds, but before he can even force his limbs to move, Y/N is already moving over to the CD player, ejecting the iridescent disc with a flat expression, and setting it back onto of its case.

More silence ensues. Leone can’t bring himself to look into his father’s eyes, instead opting to look down at where his hands are rested idly at his sides, or down at his fathers boots, or anything but the image staring back at him.

“What did I tell you about listening to this kind of junk?” His voice is horrifying in Leone’s ears.

“..You told me not to, sir.”

“That’s right. So why then, Leone, have I just entered my home after a grueling day at work, to hear you blasting this perverted music from the foyer?”

Leone says nothing. He wants to defend himself, to correct his father, tell him they bought the wrong record or something- anything-

“It’s not his fault, Mr. Abbachio. I brought it with me.” Y/N speaks up from where he still stands across the room by the dresser. Leone feels his eyebrow twitch at the sound of his voice. He was coming to his defense. Leone didn’t know how to feel about that, but he still said nothing.

Leone’s father glances over at Y/N, arms folding against his chest as he regards the boy. He draws in a deep breath, brows only furrowing further at the explanation. Leone only hoped his father wasn’t bold enough to insult someone else’s child.

“So you did..” His father’s jaw clenches, and he’s quiet again, likely thinking of how he should now go about the situation.
“I’d like to make something clear to you, young man.” He turns to fully face Y/N, voice sounding more tense than before. “I don’t want my son listening to this kind of music. We have standards in this household, and if I’m going to let you into said home, you must find a way to respect them. Do not bring such things into this household again. Do I make myself clear?”

Leone can only imagine the thoughts wafting through Y/N’s head right now. He was a rational guy when it came down to it, but he had a temper, and he was most sensitive to being talked down to. He hears Y/N take a deep breath of his own.

“Yes, sir.”

Leone can feel himself physically relax now knowing that Y/N wasn’t going to put up a fight. Though a subtle guilt was still prodding at him, knowing that his friend had taken the brunt of his father’s frustration even though they were sort of both to blame. Yet he still doesn’t feel completely at ease. He knows his father wouldn’t let him off the hook that easy.

“..For the rest of your visit, I think it’d be best you both remain in the living room. Where I can see you.” His father speaks up again, now stepping back through the doorway, turning, and exiting into the hall where he makes his way back downstairs with an audible huff.

The room is quiet once again, but not for long, as Y/N lets out a low groan from where he stands, making Leone’s gaze snap to him for the first time since this whole ordeal began. Y/N is very clearly pissed, lips drawn into a not-so-gentle scowl, brows wrinkled, his fingers reluctantly scrambling to set the CD back in its case. He looks like he might break the damned thing with how careless he’s being. Leone remains standing in the middle of the room, looking back to the doorway where his father had just been, phantom pressure of his presence still pinning him down.

“..I’m sorry..” Leone croaks out after a moment, feeling shame and guilt itching at his throat and palms.

Y/N shakes his head with a sigh, waving him off as he steps back over to him.

“Don’t worry about it. My mistake for ignoring your warning earlier..” He says. It sounds like the previous burst of life he displayed earlier has been sucked from him entirely, tone soft and just..plain irritated. Leone just nods slowly at his words, despite the urge to declare Y/N as blameless in the situation. Leone should’ve done a better job at keeping track of the time- or turned the music down a little- or had a better excuse-

“Hey.” Leone feels a hand on his shoulder, and he blinks as he looks up to Y/N, his face riddled with gentle concern.

“..Seriously, it’s okay. Let’s just go downstairs before he comes back, alright?” Y/N forces a small smile, or at least it seems so. But Leone can still feel the sincerity from it. He nods and clears his throat.

“Yeah-..Okay, alright…lets go..”

—————

The two of them eventually make their way down to the living room, where Leone’s father was sitting at the dining table already, a book in hand and a cup of coffee in the other, despite it being way beyond afternoon. Leone glances out the window, where a growing darkness has begun to settle over the town. Two candles have already been lit upon the mantle, so Leone doesn’t bother turning the lamp on. They silently push further into the room, Y/N assuming his usual spot on the couch and reaching for the TV remote, being sure to turn the volume down low before flicking through the channels. Meanwhile, Leone steps behind the couch and reaches out to the bookcase, opening one of the frosted glass doors and looking over the spines of the collection his family had accumulated over the years.

“For Solo Voice” Is the one he finally chooses. A book he’d read at least twice by now..a personal favorite. His eyes trail over the blue hued cover for a moment, before he shuts the cabinet softly, and rounds the couch again to take his place next to Y/N, crossing one leg over the other as he peels the book open, eyes setting on its familiar intro.

Y/N finally finds a channel to watch, though he seems displeased at having to watch some cooking show over what he’d probably hoped was MTV, judging by the pout on his face. The murmur of the TV is low, and so is the sound of pages being flipped back and forth between Leone and his father. It’s getting steadily darker, and Leone thinks he might die from the unbearable, muggy tension looming over the three of them. After what feels like an hour, but in reality is more like 20 minutes, Leone shuts his book closed, not bothering to dog-ear the page, and casts a glance to Y/N, who seems to have actually become mesmerized by the woman chopping vegetables on the screen. He partly rolls his eyes and juts his leg out, knocking his knee against Y/N’s to get his attention.

Y/N’s eyes turn to him for a moment, but aptly focus on the tv just as quickly as he murmurs a, “Yeah, man, what is it?”

Leone wants to roll his eyes again at his friend’s obvious inattentiveness, but holds back on it for now. He sets his book down on the coffee table and speaks quietly, arms crossed over his chest.

“..You should probably head home, it’s getting late.”

Y/N finally turns again at this, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

“Oh..really?..Guess I wasn’t really watching the time..” He looks over to the clock hanging above the archway that leads to the hall, and hums with a small frown. He looks disappointed. Leone hates it.

“I’ll head out then..” He musters up a light smile, and places his hands on his knees as he lifts himself from the couch, stretching his arms out to the side before turning to his father at the table, nodding with a small ‘Buona Notte, Signore,’ and beginning to make his way out of the room, back into the foyer.

Leone watches all of this silently, the way he interacts with his father, so polite and complacent. Leone couldn’t stand a second of it. He finally stands and follows after Y/N, restraining himself from downright glaring at his father as he passes by.

The moment they step outside, Leone is met with a wall of humidity, only quelled by the fact that the sun has ended its reign of terror for the day, slipping slowly beneath the horizon. He closes the door carefully behind him, stepping down the porch stairs and onto the cobbled path that leads up to it. Out the corner of his eye, he sees Y/N leaning against his car, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark-wash jeans as he stares right back at Leone, like he’d been waiting. The CD is nestled between his palm. Leone swallows and approaches him.

“..Kickin me out hm? Im hurt.” Y/N jests with a small curve of his lips, tilting his head to the side.

Leone can’t help but return the smile, albeit shyly.

“No, I’m- Im not kicking you out, I just…Couldn’t handle the stifling air in there.” He clarifies, moving to stand in front of him, his own hand slipping into his back pocket.

A look of sympathy crosses Y/N’s expression, and Leone is grateful for it. Y/N nods and leans back against his car a little more, seemingly a bit more relaxed himself.

“..I get it…I’m sorry about all of that earlier, by the way…I-..” He looks guilty. “..Should’ve listened to you. Bit of a common theme, isn’t it?” He continues with a small laugh that isn’t quite believable.

And Leone doesn’t know why, but he feels his like his heart has become just slightly strained by the tone in his voice. It’s not something he’s used to hearing. He thinks he doesn’t want to hear it again.

“Yes, because you’re a fool.” Leone replies, trying to lighten the mood again in the only way he can think to. Y/N’s smile grows. It worked.

“Alright, dickhead, don’t get ahead of yourself..” He chuckles, reaching out to playfully push at Leones shoulder, which Leone lets happen.

A silence falls over them again, but it’s much more natural this time. They just stand and stare at each other for a beat.

Leone can feel the moisture in the air starting to cling to his arms, face, and neck, and he thinks he’d bare it a little longer if it meant he could remain in this moment.

“I think I’ll get you a pair of headphones for your birthday.” Y/N speaks up suddenly, pulling Leone back to his senses.

He raises a confused eyebrow, “What?”

…

“So you can listen to whatever music you want. Whenever you want.” Y/N reiterates.

Leone gets an odd feeling in his chest.

“..My birthday is 7 months away. You’re going to forget.” He tries to reason, but the words don’t even feel right as they come out of his mouth.

Y/N just smiles. “..I’ll write it down.”

…

Leone stares at him, golden eyes glint with incredulity. And then he feels his lips curling upwards. It’s uncontrollable, and he hates it. He sighs heavily, and takes a step closer, lifting a hand and ruffling Y/N’s hair.

“Go home.” He says simply. Y/N chuckles, but doesn’t swat away Leone’s hand.

“Okay, okay, I’m going..” His laughter dies down as he pulls his keys from his pocket, and turns to unlock the car door. “See you..tomorrow?” He says over his shoulder, tone questioning and almost hesitant.

Leone smiles and nods, “..We’ll see.”

Y/N seems satisfied even with this non-answer as he ducks down into the drivers seat, shutting the door and rolling down his window as the engine begins to roar.

“..Buona Notte, Leone.” He says, flashing a smile that Leone can’t describe as anything other than charming. Objectively, of course. Leone returns the gesture, and tacks on a small wave.

“..Buona notte.”

Y/N’s window rolls back up, concealing his face as he begins to back out of the driveway. Leone stands and watches until the glow of his tail lights can no longer be seen. Just when he thinks he’s gone, he can faintly hear the sound of “Be My Druidess” playing up the road. Leone gets that feeling again..and he allows himself to smile. 

Chapter Text

Today is Saturday. Leone, in fact, ended up not seeing Y/N the next day. Nor the day after that. Or the day after that. It’s been 5 days. Every moment he thought about what happened that day, he was plagued with a sense of guilt and shame at the way his friend had been treated in his own home. Not to mention the fear he felt from the odd stirrings he got that night as he watched Y/N pull out of the driveway. It was all rather confusing, and he figured seeing the guy again would just intensify everything tenfold. So instead, he’d spent the last week holed up in his room, reading over the pages of that book again, almost listlessly. It was futile. He couldn’t stop thinking about it all, and it was driving him nuts.

That is, until last night. Y/N had called him on the house phone. Leone was looking out on the balcony when he heard his father’s calls from downstairs. He hadn’t even heard the phone ringing, too caught up with watching the trees and other bundles of plants sway with the cool breeze passing by every so often.

“Leone-! It’s for you!”

His father had called. Leone considered ignoring him, or telling him to let it go to voicemail, uninterested in whoever was trying to contact him. But then he reconsidered, realizing that there was only one person who would be calling him at this time of night. Or at all for that matter.

He, with more haste, re-entered the house, and made his way to the first floor, and soon into the kitchen, where his father was still standing by the receiver, murmuring something like ‘here he is now.’ in a partially agitated tone as Leone approached. He sort of froze up when he realized he’d have to face his friend after literally ignoring him for days, his father staring at him both curiously and impatiently. Leone pulled himself together and quickly grabbed the phone.

[..Hello?]

[Hey man.] Y/N sounded a bit tired, like perhaps he’d just woken up. That only served to make Leone feel worse.

[Hi.]

[It’s been a while, huh? Been MIA for like..forever.]

[..Only been five days.]

[You’ve been counting?]

…

Leone had been counting, but he didn’t feel good about it, and he felt more than embarrassed at being called out on it.

[Yeah. Listen- I'm sorry. I just got..busy.]

Silence followed.

[..Sure, man, no worries.]

Once again, Leone felt like perhaps Y/N was disappointed, despite how calm he sounded. Leone was tempted to think up another pile of excuses, but he’d hardly got a moment to do so before Y/N was speaking again.

[Are you busy tomorrow?] He’d asked suddenly, and Leone had looked at the phone as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was he just..brushing it off? Five days of silence, put out of his mind like it was nothing? Leone had to remind himself that this was a phone call, and that he needed to respond.

[Uhm..no, why?]

[Let’s go fuck around on some hills or something.]

Leone had quickly looked up, his eyes snapping from side to side to see if his father was near enough to hear Y/N’s curse. He’d smiled at the sound of it, though. Faintly, but it was there.

[..Okay.]

[Yeah?]

…

[Yeah..]

[Sick. Just meet me at that field, y’know which one I mean, right?]

Leone did know, no thanks to his friend’s shitty geographic description. They’d come across it a few times throughout the summer, but never actually stopped to explore it.

[The one at the edge of town by your house.]

[Yeah, that one.] Leone could hear Y/N smiling.

[..I’ll be there.]

[Noon?]

[Yes, noon.]

[..Cool. Ciao.]

Leone smiled again, more than he had since that day he’d seen him last. [Ciao.]

The line rang out, and Leone was quick to put the phone back on its hanger, not wanting to spoil his own mood with the annoying tone. He’d leaned against the wall, eyes glued to where his fingers were still wrapped around the phone and let out a slow breath. He was so…glad.

And now, he was standing in front of his closet with a blank expression, staring over the sea of muted colors and shades, chewing at the nail of his thumb. He was nervous as hell. It was already almost 11 and he still hadn’t figured out what to wear, or showered, for that matter. He didn’t know why it mattered so much to him now, and even that was making him anxious to the point of sickness. Perhaps, he considers, it was because he was still thrown off by Y/N’s nonchalant response to having been ghosted for days. Usually, he’d have at least teased about it, but he didn’t make a single gripe. ‘Accepted Leone’s excuse for what it was, and just made plans for the next day. It wasn’t right.

“For fuck’s sake…”

He mutters out loud to himself, resting his head in his hands. He was completely overthinking it again. Now, he was this close to just calling off the whole hangout for today and taking another day to wallow in his own doubt. But...somewhere inside he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. And…he wanted to see him. This was probably the most time they’d been apart all summer, and the entire thing felt unreal.

Leone lets his hands fall away from his face, and his gaze leads back to the row of clothes in front of him with a newfound sense of determination. He takes a deep breath.

He opts to wear something simple, appropriate for the weather, and for the activity they’re going to get into. And to Leone, that meant a faded striped shirt; lilac, grey and black, paired with some old jean shorts he’d wear at least once a week throughout the season. He sets the items out on his bed, scratching at the back of his neck as he wonders if this’ll be good enough..

He stops himself from wondering further and hustles his ass over to the shower before he ends up changing his mind.

—————

Leone is 10 minutes late. He’d spent said 10 minutes lazying about in the shower, brooding despite telling himself he wouldn’t. It was sort of his thing. But..surely 10 minutes wasn’t enough to make Y/N turn around and go back home, right? Right. Leone felt ridiculous. He’d hardly gotten a moment to say goodbye to his father before he was rushing over to the back of the house and mounting on his bike. By now, he was a quarter way down into the village, and he needed maybe only two minutes more before he’d reach the outskirts.

It was extremely crowded. Every sidewalk felt tighter than a pack of sardines. Maybe even more so because of the sweltering heat that had fallen over the region. Lots of fruits on sale, though. Leone had skipped breakfast in his nervousness, and now seriously regretted it. Yet, all that truly mattered to him now was making it to the field. He pushed those pedals to their absolute limit, weaving through the streets with practiced ease, his hair whipping at his face and neck every so often. No way he was going to make Y/N wait any longer.

…

When he arrives at the field, Leone is alone. He grips the handlebars of his bike as he kicks out the stand, looking around confusedly. Shit. Maybe he was too late. He was already testing Y/N’s patience with the stunt he’d pulled; he’d probably gotten impatient and left. Shit, shit, shit. Leone’s lip curls into a snarl and he feels he might scream. He stands out at the edge of the cobblestone square and looks out over the field, thinking maybe he’d spot him somewhere down there already, all to no avail. This was all so..unbelievable. Unfair? Leone didn’t know if it was even fair for him to think that. His breaths are still heavy with the remnants of his reckless speeding, lungs already beginning to feel sore. Damn it, he wants to go home. He turns to his bike to do so.

Beside him, though, he hears the sound of a sharp bell ringing somewhere to the right. He immediately lifts his head to see Y/N riding down a tight alleyway, one hand clutching the handlebar while the other is waving at him, that familiar smile plastered on his face.

Leone wants to strangle him.

Y/N pulls up next to him, his bike screeching with the hard brake he makes, kicking small pebbles up in the process which Leone feels bumping at his shins.

“Hey.” Y/N says this so casually, it only makes Leone that much angrier. He looks over him slowly, taking in his presence. Y/N is dressed in a pair of dark blue overalls, one strap hanging slightly off his shoulder, with a forest green shirt underneath, the sleeves cut off, obviously by his own doing. He bears a single loomed bracelet on his left wrist.

“What’s with the look?” Y/N speaks up again with a smirk, kicking down the stand on his bike as he dismounts.

Leone says nothing, continuing to scowl at him before rolling his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. It was so difficult to be mad at him.

“You’re late.” He says, even though it makes him a hypocrite. Whatever. Y/N wouldn’t know anyways.

He laughs again and arches an eyebrow, stuffing a hand in his front pocket and using the other to wipe the sweat that had built up on his forehead and under his eyes.

“Sorry about that. My brother was being a dick, trying to give me shit about using his bike.”

At this point, Leone has begun to let his panic slip away. Y/N was here now, that’s all that mattered. Even if he’d almost just had a heart attack about him not being here just moments ago.

“What happened to yours?”

Y/N shakes his head and glances back at his elder brothers’ bike with a light frown.

“I got a flat. Didn’t realize until I was trying to pull it ‘round the house this morning and nearly face planted into the dirt.”

Leone snickers at that, just the image itself, and only now notices the slight scuffs of dusty brown on the knees of Y/N's overalls. He hums and nods, as if in sympathy.

Awkward silence.

And then,

“I’m glad you showed up.” Y/N says.

Leone looks up from where his eyes had settled on the dirt stains, lids flickering as he hears his friend’s words. There was so much he could say right now. But he knows he probably doesn’t want to hear any of it, judging by the way he’d replied to Leone’s apology last night. Leone forces a small smile.

“Me too.”

Y/N smiles back. Leone feels his eye twitch.

“Cmon, let’s get a move on..standing still in this heat is like a death sentence.” Y/N says dramatically, frantically fanning himself with the collar of his shirt as he mounts his bike again.

Leone obliges, kicking up his stand and settling on his bike as well. “Damn straight..” He mumbles, smiling softly to himself as they begin to ride out into the open field, Y/N leading the way, and Leone tailing close behind.

—————

The lush green grass crunches and writhes beneath the weight of bike tires as the two of them venture out further and further. The sun is hung high in the sky at this hour, and there is absolutely no escaping it. Behind them, the view of the town has begun to shrink smaller and smaller, and after only 15 minutes it becomes a miniature version of itself. A speck. Leone thinks he’d be much happier if it were like that all the time. He imagines how much quieter it would be as he pedals, pushing hard to force his wheels through the uneven flatlands, blades of grass tickling at his ankles..or cutting, rather, with the speed they’re riding at.

He wants to keep imagining that peaceful version of Pienza, but the flow of his thoughts is broken off as Y/N starts to brake. Leone had been spacing out and didn’t recognize they were already at the top of a hill. The town was long gone. It was just the two of them, the sun, the wind, the bugs, and the bikes. Leone is astonished as he looks out over the ridges of the earth. He hops off of his bike, letting it clatter to the ground as he steps up to the hill's very peak, looking out and over the land. It’s…gorgeous.

Each brush of the wind turns the grass about and conjures a sea of movement and shifting colors, making it look like a comforting rug of sorts. Leone wants to lay in it. There are clusters of trees here and there, a squadron of bushes lining the bottom of the hills where perhaps a creek lies..These were maybe the deepest hills Leone had ever seen, rolling up and down like wavelengths.

Y/N is cautious enough to put out his kickstand, and walks up next to Leone, taking in the same sight as him with a low whistle, already smiling and wiping his forehead again.

“God damn..” Y/N says loudly, nearly shouting. Leone shoots him a look, which he promptly ignores of course.

“What? Nobody’s around, we can say whatever the hell we wanna!” He says excitedly, almost bouncing on the heel of his feet.

..He had a point. Leone had felt weary about it before, but after seeing this..well, he didn’t really care if anyone else was around anyways.

“..Hell yeah.” Leone murmurs, mostly to himself as he fixates on the landscape.

Y/N nods quickly and starts doing what looks like..a dance of some kind. It's not really a dance, it’s this stupid thing he does when he gets really thrilled about something; pumping his fists in the air, nodding his head, spinning around in a circle, humming some tune that doesn’t exist- really it's ridiculous. Leone hates it so much that he grins.

After a moment, Y/N finally stops and he turns to Leone again, then back to the hill, and to Leone again.

…

“Last one to the bottom is a rotten egg-” Y/N says quickly, already moving to the edge of the curve.

Leone sputters, his heart kicking against his chest as he stares at him. This guy..He huffs a laugh and follows after him hurriedly yelling,

“What are you, five?!”

Y/N cackles and lays down on the ground, shouting back— “YES!” — as he tucks his arms in, and uses a quick push of his leg to send him spinning down the hill.

Leone stares in awe as his friend is practically catapulted down, but he doesn’t take much time to linger. If there’s one thing about him, it’s that he never loses, and he wasn’t about to let that change. He laughs heartily as he lies down on his back, caging his head behind his arms as he twists and sends himself rolling.

The whole way down he can’t stop laughing, and he can hear Y/N hooting and screaming from just a little ways down. The ground beneath him is hard, and every time his body hits against it, he regrets his stupid decision to follow Y/Ns stupid decision. But it’s so worth it. The world is spinning and twirling, ribbons of light in his vision, coupled with the blur of the blue and green hues that surround them. It’s beyond amazing. Positively terrifying in all the best ways, maybe. He doesn’t know how long they keep rolling for, but he at least knows there is an end, because he hears Y/N go ‘OUF-' before letting out what could only be described as a war cry.

Leone’s rolling begins to slow down, and he can feel the elevation flattening out. He keeps on rolling until he loses all momentum, at which he lets his limbs flail out as he lays on his back, chest heaving as he stares up at the sky, the corners of his vision fractioned and adrift. He has to close his eyes almost immediately, trying to keep himself from throwing up.

He can hear Y/N breathing, somewhere off to the side, probably too out of it to continue his shouting anymore.

As the adrenaline starts to drain away, Leone can feel the pain and soreness starting to settle into his hips, knees and back. He groans and turns over on his side, hair covering his face and effectively shielding it from the sun. Y/N hears his noisy complaints and laughs from wherever he is.

“..I am never doing that again..” Leone grumbles, peeking through the gaps in his hair when he hears the grass shifting in front of him. Y/N has tumbled over to him, and is propped up on his elbow, staring down at Leone with a playful smile.

“What?! C’mon that was fan-fucking-tastic.” Y/N argues.

Leone shakes his head and closes his eyes again, sighing deeply as he lies back. It was true, though. Leone couldn’t help but think how..free he felt. Liberated, maybe. It was..good.

“Don’t be a prude..” Y/N pipes up again, rolling closer to him now, until he literally rolls on top of Leone, his back flopping against Leone’s stomach. Leone immediately huffs and tries to push him off, nudging at his shoulder.

“You’re heavy, and it’s too hot—go away...” Leone continues prodding at him, but he’s so depleted of his energy he doesn’t put up a fight for long, and eventually just lays back again, defeated. Not like Y/N was going to move anyways.

The grass brushes against his face as his eyes slip shut, a nice gust of wind passing through as they both remain unmoving, still trying to recover from the spontaneous, and rather reckless burst of action.

“..C’mon let’s go one more time.”

“No.”

…

“Pleaseeee, Leo?”
…

“Fine.”

They went down the hill 3 more times after that.

—————

Eventually, the hill rolling had truly expended all their available energy, and Leone was seriously starting to get nauseous, so they ended the tumbling session and instead started exploring the rest of the plains. An overcast of clouds hid the blazing rays away as they stumbled upon a small stream. Leone, for about five seconds, considered drinking from it. Then he thought perhaps he’d like to live long enough to make it back up the hill. Next time, he’d show up a little more prepared.

Y/N is crouched down in front of the running water; his fingertips dipped partly beneath its surface. He says it's 'cooling and he’d like to swim in it', to which Leone rolls his eyes and promptly ignores him. Leone perches beneath a decently big tree with lots of shade, leaning his head back against its trunk and breathing in the muggy smell lingering in the air. The scenery is much more peaceful, and Leone finds himself almost drifting off to the soft sounds of distant birds singing and splashing water.

“..So what’s the real reason I haven’t seen you in five days?”

Like a record has been abruptly scratched, Leones eyes open, and he stares at Y/N’s back from where he’s still facing the creek. God, he’s so glad he can’t see his face right now. Leone can feel the sweat building up all over again.

Deep down, Leone knew this was coming. He had anticipated it, after all, but just…not now. He had expected it sooner, and when it didn’t happen sooner, he thought..well, that everything was water under the bridge. What a dream. He felt a little relieved, though, since he’d already been thinking of his answer to this question, and he didn’t have to suffer the pain of his own silence.

“..I was..embarrassed.”

…

“About what happened with your dad?”

Leone nods, stupidly. “Yeah.”

There’s a small beat of silence before Y/N lets out a long sigh, and at the end of it a chuckle. This confuses Leone, and makes a pit form rather suddenly in his stomach. Y/N stands up, tossing a pebble across the water, and watching as it skips along the top, before turning around and facing Leone.

“Well, thank god.”

“..What?” Leone’s face is tinted pink.

“Man, I thought you really hated me..or— or that maybe your dad said we weren’t allowed to hang anymore.” Y/N explains, shrugging and walking over to Leone, taking a seat next to him with a small grunt.

Leone is...confused. It was such a strange feeling, to think that he could ever hate his best friend over something that wasn’t really his fault. What’s even more strange is the thought that Y/N actually sounded quite...dreadful. Up until this moment, he’d acted like he didn’t give a damn. But it’s clear he was fretting just as much as Leone was.

“Oh..” Leone shakes his head, bringing himself back to the topic at hand. “No-..no it was nothing like that, I swear..”

Y/N nods, looking to Leone as he speaks. Leone doesn’t return his gaze. He keeps talking, seizing the opportunity.

“It was just..an uncomfortable situation, and I hated to have put you in it, y’know? The way my dad spoke to you..the way I let him speak to you-- it just sort of..”
Leone shakes his head in lieu of finishing his sentence, hoping that was enough for him to understand what he was getting it. Leone couldn’t quite get himself to speak his mind to the fullest.

Thankfully, Y/N seems to understand just fine, nodding yet again.

“Yeah, I get that..I do wish I had known, though. We coulda..worked through it sooner, maybe? I dunno..I was bored as hell without you..” Y/N huffs out a laugh, and starts picking at a rock on the ground.

Leone realizes Y/N is just as bad with words, and that puts him a little more at ease.

“..I just needed space.” Leone admits, surprising himself.

Y/N glances up at him again, his eyebrows a bit raised.

“..Yeah—right, of course that’s..totally fine. I’m- I’m glad you were able to..do that..”

It’s so awkward it hurts. They’ve never really had a conversation like this before. Everything is usually so lighthearted and carefree. ‘Feelings’ usually take the back burner. Perhaps Leone was getting too comfortable.

“Well I’m happy you’re back now.” Y/N speaks up again, and it gets Leone’s eyes to shift to him, taking in his facial expression. It’s so...genuine. Just like before. Leone just nods.

What happens next, though, is beyond Leone’s comprehension. Y/N starts maneuvering around, turning this way and that, until he’s laying his head back into Leone’s lap, legs outstretched in front of him, hands clasped over his stomach as he stares up at him.

Leones eyes spread like saucers as the weight settles against the tops of his thighs, and he blinks rapidly, hands fisting into the ground beneath him. Neither of them say anything, but Leone is sure he can feel the blood rushing to his face. He tries to will it away, but he knows for damn sure it’s not working.

Y/N smiles softly, reaching his hand up towards Leone, and he thinks for a moment that he’s going to touch his face, but the hand moves further up, and Leone feels his fingers picking at his hair. When his hand comes back down, there’s a long, straggly piece of dead-ish grass in between his thumb and index finger. Leone wants to die. Right here, right now.

“..There’s shit all in your hair, man..” Y/N says quietly. Leone's lips pull into an unintentional frown at the sheer embarrassment he feels hitting him from all sides.

He scoffs, feigning indifference as he leans fully back against the tree again and turning his head away to look somewhere far out, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as he can manage.

He can hear Y/N starting to chuckle, can feel his torso shaking with each sound. It only serves to make him redder.

They sit like that for a good while. Y/N continues to pluck through Leone’s hair, getting out all the debris that had gotten tangled in the white strands when they’d been rolling. Leone is grateful, but his heart feels so fucking itchy. Its unbearable.

The two of them remain out in the fields until the sun starts its descent again. They take their time making it back up over the hill, not wanting to accidentally crash back down in the process, especially with all their exhaustion, intermittently talking about what they might have for dinner. Leone wants Pizza. Y/N wants Pappa al Pomodoro. They talk about this knowing they’ll probably fall asleep the moment they enter their respective homes, it's absurd.

By the time they reach the town cobblestone again, it’s quiet all around. The once buzzing streets have retired yet again, and Leone is glad.

He tells Y/N he had a good time.

Y/N agrees.

They go their separate ways, and Leone enjoys the brisk bike ride home.

He falls asleep that night running his fingers through his hair.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Leone?”  

“Mhm..?”  

“..Whatdya wanna be when you grow up?”  

Leone lifts his head from where he’s lying flat on the floor, looking to where you’re seated at the edge of his bed. The two of you are at Leone’s house again, having exhausted yourselves of adventure the previous day, and just wanting to relax, do something absolutely mind numbing. In this case, that consisted of staring at various corners of Leone’s room in total silence, save for these small bursts of conversation.   

“..A Police officer.”  

His answer both does and does not surprise you. You hum contemplatively, tilting your head to the side a bit.  

“Really?”  

“Yeah..”    

“..I thought you’d want to be something more..laid back.”  

“Yeah? Like what.”  

You grin secretively to yourself, knowing the answer you’ve conjured up will get a reaction out of him.  

“A baker.”  

Leone rolls his eyes and scoffs audibly, turning his head away and towards the opposite wall instead.  

“I hate you.”  

  You laugh and tip backwards, back hitting the mattress with a muted thump, arms spread out to the side as you stare up at his ever-revolving ceiling fan. The only thing keeping you both from turning to puddles of sweat.   

“..Seriously though, I’m curious..why a police officer?” You speak up again, the teasing tone from earlier having been replaced with genuine intrigue.     

Leone doesn’t turn to face you, and he’s quiet for at least 10 seconds before you can hear his voice drifting through the space again, sounding almost timid.   

“‘Cause..my old man, and stuff.”  

“Ah..?”   

“…He wants me to take over his position once he retires.”   

Oh. Your stomach twists uncomfortably at the tone Leone’s voice takes, solemn and distant. He clearly wasn’t very enthusiastic about the ordeal, and you could think of maybe a hundred reasons why on your own, but you wanted to ask anyways..  

“Do you want to?”  

“What?”  

…  

“Take over his position, I mean. Like..are you actually even interested in the police force?”  

You can hear Leone shifting against the rug, and you sit up slightly to see him no longer laying down, but rather with his knees up to his chest, eyes looking across the room at a wall. You follow his line of sight to see a picture frame hung on the wall, depicting a relatively blurry image of three people standing close together in front of Leone’s porch. One man, one woman, one boy. Leone’s father stands to the far left, clad in his police uniform, standing straight and tall. You can’t make out the details of his face very well, but you know for sure it’s him.   

  To the far right stands a woman. Well..at least that’s what you infer. As your eyes trail up the woman’s floral-patterned dress, the image is interrupted by a jagged tear. Her entire face, gone. In all your time spent here, you’d hadn’t yet the balls to ask why.   

  Then of course, between the two figures is a mini-Leone, your eyes zeroing in on his chubby cheeks, hair shaved down to a mere buzz, a big ‘ole grin on his face, holding a little lion plush in his hands. He looks..proud. You return your eyes back to the present version of him, and the contrast is striking. Leone looks..detached.   

“..Yeah, I am..”  

Touchy subject.   

“I believe in justice just as much as the next person,” Leone continues, not taking his eyes off of the photograph, “I want to be useful to my community.” The words that come from his mouth sound both void and determined at the same time.   

You aren’t quite sure how to navigate things from here. You can tell there’s a whole can of worms to be opened here, its obvious by the way the atmosphere has taken a complete 180. And yet when you begin to formulate a response; ‘Do you really mean that?’, the words get caught in your throat. You don’t want to go there right now. Or maybe ever, if possible. So instead, you resort to the best distraction you know..humor.   

“Oh, lovely..didn’t realize you were such a Samaritan, Leo.” You mutter with light sarcasm and a small smirk. A weak joke, maybe the weakest you’ve ever pulled, but what the hell else could you say?  

  It gets Leone to pull his eyes away from the wall, seemingly snapped out of his brief trance. He snickers and shuffles closer to the bed with a shake of his head. Crisis averted.   

You watch him come closer, and he turns so that his shoulder blades rest against the edge of the bed frame, right next to where your legs are hanging off.  

“What about you, hm? What do you wanna be?”   

“Easy..a rockstar.”   

Leone hits your calf with a fist, and you chuckle, knocking his hand away with a push of your knee.  

“Come on, jackass, be serious..”   

You find it sort of amusing that he didn’t believe you truly wanted to be a rockstar, because it technically was your childhood dream.  

“Mmh..honestly I’ve got no clue.”  

“Eh?”   

“..I ain’t really got anything I’m passionate about besides music I guess, but that’s no career..” You explain, voice becoming quieter at Leone’s reaction.   

He turns his head up to look at you, but he looks more curious than he does judgmental.  

“..But you’re smart. There’re a thousand things you could probably do.” Leone speaks as if this is fact. Really, all you hear is the part where he calls you smart, something you never thought you’d hear him openly admit.  

“Ya’ think so?…I guess I just haven’t put much thought into it…too scary.”   

“Scary how?”   

You fold your arms behind your head, lips pursing in thought as you mull over the best way to explain this without returning to that stale mood you’d practically just gotten rid of.   

“Y’know it’s just..growing up has so many unknowns. I’d rather remain ignorant for a while longer before I’ve gotta battle against all that shit.” It’s an incredibly watered-down version of how truly terrified you feel about the subject, but it’ll suffice for now.   

It’s certainly enough to satiate Leone’s curiosity, as he turns to face forward again, no longer pinning you with his gaze.  

“Yeah, I guess that’s true..” A brief drag of silence.. “. .I guess the rockstar idea isn’t so bad, then.” Leone continues quietly, a playful lilt in his tone.   

You sit up quickly, propped up on your elbows with a stretched smile. You look down to Leone with a short laugh, not believing he was suddenly playing up your half-assed pipe dream.  

“Oh, yeah? See, I told you! I can imagine it now; sold out shows, VIP tickets to everything, private jets and unlimited wine—“  

Leone laughs loudly at your sudden excitement, his hair falling over his face as he leans forward with the force of the laugh. Your smile falters as you..admire him. Each sight of his smile is like..like scratching an itch. Just can’t get enough. Even with how awkward it looks sometimes in comparison to his typical stoic countenance, you still think it’s beautiful…  

Beautiful..?   

Since when did you start describing it that way?   

“ You sound so superficial. What about your love for the craft, huh? Or is it only about the luxury for you?” Leone says between dying huffs of laughter, drawing your attention back to him.   

You put your previous thoughts out of mind.  

“Oh, of course not. I’d practically live in my god damn recording studio, crafting up whatever I can even if it sounds horrible.”  

“Uh-huh..what would your band be called?”  

“How do you know I wouldn’t be a solo singer?”  

“Very funny, Y/N.”   

You roll your eyes, though lightheartedly, and try to think of a proper answer to his question. It wasn’t really something someone could just think up on the spot..but you attempted it anyways.  

“I dunno..maybe somethin’ like..Velvet Casket?”  

“..A bit morbid.”  

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” You lean forward, bringing your face eye-level with his as your lips curl into a smile. Leone turns to look at you, and he almost looks surprised to see you so close so suddenly.    

He hums and looks down to his hands in his lap, fingers fidgeting briefly. After a moment, he nods and reaches his hand up, roughing up your hair in that familiar gesture that always gets you giggling like a kid.  

“Yeah, I like it . Sounds sick.”  

When you open your eyes again, you think for a moment that you spot a light red tint to Leone’s skin, but he faces forward again so quickly you can’t figure if it was just an effect of the room’s lighting or..something else.   

  The fact that he likes your band name has you pretty hyped, though, a sudden surge of elation coursing throughout your system.    

“‘Course it does, cause I came up with it.” You say smugly, leaning back on your hands, the dark grey comforter smooth against your palms.   

Leone shakes his head and goes back to fiddling with his hands, not wanting to feed your ego any further than he unintentionally has by now.   

“..’You gonna be a city boy, then?” He speaks up again.  

You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question. “…Not if I can help it.”  

“Really? I’d always pinned you as the type.”   

“I mean- I guess I’d have to go at some point..but I like it out here in the countryside. It’s open and unrestrictive. Don’t gotta worry about all the pressure I guess.”  

Leone hums thoughtfully at your response, running a hand through his hair and watching as it rests against his shoulders.   

“Yeah, that’s fair…I think I’d like to experience city living, though. At least once in my life.”  

That definitely surprised you.   

“I thought you’d more so enjoy the quiet of this small town..”    

Leone shakes his head and stands up slowly, setting himself on the edge of the bed next to you, though leaving a gap of space between you.   

“It’s too compact here. Everyone knows everything about each other. It’s only ever quiet at night. ‘Gossip never stops. In the city, people mind their own damn business.”  

So that was it..while you found freedom in the open plains, Leone felt constricted by the close-knit town itself. He had a point, anyways. But it almost sounds like he’s speaking from personal experience..  

“I guess the city is a better place for a police officer anyways, hm? Definitely more crime than out here..” You say with a small laugh, shifting the focus again.  

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You could probably build up quite the record if I wasn’t here to keep you in check.” Leone quips, a wry smirk on his lips.   

“Oh, hush-!” You shove him away with a push to his shoulder, though not without a smile of your own.   

Leone snickers and just barely keeps himself from falling off the bed from the force of your push, fingers gripping the blanket beneath them. After his laughter dies down, Leone glances at you with a contented looking expression, his eyes seeming much calmer..diluted from their usual sharpness. And then it’s gone. And Leone is looking to the floor again.  

Damn it..  

Your eyes move back over to that picture frame on their own volition, lingering on the blank upper right corner. You find a slow frown beginning to form on your face, an irrational sense of guilt and empathy starting to cloud your once serene thoughts. You can tell there’s still an enormous wall between you and Leone. You start to realize..you hardly really know anything about him. And vice versa. Perhaps that’s why things in their friendship was starting to become so..rocky.   

The communication was all screwed, because neither of you had taken the time to learn each other. And for a while, you’ve thought that’s what was best. Keep your distance. Stay alert. But the more time you spent with him, that mindset was starting to feel more like a burden than anything. Now, you wanted to get close. Wanted to get personal…You can feel your heart stirring faintly in your chest.   

“Hey, Leo..”   

“Yes?” He replies, looking to you again.   

“..Wanna come to my place tomorrow?”   

…  

“ Absolutely .”  

Chapter Text

Well, in the moment, that had seemed like the best proposal Leone had ever received. But now, standing in front of Y/N’s flat, he regrets his previous haste in accepting it.  

Leone had never been to Y/N’s house. Sure, he had been around it a couple times, seen the outside of it the few times he’d walked him home, but this was going to be his first time actually entering the building. Leone wondered why that was the case. They’d known each other for some time now..or at least that’s what it felt like. In reality, he’s only known him since the beginning of the school year.  

He still remembers those September mornings like they were just yesterday. Everything had come about so suddenly, Leone hardly had any chance to process what was going on. He and Y/N are two out of a handful of kids that don’t go to school within the town itself, being that Pienza was so small it only harbored a primary school and lower secondary. The population of teenagers was rather minuscule to begin with, so those that existed went to the nearest Upper Secondary in Montepulciano. Every morning, Leone would drag himself out of bed, bike five minutes down the road to the bus stop and then ride the bus into Montepulciano for another 20 minutes. To say it was taxing would be an understatement.  

(Now that he’s recounting this, Leone wonders if perhaps they’ve unknowingly met before when they were kids and just completely put it out of mind. He makes a mental note to ask.)  

It’s not that Leone had never noticed Y/N, since he had to ride the bus too. He just..never payed the guy much attention. There was no reason to. At that time of morning, everyone was grumpy, agitated, and trying to mentally prepare themselves for the absolute prison that was school. And it’s not like Y/N stood out in any way from the other groups of kids, besides maybe his penchant for dark clothing even when it was still breaching 80 degrees. 

 For an entire school year, that’s how it went. Bike, bus, school. Leone had assumed it would be the same the next school year, but on one particular morning a few weeks after school had first started, Y/N wasn’t on the bus. The removal of his face from Leone’s typical surroundings was more stark than he’d thought it would be. He started to silently speculate where he could have gone; perhaps he skipped town or transferred to a different school..? It was on his mind for the entire bus ride to school, but by the time he’d gotten to class, it was the least of his worries.  

The next day, Leone was late to the bus. He’d overslept. It wasn’t a particularly unusual occurrence, since he’d often stay up late into the night reading a book or listening to whatever classical music record he could find around the house. It, of course, damned him constantly. But he usually was quick enough to pull up to the bus stop just in time to not be left behind.  

That day, though, it seems like he’d pushed his luck to its limit. Being only 3 minutes too late, he watched as the greyed vehicle sped off, a plume of smoke hitting him in the face. Leone knew he was in for it. His father had already left for work, and there was no way in hell he’d come all the way back home just to take his good-for-nothing son to school. Besides, Leone wanted to avoid being berated at all costs, so calling his old man was off the table. He considered biking there but came to his senses quickly at the thought of doing any more physical activity than he’d just done. His only other option was to take his ass back home. So, he picked up his bike, turned it around, and begun walking back down the road.  

Even as a dark red Fiat Uno trudged up the road beside him, he kept his head down and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. If any of his neighbors spotted him, he was sure they’d go flapping their gums to his dad.  

The car drove straight past him, but after a minute or two, Leone heard the sound of tires crunching against the asphalt and lifted his head to see that the car was put in reverse, quickly, and shakily coming back down and stopping next to him. Whoever it was, they were clearly very amateur at driving, if their swerving was anything to go by.  

They quickly rolled down their window, and Leone’s jaw nearly dropped when he saw who it was. Y/N. Well, that explains the subpar reverse job. What the hell was this kid doing? No way he should even be behind the wheel. 

He and Leone locked eyes, with Leone still looking incredibly stunned, and him looking frantic. 

“‘R you late too??”  

Leone took a glance back at the bus stop, then to him again with a small nod.  

“Oh, thank god I’m not the only one—“ Y/N let out an exasperated sigh, and then turned towards the passenger seat, rummaging about. Leone watched on curiously, seeing what looked like a combination of mail and maganzines being tossed into the backseat, before Y/N looked to him again, lips twisted into a smile.  

“Hop in.” He said simply, jutting his head in the direction of the passenger side of the car.  

It was so..bizarre. There was no way he was getting in this guy’s car. ‘ He shouldn’t even be driving it, no chance in hell he’s got a license that’s for damn sure. Besides, I don’t even know him. This could be a ploy, for all I know.’ These were the thoughts racing through Leone’s mind in that moment.  

“Uh..that’s alright I’m just gonna go home..” Leone murmured, turning away and taking a hesitant step in the opposite direction. 

“Dude, come on. I can get us to school on time, I promise. Golden opportunity right here.” He protested, his fingers tapping anxiously against the wheel. He was adamant.  

Y/N’s nervous energy was starting to roll off of him and onto Leone, and he started to become a little paranoid. The longer he stood there, the more likely he was to be spotted by a neighbor. He looked around for a moment, and then back to the car. 

“..Okay..okay, alright—“ Leone turned and walked back up the sidewalk, parking his bike in-between its usual railings at the bus station, and then hustled back down the where Y/N’s car was parked, swinging the door open before fumbling into the seat.  

The two of them looked at each other for a long moment, and Y/N looked sort of proud to have convinced Leone to get in. He gestured to the seatbelt near Leone’s arm, which Leone was more than happy to strap against his body, fearing for his life. He felt like he was sweating with nerves.  

“My name’s Y/N, by the way.”  

Leone couldn’t believe he was being so normal about this.  

“Leone.” He replied, his voice quiet as he slumped down in his seat, fingers clutched around the stiff fabric of his seatbelt.  

Y/N had laughed softly and put the car in drive with a quiet hum.  

“Nice to meet ya’..”  

 ————— 

They shockingly made it to school that day in one piece. Halfway throughout the day, Leone gathered that the reason Y/N was no longer on the bus was because he had started driving. He had no idea how it was possible, nor a single clue how he hadn’t been caught for underage driving yet, but a part of his mind felt oddly relieved about the revelation. Leone didn’t get any shit from his dad that day thanks to him.   

 From that day on, without even asking, Y/N would park at the bus stop every morning and wait for Leone to arrive. Even if he was on schedule and definitely viable to catch the bus, he always offered to drive him anyways. They fell into a sort of routine, and it soon led to them hanging out during lunch time, and occasionally after school to study or go bike riding.  

What an odd first meeting, Leone thinks.  

Without it, though, he wouldn’t be standing where he is now. He lifts eyes to the pair of doors in front of him, golden knobs placed at their center, the oak wood lightly infested with yellow towards the bottom. Leone’s eyes flickered from feature to feature. The mailbox hung on the adjacent wall, the doorbell rested conveniently beside it, the fractioned window arcing above, bricks slightly covered by overgrown weeds. Leone doesn’t know how long he’s been standing here. But he knows that if he continues to do so, Y/N will have probably thought he got stood up. 

So he tentatively raises his pointer finger, shuffling a little closer, and pressing it into doorbell, after which a loud, merry chime rings out, alerting the residents inside.  

It is mostly silent, until Leone hears someone thumping down the stairs quickly.  

Muffled shoutings can be heard from the other side. Leone’s fingers cling to his satchel. 

The door swings open.  

Leone is met with the sight of his friend, a loose-fitting black t-shirt hung over his torso, paired with some basketball shorts that just barely touch his knees.  

“Hey, man.” Y/N says with a light smile, smooth and quiet.   

Leone looks up at him— up at him? Leone glances down to see that the apartment complex was slightly raised by about a few inches of concrete. Jesus.. He looks to him again with a small nod. 

“Hi.” There is absolutely no hiding the crack in Leone’s voice the moment he speaks. He silently curses himself. 

Y/N noticed the break, but doesn’t make one of his snarky comments, simply smiling wider and leaning against the doorframe. 

“What’s with the face?”  

“What face?”  

“You look ghastly.”  

“I always look ghastly.” 

Y/N chuckles and relents, knowing he’s sort of right on that.  

“Fair.” Y/N’s eyes travel down towards Leones bag, likely glossing over the worn leather, and few homemade pins stabbed into it. “Whatchya’ got?” 

Leone looks to his bag too, as if he’d forgotten it was even there, and places a hand over the buckle, tracing over the cool metal with a small shrug. 

“A book..pack a’ cards..oh-“ Leone clicks up the bag, sticking his hand into it, and drawing out a small arrangement of flowers he’d picked up from the store earlier.  

Y/N’s eyebrow raises, and he smirks at the colorful bouquet. 

“For me?”  

“No, idiot, for your parents.” Leone huffs, rolling his eyes and shoving the flowers in his direction, plastic crinkling with the movement.  

Y/N feigns a dramatic looking pout and receives the flowers, sighing.  

“Jeez, and here I thought you really loved me..” He mumbles, twirling the bouquet between his two hands. 

Leone does not know if he’s being serious, and that is a horrifying thought.   

“Shut up..” 

The tense moment is gone as Y/N giggles and straightens up, taking a small step back to make room in the entryway.  

“Alright, fine. Come inside, we’re letting all the cool air out-“ 

Leone shakes his head and begins to step inside.  

“ We ? You’re the one making ridiculous small talk with the door wide open-“ 

“Shhh..” Y/N cuts him off, closing the door with a grin the moment Leone is fully inside.  

God, he hated this guy.   

He sucks his teeth and turns away from his friend, opting instead to look around the interior of his home. Now that he was actually in it…he felt less queasy. It had a rather warm and inviting color pallet..or perhaps it was the lighting that was creating that illusion. The space in front of them was tight, with a steep staircase leading upwards to what Leone assumes is the main floor. Leone can smell that someone is cooking, or perhaps getting ready to, as the aroma of various spices flow gently through his airway as he breathes, along with the subtle scent of linen. He wasn’t hungry before, but he sure was now.  

Y/N begins walking up the stairs, and Leone follows him up, his gaze catching on to the various picture frames hung along the wall. He doesn’t get a chance to truly analyze them, but the majority are just family photos, some new, some much older looking. He does get a glimpse at a wedding photo, but the black and white filter casted over it suggest that those are Y/N’s grandparents rather than his own parents.  

After making it up the first flight of stairs, they make it onto a small landing, only to round the corner and be faced with yet another set of stairs. Y/N keeps on trucking, and Leone has no choice but to do the same, despite his heart starting to beat against his chest. Surely, he’s not that out of shape? Well, it seems when it involves stairs he is.  

 Luckily, another doorway soon comes into view as they breach the second staircase. The moment they reach the top, Leone takes in a deep breath, and he only hopes he isn’t visibly panting with the way he feels right now. The smell of the food from before is definitely much stronger up here, and Leone thinks they must be close to the kitchen. 

Y/N turns to look at him, having been silent the whole time, with a weak looking smile.  

Leone realizes that Y/N is nervous. 

But what for? He guesses for the same reason he is. Stepping into someone’s personal space like this is kind of a big deal. And meeting his family on top of that? It’s all about impressions, on both sides.  

Y/N clears his throat and lifts out a hand, lazily gesturing towards the room they were now in, which Leone concludes is the living room, judging by the furniture.  

“Welcome to my house.”  

 Leone doesn’t move from the spot he’s planted in, and instead looks around from there, twisting his head about and drinking it all in.  

“Bit of a late welcome, isn’t it?”  

“Be glad you got one at all..” Y/N grumbles, clapping Leone on the shoulder, before moving along, weaving between the coffee table and couches as he approaches another doorway.  

Leone laughs softly to himself at his prudent quip, and takes a few long strides over to him, right on his heels. It’s at this point that Leone can hear a stream of babbling and murmurs coming from in front of them, and when he tilts his head to see around Y/N’s, he sees that he’s about to be thrown into his first real encounter..and possibly the worst one.  

“Mama.” Y/N calls out, stopping in the archway as he holds out the bouquet of flowers.  

 When Leone steps to the side, he can see more clearly into what quickly registers as the kitchen. The room is arranged as follows; 

Poised over the stove is a woman of medium height, with curly, almost wavy brunette hair that lays gently across the tops of her shoulders. She’s dressed as one would expect, feet slid into a pair of comfortable house slippers, a taupe maxi skirt with little ruffles at the bottom, a brown mid-sleeve blouse, and an apron tied around her neck. At the moment, she had her nose stuck in a pot, so Leone couldn’t yet see her face.  

To his left, sitting at a round wooden table that took up a quarter of the room was an older man around the same age as the woman. A newspaper was laid out flat in front of him, and he had his chunky fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. A pair of oval glasses were hanging sparsely onto the bridge of his nose, aiding a pair of small-ish eyes, shaded by a deep-set brow. He had a thick horseshoe mustache, the sight of which Leone found irrefutably intimidating for whatever reason. The man didn’t even so much as bat an eye, even though Leone was sure he was in his peripheral. 

“Mama-!” Y/N calls again, and Leone’s eyes drag reluctantly away from the gentleman, back to the woman.  

Her head jolts back as she lifts it from the pot at the sound of her son’s calling, turning towards them with a flustered looking expression. 

‘Oh, good grief don’t you see I’m-“ 

The woman’s words die off as she looks to Leone. Her demeanor almost instantly changes. She has a kind looking face, Leone observes, with sweet brown eyes that match her hair. The frown that had just begun to settle on her face transforms into a charming smile, and Leone feels his eye twitch at how similar it is to Y/N’s. The smile makes her cheeks puff up, painted with a hint of red.  

“Oh, my dear, why didn’t you announce your friend was here?” Even her voice is sickeningly inviting, not so much quiet as it is full of obvious excitement. Leone wants to shrink away from it.  

Y/N is very clearly about to roll his eyes at his mother’s heedlessness but holds himself back from doing so. 

“That’s what I was trying to do, but I guess you couldn’t hear me over the sound of your boiling— whatever it is.” He huffs sarcastically, gesturing towards the pot on the stove.  

His mother narrows her eyes at him and makes a quiet ‘tsk’ sound, looking like she wants to say more, but probably holding out for Leone’s sake.  

She dials the knob down on the stove and takes a step over to them, her gaze turned to Y/N’s hand, where she only now notices the bundle of flowers.  

“Ah!” She takes them from him, and brings them up to her face, taking in a deep breath through her nose. 

Leone has begun to shift from foot to foot, unsure of how to exist in this space.  

“Buonasera, Signora.” He decides, at the very least, to begin with the formalities.  

Y/N’s mother seems to just melt at the greeting Leone gives, and she murmurs something about him being ‘so incredibly adorable’ under her breath as she steps towards him, gently grasping his shoulders and leaning in to place gentle half-kisses on each of his cheeks, to which Leone does the same, though his lips don’t quite touch her skin. When she steps back again, her smile has grown impossibly wider. 

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Leone! Goodness, this almost feels surreal..I have told Y/N one too many times to invite you over throughout the year, I have no idea why he’s waited so long!” 

For some reason, Leone’s heart jumps a little when his mother says his name so casually. It’s not that he didn’t expect her to know it, but the fact that she really— truly does means Y/N must talk about him enough for it to stick. He smiles his ever-so awkward smile, even though it’s coming from a more genuine place than before.  

“Oh, its fine..I’m-I’m glad to be here now.”  

At this moment, Y/N moves away from his side, and instead waltzes over to the stove where his mother had just been, rubbing his hands together as he peers over the pot of goods. Leone nearly laughs. 

“Well, good, because so are we! Oh- goodness, I nearly forgot to introduce myself. My name is Carmelina, and over there is my husband, Gregorio.” She gestures over to the man Leone had been avoiding looking at, and he continues to do so, simply giving a nod of acknowledgment.  

“What’s this you’re cooking?” Y/N speaks up from where he stands, eyeing his mother with a less annoyed smirk.  

Carmelina turns to him, huffing and setting the flowers on the table before she shoo’s him away from her cooking station with both hands.  

“You’ll find out when it’s ready! Move!” 

Y/N just chuckles and puts his hands up in mock surrender, dodging his mother’s hands and taking his place next to Leone again. Carmelina sighs deeply and retakes her post at the stove. Leone has not failed to notice that Gregorio has not spoken even once, nor Y/N to Gregorio. He swallows and traces the buckle on his satchel.  

“Well, you’re welcome to stay for dinner if you’d like, Leone. It’ll be done in maybe an hour or so.” She continues, taking hold of a wooden spoon in her hand and sticking it into the pot, stirring around with practiced movement. 

Leone nods. He was rather hungry, especially for a home cooked meal. Besides, it would be rude to say no.  

“That sounds lovely..” And really, it does.  

She smiles at him and nods, turning her attention back to her task. Y/N steps forward and gives his mother a small kiss to the side of her head, before exiting the kitchen.  

“We’ll be upstairs if you need anything..” He says to her, to which she just hums in understanding. Leone thinks that the affection he shows towards his mother is unexpected, for someone with such a foul mouth and wild attitude. Though the irony does amuse him.  

He turns on his heel and follows Y/N as he leads them back through the living room, passing a bathroom along the way, until they’re faced with another set of stairs. Leone knew it was coming, but he still nearly groans.  

 ————— 

They ascend the stairs yet again, but at least this time it’s a much briefer climb. Y/N turns his head over his shoulder and grins mischievously.  

“‘ That would be lovely, miss. ’” Y/N mocks, trying, and failing to do an impression of Leone.  

“Shut your damn mouth..” He mutters, a scowl set in his features as he pushes him lightly, causing him to stumble. That gets Leone to smile again.  

“Hey-!” Y/N pouts, but quickly recovers from his near fall, scoffing and facing forward, mumbling under his breath.  

As they reach the third floor, Leone is first drawn in by the sound of loud music traveling towards them from somewhere down the hall. Y/N scoffs, and begins moving towards it hastily, and Leone can see a vague look of irritation on his face. They pass a few other rooms on the way there, but he doesn’t really have a moment to peek into them, as he’s more interested in what’s got Y/N so heated.  

At the end of the hall and to their right is the source of the noise. The upbeat rhythm, coupled with the heavy bass and various sound effects reads to Leone as some kind of hip-hop music, but he can’t be too sure, as it’s not really his style. Y/N reaches forward for the handle, pulling it down harshly as he throws the door open.  

“Dude-!”  

Leone’s eyes widen as the now open door reveals a boy, hunched over a desk up against the wall, pen in hand, sketchbook beneath his fingertips. His eyes are fixed on the doorway where the two of them stand now, eyes blown wide. He looks..Just like Y/N. Well, except his hair is much shorter, and he too dons a mustache, though it’s pretty underwhelming in comparison to Gregorio’s.  

“What the fuck? Close the door!” The guy yells back. 

From downstairs, Leone can hear Carmelina shouting ‘Language!’  

Y/N storms into the room, ignoring the guy, and instead going over to a medium sized CD player, cherry red with a matte texture finish to it. He pops the top open, hitting another button that brings the music to an abrupt halt, and then borderline tears out whatever CD had been spinning. Leone takes a small step back from the doorway. He had never seen his friend so blatantly enraged.  

“What did I tell you about using my fucking radio, Gio!?” Y/N turns to shout at the guy again, though it's more like a harsh whisper. Ah..so this is the infamous older brother. Mentioned only in passing, and perhaps only once by name.  

 ‘Gio’ throws his pen down on his desk and stands, the chair tipping back dangerously as he does.  

“Stop bitching! I was just using it for a bit-“  

“Stay outta my room, dipshit!” Y/N spits back, tossing the CD he’d pulled out onto the bed off to the side, snatching up the radio in question and angrily making his way back over to Leone, brushing past him even.  

Gio grunts, rubbing a hand over his face as he sits back down in his chair with more aggression than necessary. Leone stands there, frozen with genuine shock from the scene that had just played out in front of him, mouth partly agape. He turns his head for a moment to see that Y/N has already made his way down the hall, which finally gets him to start turning in that direction.  

“Close the door on your way out.” Gio utters, his hostility turned on Leone now. He doesn’t even have to look at him to know he’s glaring. Leone keeps his eyes on the floor as he reaches forward and feels around for the door handle, pulling the door shut quickly. He breathes out shakily, clutching at the strap of his bag as he makes his way down the hall.  

He feels a little lost now, as he wasn’t able to see which room Y/N had gone into, but he remedies the obstacle by simply looking into the spaces he passes by. It’s only now that he starts to notice just how tight the spacing is up here. He comes across what looks like the primary bedroom, and then another to his right that looks positively empty and is most likely a guest room of some kind. 

Then, he goes a little beyond where the staircase is and looks into another room to see Y/N turned around in front of a twin sized bed, bronze, wire-like framing, and a black comforter tucked haphazardly into its gaps. Leone stands in the the doorway yet again, waiting for his presence to be noted. He didn’t want to overload his friend’s senses, after what just happened.  

He stands there for about 45 seconds, before Y/N lifts his head with a quiet breath and turns to face him with a sullen smile. 

“Sorry about that.” He says softly.  

“It’s fine.” Leone is kind of glad he’s an only child. He can’t imagine how he’d feel if someone went touching his stuff without permission. Probably just the same, if not worse.   

Y/N nods gratefully, and gestures for Leone to come in while he moves around to the side of his bed, leaning forward until he flops onto his front, face pressed into the blankets. He seems to decompress the moment he’s surrounded by the comfort of his own bed. Leone could understand that all too well.  

He steps into the room and closes the door behind him, looking around as he lifts his bag from over his shoulder, and sets it on the floor. 

Y/N’s room is heavily decorated. Well, in comparison to Leone’s anyways. There are posters covering at least 40% of the available wall space, some from popular movies, and the others being rock/metal band paraphernalia, all lazily hung with a combination of duct tape and masking tape. Clearly, he’d never heard of a pushpin.  

The other sections of his wall are adorned with poorly done drawings, depicting various scenarios. Leone wants to assume they are childhood scribbles, but knowing him, they could very well be recent. The furniture in the room is rather common, with a desk off to the right, below a high placed window, a fun-sized bookshelf pressed against the left wall, a tall closet beside it, and two small nightstands positioned on either side of the bed.  

Leone likes Y/N’s room. It feels...lived in.  

He goes over to the bookshelf first, crouching down only to find a collection of various CD cases, some recognizable, and others, not so much. He doesn’t know why he expected actual books to be here.  

“What a wonderful selection of literature you’ve got.” Leone jests, reaching forward and running his finger across the stack of plastic cases, organized by color.  

Y/N grunts from where he’s still lying, until after a moment Leone can hear him shifting to sit up.  

“Sorry to disappoint you Poindexter .”  

 Well, it was good to know he hadn’t completely lost his spirit. Leone grins faintly and stands up again, leaning his hands back against the bookcase as he stares down at Y/N.  

“A little reading could do you some good, moron.”   

At this, Y/N just rolls his eyes, uninterested, and lays back down, though this time on his side.  

… 

“I hope I didn’t throw you off.” He speaks up again, which makes Leones brows furrow.  

“What do you mean?” 

“With Giovanni. I didn’t mean to get so..loud.” 

“I said it was fine.”  

Guilt was clawing painfully at Y/N’s expression.  

“..He won’t quit taking my shit after he broke his radio. I don’t even know how he managed to grab it so quickly, I’d just had it right before you got here..” 

“To be fair, you were dilly dallying a bit.” 

“I was not dilly dallying; I was giving you a warm welcome.” Y/N turns over on his back now, looking up at the ceiling with a frown. Leone wasn’t sure if his teasing was making things better or worse.  

“‘M gonna take a wild guess and say you two don’t get along often.” Leone says, very gently prying as he toes off his shoes, going over to the desk now and taking a seat, looking over the stationary supplies absently.  

“..I guess you could call it that. He’s older, but he acts like such a nuisance half the time..” 

“How many years apart?”  

“Two.”  

“Mm..” Leone picks out a pencil from a metal holder, twisting it between his fingers.  

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about him is all…or me, for that matter..” 

“Since when did you care what I think?”  

Y/N is quiet.  

 Leone turns around in his chair, blinking at him, breath caught in his chest at the sudden silence.  

“I don’t.” Leone can breathe again. “I’m just saying, y’know? I’m not some uptight elitist, I can keep my cool, so long as nobody disrespects me and my possessions..”  

“Uh-huh...well I’m not put off by it, so don’t worry..” All that Leone cares about is making sure he’s never on the other side of Y/N’s hostility.  

Y/N audibly sighs at that, twisting over onto his stomach again, and looking over at Leone, holding his chin in one hand, his other arm folded in front of him. He seemed satisfied with Leone’s acceptance.  

“Whatdya’ wanna do now?” 

Leone had been thinking about it in the back of his mind for a while. Since yesterday, even. “Listen to music.”  

Y/N smiles and gets up, the previous mood shifting instantly to that of anticipation and eagerness.  

“How did I know you’d say that?” He moves over to the bookshelf, reaching down and pulling out a square, those familiar green vines and blackened background sending an excited chill across Leones skin.  

“We never got to finish this..” Y/N mumbles, flipping open the top to his recently rescued radio, and setting the CD inside, closing it back and pressing the ‘Play’ button.  

Leone smiles wide as he begins to hear the first track start up, static noise sounding harsh in the moment, but acting as a preface for the absolute masterpiece to follow.  

“Let’s play cards while we’re at it.” He suggests, looking over to where Leone’s bag is slumped over on the floor. Leone nods immediately.  

 ————— 

They’d been playing Scopa for about 20 minutes now, sitting crosslegged on Y/N’s bed, cards spread out in front of them. Neither of them were taking the game very seriously, more focused on just enjoying the moment. Leone was pleased to find that they had gotten past track 4 of the album with no interruptions this time around. What a god damned miracle.  

“Are you enjoying your visit so far?” Y/N asks, looking away from his hand and to him instead, smiling curiously.  

Leone nods, tucking his hair behind his ear as he bobs his head to the rhythm of the music, eyes closing for a moment. “Uh-huh.” 

Leone liked Y/N’s house. Putting Giovanni out of mind, Leone thought the atmosphere was nothing short of peaceful. He could do so much more here than his own home. Listen to the music he wanted to, laze around, curse, even, as long as it was just between him and Y/N. Didn’t feel like he was being watched, either. It was everything.  

Y/N smiles at his response, and Leone can feel the weight of his gaze lingering. He opens his eyes, staring back, feeling self-conscious now.  

“What?” 

“Nothing.”  

…

“Dude.” 

“I like your hair.” Y/N says with a shrug, as if he were saying something as ordinary as the time of day. It, in fact, was not ordinary, and Leone felt his heart in his throat.  

Y/N must notice the way Leone stiffens, because his smile drops a little, and his eyes fall back to his cards again.  

…  

Leone has to respond. Has to say something...get rid of this building discomfort, its unbearable.  

“..I like yours too.” What the fuck?! Those were the words he was specifically telling himself not to say. He’d said it too sincerely. There was no way he could play it off as a joke. 

Now Y/N is the one freezing up, and Leone can see his lip twitch. Shit.  

But then..Y/N is smiling again. He’s smiling, and he doesn’t look Leone in the eye, but he doesn’t look upset by any means..  

“Is that why you’re always tousling it like I’m some kind of pet?” He speaks. 

Leone actually laughs at that. He did have a habit of messing up his hair, and he doesn’t even know when or why he started doing it. It just felt..right. Even now, he has the urge.  

“..I guess..It’s just instinct..plus it has a nice texture, I can’t lie..” Leone responds, feeling it’s best to be honest now that there was really no turning back.. 

Y/N brings a hand up to his hair, humming as he grabs at a small chunk, rubbing it between his fingers. 

“It is pretty soft, hm?” 

Leone nods. “Must be genetics.” 

“What makes you say that?”  

Leone smirks. “I couldn’t imagine for a second that you actually do anything to take care of it.”  

Y/N rolls his eyes and sets his cards down, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, screw you.”  

Leone chuckles, and gives in to his urges, lifting his hand and letting it rest on top of his head, rummaging through the strands back and forth like one would a dog. Y/N gives a protesting grumble, pushing his hand away only for Leone to put it right back. It catches Leone by complete surprise when Y/N lunges his own hand forward, sticking his fingers through Leone’s hair and mimicking his motions.  

“Quit!” 

“You first, asshole!”  

The two of them laugh hysterically, until Leone feels his stomach start to ache with the effort of said laughing. He grabs at Y/N’s wrist, pulling his hand down. He can feel that his face is unusually warm, but right now he doesn’t even care. Y/N doesn’t try to fight against Leone’s hold this time, and relents, still sneering.  

“My god, now you look like you’ve just stepped off a roller coaster.” Y/N says.  

“Says you!” He huffs a final laugh and let's go of his wrist, not bothering to fix his hair as he falls onto his side against the mattress, his head hitting against a fluffy pillow.  

The bed creaks softly as Y/N lies down next to him, and they’re staring right at each other, faces flushed, hair in a mess, hearts jumping. The background world is fading. Even the music is taking a timeout. All Leone can focus on is the boy in front of him. The one who makes him feel…that’s it, just feel. It’s incredible. And yet..he can’t help the sense of dread nagging at him.  

Y/N blinks and scoots a little closer. Leone doesn’t move.  

 His hand comes up, and Leone gets a feeling of deja vu. Y/N’s hand moves closer, his fingertips grazing against his cheek, Leone shifting beneath the ticklish sensation..And then— 

“Y/N!!”  

The door bursts open, and Y/N quickly sits up, hand withdrawing from Leone so fast he didn’t even have time to process what was happening. Leone can almost feel the color draining from his face. He pushes himself to sit up too, albeit a bit more slowly, looking over to see Giovanni standing there. 

 “What is it Gio? Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to fucking knock??” Y/N says, getting off the bed and standing up now, putting distance between himself and Leone.  

Gio rolls his eyes, hard. “Piss off. Mama’s been calling you for like two minutes.”  

 “Ah?”  

“Music’s so loud you can’t hear her, huh?” Gio doesn’t seem even the slightest bit interested in what he walked in on. His eyes don’t even so much as flicker to Leone. He thinks, for a moment, that perhaps he didn’t see.  

“Whatever. Knock next time, seriously..” Y/N sounds mildly embarrassed, his voice not holding as much gall as it had before. He moves towards the door, gesturing for Giovanni to move out the way. He turns to look at Leone sheepishly.  

“Sorry, I’ll be right back..”  

Leone blinks and nods.  

 With one last glance, Y/N and Giovanni disappear as the door is shut yet again, and Leone is left in the room all alone, music still playing loudly. He swiftly gets up from the bed and goes over to the radio, dialing down the volume with one hand as the other is clutched over his chest.  

What the hell just happened? Better yet, what would have happened if Gio hadn’t showed up? Leone’s stomach was now aching in a more unpleasant way, bubbling with trepidation. Were they about to..? Was he gonna..? There’s no way he was misreading the situation, right? It was clear as day. Unless it wasn’t? Leone felt gross all over again. 

This wasn’t right. Leone was letting his own perversions cloud his better judgement. That had to be it. Y/N wasn’t..into him..he wasn’t into the same sex. And..neither was Leone. He was sure of it. This was all just them getting caught up in the moment…all this proximity and good feels, coupled with the extensive time they’d been spending together all summer long. Surely. To even think his friend was a homosexual was borderline insulting, and Leone felt guilt just formulating the words in his mind alone.  

Leone takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he smoothes his hair out, focusing on the air moving in and out of his system, filling each crevice of his body, and helping him to relax. To regain control over himself.  

He slouches over his knees, folding his arms on top of them and putting his head down. He wishes Y/N would get back already so they could go back to doing normal things, like their card game, and rid Leone’s mind of what had happened.. 

He rubs at his eyes, and is about to lay back against the mattress again, when he feels his foot hit something. Huh... 

He lifts his head, and moves his foot back slightly again, the heel of it tapping against something solid yet again. He leans down, head between his knees as he looks under the bed. It’s little hard to see with the natural light not reaching very far here, but Leone can make out a short cardboard box as the culprit, covered by a dusty blue sheet.  

His curiosity is...screaming at him.  

He moves to kneel down in front of the box and ducks his head down again as he reaches forward, towards the sheet. If Y/N happened to come back now, at least he could lie and say he was looking for one of his cards or something. Part of him knew what he’s doing was wrong, and he shouldn’t be messing with Y/N’s ‘possessions,’ as he calls them, but he doesn’t know what else he should do..  

He pinches the fabric between his fingers and slowly slides it off. It drifts onto the floor, and reveals a stack of books..no, magazines , hidden underneath.  

Oh..definitely not as bad as it could’ve been. Well, he guesses he shouldn’t speak too soon. There was a reason he was hiding them. He pulls the box out a little more, just enough to be able to slip a hand into the box, and he feels around for a bit before grabbing the edge of one of the thin booklets, drawing it out into the light.  

It’s..a fashion magazine. Maybe a little surprising for someone who doesn’t seem too worried about his appearance, but certainly not a crime. Leone would be lying if he said he didn’t find high fashion intriguing sometimes. Perhaps his parents just don’t want him becoming a materialist.  

The tame reveal of the first magazine makes Leone feel a little less apprehensive, and he reaches in again, this time pulling out some sort of comic book. Not questionable in the slightest. 

So he reaches in again, and this time out comes.. 

… 

A Playgirl magazine.  

It’s all in English, but Leone can make out most of the words. Not that he really needed to read anything to know what it was.

Long-haired, ravenette man on the cover, posed seductively, an odd sensuality in the mere placement of his hands.  

It was unmistakably a Playgirl mag.

Leone is...speechless. He takes the magazine into both hands and looks over a second time, thinking surely this is a dream. 

He flips the pages, landing somewhere in the middle. 

He quickly shuts it.  

Not a dream.  

He swallows and starts putting all of the media back into the box, in the exact order he’d found it, pulling the sheet back over it, and pushing it back into the shadows beneath the bed.  

He stands slowly and sits on the mattress again. Every doubt that he’d had just moments ago comes back full force. His friend was a homosexual. There was no excuse Leone could think of now, and even if he could, he’s not sure it’d make him feel any better. His thoughts are racing so fast, he can’t actually hear a single one of them. His hands are beginning to shake.  

Just then, the door cracks open, and Y/N re-enters with a deep sigh. Leone doesn’t turn to him.  

“Sorry, again..my mom wanted me to take care of a few things in the kitchen for her..”  

Leone nods.  

“You hungry? Dinner’s just about ready.” 

Leone wanted nothing to do with food right now. The moment he put something in his mouth, he was sure he’d hack it right back up. But he nods anyway, finally lifting his head to look at him.  

“Yeah...sounds good.” 

Y/N smiles and gestures him over. 

Leone rises, and they make their way downstairs. 

Chapter Text

You and Leone find yourselves back on the second floor of your flat, padding over to the kitchen with him following behind at a small distance.  

You had hated to leave him upstairs all by himself, even though it had only been for a minute or two. The abrupt appearance of your older brother had frustrated you immensely yet simultaneously brought you to your senses. That whole moment on the bed, you and Leone’s faces just inches apart, your fingers against his cheek..you had no idea what had gotten into you. It was all rather rushed, and you had just been going along with whatever movements your brain was putting into motion without much thought.  

It was irresistible, though. He was irresistible; silver locks hazardously thrown about from your teasing it, violet-gold eyes gazing back at you with a glint of subtle interest, and perhaps a bit of apprehension, the apples of his cheeks beginning to take color, a fading smile on his lips. The smooth texture of his skin…It was all too tempting. You didn’t fully understand it all right now, your feelings about him, but you did know that you’d give anything to see him like that again. To be so..close.  

And you’d thought, after not seeing him pull away from your touch, that maybe this was all okay. That maybe Leone has the same inclinations. But when you’d returned to your room after helping your mother slice a couple of sausages, Leone seemed…different. The electrifying, sort-of mysterious excitement from before was completely wiped from his expression. He’d hardly looked in your direction, and you started to wonder if perhaps you’d made a mistake. Or maybe he was just embarrassed at being walking in on by Gio? It was hard to tell, and that alone was enough to flood you with anxiety.  

Were you moving too quickly? Giving into your impulses too much, that’s for sure. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even know where they were coming from.  

The quiet undertones of discomfort followed the entire journey to the kitchen. Leone was completely silent, and each time you turned your head to get a glimpse at his face, he had his eyes pinned to the ground, intensely focused on the patterned tiles. It was more than a display of shyness or nerves…It almost felt like…detachment.  

The smell of dinner is pungent in the air; tomato paste, garlic, onion, sage, all mixing together to develop an aroma that makes your stomach churn that much more. When the two of you reach the kitchen, you take a deep breath and allow yourself to forget about all the stuff with Leone for a moment, plastering a smile on your face just as your mother turns to glance at you, bearing the same expression, though probably more-so at the sight of Leone than yourself.  

“Ah, there you are.” Your mother says with a small sigh. She’s in the middle of scooping a spoonful of beans and sauce into a ceramic bowl, steam rising violently from it.  

“Don’t say it like you were waiting long..” You snicker, shaking your head at her and moving over to the large overhead cabinet to her left, opening it to reveal multiple sets of glassware, the kind your family only used when guests were over. You reach in and grab a few wine glasses, holding them upside down by the stem for efficient carrying.  

You can see that Leone is still standing in the archway, unsurprisingly, but at least now his eyes aren’t glued to his feet, and are instead watching your mother fix up everyone’s portions.  

“Yes, well, I suppose we’re all just feeling a bit impatient.” She replies, stepping around you now as she’d finished setting all the bowls on the table, and is now moving on to slice up a few quarters of bread.  

You hum in understanding and move to the table to start setting out a glass in front of every seat. Your father is still right where he was when you left, thought he’s since put away his newspaper and sits silently with his hands folded in front of him, watching you and your mother maneuver throughout the kitchen. You can’t help but feel frustrated that he hasn’t even lifted a finger to help out, but really, what’s new?  

Gio is there too, assigning a cloth napkin and some silverware to each bowl that had been set out. You weren’t feeling as angry with him anymore, but there was still an unspoken need for space between the two of you, to which you were happy to oblige. The two of you dance around the table to proceed with your individual tasks, the only words spoken between you being an occasional ‘excuse me.’ 

“Why don’t you have a seat, Leone? I’ve just got to slice up this bread, and then we’ll be ready to eat.” Your mother says from behind you. You look up to Leone and see him give a simple nod before approaching the dinner table, looking over the available seats, and ultimately choosing the one closest to the window, a seat away from your father.  

He’s still got that look on his face. After you’ve set out all the glasses, you grab the bottle of Chianti in from the center of the table, coming up beside Leone with a small smile. 

“Want some?” You turn the bottle a little to show him the label. 

You swear he flinches a little the moment you speak. Leones eyes drift slowly up to you, his hands resting on his legs, clutching very lightly at the fabric of his jeans. 

“..Oh..yes, thank you..” 

The politeness of his words, how soft-spoken he had become, even more so than usual, was extremely unnerving. You feel like you’re going to start sweating. He only looks at you a moment longer before his eyes slip away again and fall to the bowl of food in front of him.  

“Yeah, sure..” You reach over and grab the corkscrew from where it had laid next to the bottle, and quickly fish out the cork, your gaze stuck on Leone as you pour the burgundy liquid. You’re surprised you don't spill any.  

“Do you like Fagioli all’Uccelletto, Leone?” Your mother pipes up, an organized tray of bread slices in her hands as she finally makes her way back over to the table. You set the bottle back down in the middle of the table and mentally thank your mother for her interruption of their pitiful silence.  

Leone nods as you pull out the chair next to him, his eyes not leaving your mother even as the chair scrapes the ground when you pull it forward, attempting to get comfortable.  

“Yes, actually..” He says. It sounds like there’s more to his train of thought, but his lips screw shut, and nothing comes.  

Your mother seems to take notice of this, her own eyes flickering over Leone’s expression analytically, as if trying to determine his mood just by looking at him. She accepts his answer with a smile, though, and moves on.  

“Well, that’s good then. I sure hope it’s to your liking.”  

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious.” He replies, though sounding rather flat.  

Your mother appears flattered by the faith Leone seems to have, and she hums proudly. Then, she begins to bow her head, clasping her hands in front of her gently in a silent gesture. Your father can be seen doing the same, then Gio, and finally, Leone, eyes slipping closed with little reluctance. Your eyes remain open, and your head unbowed. Your mother begins to murmur a quiet prayer, thanking God for the food and the blessings He has provided, going on about bringing peace and joy to the household, as well as the rest of the world. You glance around the table as she continues, idly playing with your spoon, shifting it back and forth against the wooden table. Seeing Leone bow his head, for some reason, pained you. You felt...disappointed. Or scared, maybe, about the implications of his actions.

After what feels like an eternity, the prayer ends with an ‘amen,’ from everyone around the table, before they’re raising their heads, and beginning to grab their utensils, including you. You grab for a slice of bread first, other hand picking up the spoon you’d just been playing with, and sticking it into your bowl, gathering a spoonful of the delicious concoction in front of you, and taking a huge bite. 

Your mother huffs from across the table, shaking her head at you with furrowed brows as she reaches for the Chianti. 

“Y/N, mind yourself. You’re being barbaric.”  

Your eyes widen a little, and you cast a glance to Leone, who is staring at you with equally wide eyes, your spoon still halfway shoved into your mouth. In all your fervent hunger, you’d sort of neglected the fact that your friend was sitting right next to you, and that you should perhaps show a little decency. Bad habit.  

But...Leone doesn’t look offended. In fact, he does the absolute opposite of what you could have ever expected in that moment. He lets out a quiet laugh. And God, is it a balm to your soul. It’s so brief, and he turns away right after to grab his own spoon, but it’s everything you’ve needed since you’d left the room. It was proof that he didn’t hate you, at least, and that he was still.. here . You feel a smile of your own start to spread, huffs of laughter coming through your nose as you start to chew your food, cheeks full. You can feel eyes on the back of your head, though, and you turn to see your father gazing at you with a less than amused expression. The moment fades away, and you put your spoon back in your bowl, scooping up a much smaller portion this time. 

“Jeez, I don’t know what I’m going to do with him..does he eat like this at your house too, Leone?” Your mother says, smiling playfully as she begins to eat.  

Leone shakes his head. “..He’s usually very respectful.” 

“Ah? That is unbelievable!” 

“Is not.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “I can be a gentleman and all that..but I’m in my own house right now, what’s the harm in being a bit carefree?” 

Your mother smiles chidingly, but your father does not, speaking in a gruff tone. “It’s rude, Y/N. That’s the harm.” 

You freeze a little at the sound of his voice, face flushing with slight embarrassment.  

“It’s alright. I understand it.” Leone says quietly, taking a sip from his glass. He still doesn’t look at you, but he does sound sincere.. 

No one speaks after that for a good while. You’d wished your father had never said anything, that bastard. The mood was uncomfortable all over again, just when it seemed like Leone was starting to warm up again. All over something as simple as manners...what a nuisance.  Even Gio looks sympathetic towards your cause, shaking his head lightly at the current state of things.  

… 

“So, Leone..” Your mother begins again, being the angel that she is, “How about you tell us a bit about yourself?” 

        ### 

Leone lifts his head from where he’d presently been stirring his food around listlessly at the sound of Carmelina’s question. As if he wasn’t feeling sick enough already. He’d expected this, but he could’ve never anticipated that it would’ve been right after finding out that his friend was actually… On top of that, how the hell was he meant to answer that question? He didn’t have very many hobbies, wasn’t into sports..He hated talking about himself either way. Too much attention. But..he couldn’t just ignore her..so, he swallows down everything plaguing his mind and attempts engagement. 

“Uhm..I like to read..sometimes I write..and..” His voice trails off, and he looks to her with a small shrug. If they wanted to get more out of him, they needed to give him a better lead.  

Carmelina smiles all the same, nodding at his response and reaching for a piece of bread. Leone had still only had one bite of food.  

“That’s wonderful! Is your goal to be an author in the future?” 

This was an easier topic. Leone shakes his head. “No, a Police Officer..” 

Everyone at the table appears to lift their heads a little more at this, save for Y/N who was already aware, and just continues to silently eat.  

“Oh my..really?” 

“What’s got you interested in that?” Giovanni speaks up, which is a bit shocking for Leone. He turns to look at him where he sits next to Carmelina. 

“My dad. He’s in the force.” His voice is quieter.  

“What position?” Gregorio is next to speak, and that damn near gives him a heart attack. He forces himself to look at him, as well.  

“Deputy Commissioner.” 

Gregorio seems both pleased and pissed by the information. There’s envy written all over his harsh already features. Leone wants to feel proud, but he can’t.  

“How prestigious! I’m sure he’ll be very pleased to see his son following in his footsteps.” Carmelina expresses cheerily.  

“Maybe someone will finally be able to put Gio behind bars..” Y/N murmurs against his spoon, which earns him a glare from Giovanni.  

“Would you quit?” Carmelina gestures wildly at Y/N from across the table, wagging her finger disapprovingly. Y/N utters something under his breath, but Leone doesn’t care to listen. 

“…And what about your mother? What does she do?” Carmelina says.  

Leone pauses, the spiral of tomato sauce flattening out in his bowl the longer he remains still. From his peripheral, he can see Y/N pause too, turning to face Leone. Shit. How much worse could this night get? He supposes it’s only natural that they’d ask, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, not with the way his mind is infested with shouting thoughts again.  

“She does international business.” Lie.  

“Is that right? What kind?” 

“Im not sure.” 

“I see…I’ve always wondered about that kind of occupation. Does she enjoy it?” 

“I don’t know.” The sound of clinking and scraping is insufferably loud.  

“Ah, that’s a shame..does she come back often? I’d love to meet her sometime…” 

“She doesn’t.” 

Leone has begun gripping his spoon brutishly, the edges of the metal digging into the skin of his palm. He hardly feels it. But Y/N notices, and he puts his own spoon down, gently setting his hand around Leone’s wrist in attempt to calm him, but Leone jerks his hand away from the touch immediately before he realizes it. He only processes it when he looks up to see the entire table staring at him, including Y/N, hurt written all over his features. Leone’s eyes widen, and his heart sinks at the sight. He..he hadn’t meant to.. 

“I-“ Leone sputters, looking about, setting the spoon down at last, and shoving his hands into his lap. They’ve begun to shake again.  

Carmelina looks concerned, while Gio and Gregorio look outright put off.  

“I’m sorry..” He says quietly, taking a deep breath. “It’s…I don’t like talking…about her.” He reiterates, as much as it pains him to admit it. But it’s so much more than that. In the brief moment that Y/N's hand touched him, the one word that flashed in his mind was..’ unclean .’  

Y/N has since leaned back against his chair, arms folded against his chest as he stares at Leone. This was perhaps the first time Leone had reacted in such a way in front of him. He’d only asked about Leone’s mother once or twice, to which Leone answered the same every time; ‘She hasn’t contacted us in years. I stopped caring a long time ago.’, just to keep him from prying further. It always worked, but of course, Carmelina wasn’t privy to that, and just did what any mom would do when trying to connect with her son’s friend.  

Carmelina lets out a slow sigh, seemingly put at ease by Leone’s explanation, and nods. Everyone else but Y/N goes back to eating. Leone doesn’t bother picking up his spoon either. He had no appetite. 

“I apologize, my dear, I should have considered that..” 

Leone shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”  

She opens her mouth to argue this point, but probably figures it will get her nowhere, and takes on a different topic.  

“Have you got any siblings?” 

“No..I’m an only child.” 

“Mm..well I’m glad you’ve become friends with Y/N then. I hope you can see him as a brother of sorts; it’s nice to have someone by your side..”  

Leone see’s Y/N shifting uncomfortably in his seat at his mother’s words. 

“Don’t put that in his head, Ma. There ain’t nothing good about having a brother. Gio is a thorn in my side.” His attempt at humor is rather weak, and he himself seems reluctant to make it in the first place.  

Carmelina waves him off. “Enough of that, you and him are practically inseparable.”  

Gio seems to perk up at this, scratching at his mustache as he looks to Leone.  

“When we were little, Y/N used to come to my room every night, asking to sleep in my bed because he was afraid of the dark.” It’s meant to make Leone laugh, but all he can manage is a weary smile.  

“Oh, I remember that! I would always wonder how he ended up in there in the mornings.” Carmelina laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.  

Leone doesn’t know exactly what sets him off, but after that, Y/N stands up from his chair. Leone looks up at him in confusion.  

“Please, excuse me.” Y/N says, and before anyone can respond, he’s making his way out of the kitchen, disappearing from Leone’s view within seconds.  

… 

What just happened?  

Had the embarrassment really gotten to him that much? Certainly not...Leone had seen him handle more than that countless times.  

The sudden absence of his friend makes everything a thousand times more awkward. His family are all glancing at each other confusedly, Gregorio even looking a little pissed off.  

Leone would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel an immense pressure lifted off his shoulders now that he was gone. But then he’s moving, and up on his feet.  

“I’ll go check on him.”  

No one stops him.  

          ### 

The moment you exit the kitchen, you make haste towards the staircase, climbing them so fast you nearly trip. Again. When you reach the top, you sit down on the step, leaning forward and resting your arms against your thighs, burying your face into your hands. You couldn’t stay in there a moment longer. You thought you could push through it, but the comment from Gio just made everything snap; nonchalant attitude completely blown away.  

Things would have been fine. Could have been fine. But the moment Leone snatched his hand away from you is when it all started. That feeling of..total despair. He’d never done that before. At least not the way he’d done it just now. You had been trying to comfort him..it was clear how tense and frazzled he was becoming, and you’d wanted nothing more than to bring him back to earth, wherein he was clearly getting into his own head about things.  

You had no idea how sensitive the topic of his mother was, and you hated that you had to find out this way. If..if only you had known, you would’ve given your mom a head’s up or told her to lay off a bit on the questioning. But now it was too late. All the events of tonight were just..coming to a head, and you felt like you were going insane. Felt like you could cry.  

You wanted Leone to be comfortable. Wanted him to like your family. This feeling, this tight feeling that’s lingering in your chest..rejection. You were more affected by Leone’s pulling away than you’d imagined. You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your hands around your ankles, face resting against your knees as you try to breathe everything away.  

The sound of the stairs creaking has you lifting your head right back up, though, and you open your eyes to see Leone standing on the small landing below you, looking up with his arms folded around his middle. The window behind him casts him in a soft blue wash, making his platinum hair look white, and the rest of him like some kind of ghost. It would be a little spooky if you weren’t so caught up in your other emotions.  

Leone takes a small step forward; speaking in a hushed tone. “..Why’d you just leave like that?”  

These were the first real words he’d spoken to him in the last 20 minutes.  

“..I just..Gio was pissing me off..didn’t want a repeat of earlier..” You say, your gaze dropping to the stairs.  

“Don’t lie..” 

You look up. “Im...not?” 

“You don’t even sound like you believe yourself. What’s the matter?” His tone is incredibly firm. It makes you want to tell the truth. And why shouldn’t you, anyways? You wanted Leone to know...to understand , to tell him that you were sorry about everything, to tell him whatever he wanted, as long as it meant he wouldn’t keep acting the way he had been. 

“…You..pulled away from me.” You instantly feel childish at the way your voice sounds. 

Leone’s eyes widen, and he shifts from foot to foot. “..I’m sorry.” 

“Why did you do it?” You follow up immediately.  

“..I just wasn’t expecting it.” These words are completely unsatisfactory and do nothing to soothe you.  

“You’ve never done that before.” 

“Like I said, I don’t like talking about my mom. It’s tough, and I got overwhelmed.”  

It’s vague, but it’s..better.  

“..I’m sorry. I should’ve known..are you alright?”  

“I’m fine.” You don’t believe him at all. He isn’t even trying to hide it, not with that look on his face. Eyes glazed over, lips drawn into a thin line.. 

“Is that the only reason you left?” Leone speaks up again.  

You huff out a sigh and shake your head, brows pulled together as you look away from him. “No..you’ve been acting..weird.” 

Leone is quiet for a long moment. “What do you mean?” 

“Don’t give me that shit, you know what I mean.” You say in a hushed whisper. “You’re being so quiet and..hardly even glancing in my direction. I get you might be nervous but..things seemed better earlier.” 

You pause and shake your head, emotion starting to cloud your throat.  

“Did I do something wrong?” You finally look to Leone again, seeing his wide-eyed stare, hands now resting at his sides.  

… 

“No..” 

“So then why?”  

Leone breaks eye contact. “I’ve just..been thinking about earlier..in your room..” 

Your stomach drops. You’d speculated it was something like that but hearing him actually say it was kind of horrifying. 

“Oh..” 

“It just..caught me off guard.”  

“I’m really sorry. I was- it was just a Spurr of the moment kind of thing..” 

“..I thought so.” The tone of his voice suggests otherwise.  

“..Does it bother you when I touch you?” 

“Huh?” 

“Like..is that just not your thing? I guess I’ve never really asked.” You were starting to think of his moment at the table again.  

“..It doesn’t bother me..just— this time was different.”  

You don’t really know what he means by that, and you’re scared to find out, so you just accept this with a nod. It’s quiet for another moment.  

“Just tell me..if you ever don’t want me to.” 

Leone nods.  

“..Wanna go back downstairs?” 

He looks to you, a conflicted expression on his face. “..Actually..its getting late..I should probably head home.”  

You’re disappointed by his answer, but at the same time it’s clear that this evening has been extremely taxing for the both of you, and it’s probably for the best.  

“..Yeah, okay..I’ll get your bag and shoes..” You stand up from the ledge you’re sitting on, and turn to begin walking up the stairs, not bothering to wait for Leone to acknowledge you. But you can hear the stairs creaking softly again as he goes back down to the main floor to wait for you. 

You push your bedroom door open, moving over to your bed and collecting all the cards that had gotten scattered around, sliding them back into their packaging, and subsequently back into Leones bag. Everything about the conversation you’d just had felt..wrong. Sure, it was enough to get you to calm down, but things still weren’t quite right.. 

You grab Leone’s shoes from behind the door and make your way out into the hall again, not wanting to waste any more time brooding then necessary. You would have plenty of time to do that when Leone left. Moving quickly down the stairs, you can see that Leone has been approached by your mother, who looks as worrisome as ever. Her hand is placed on his shoulder, Leone looking less tense himself, you assumed it was because he was relieved to be going. You only catch the tail end of the conversation. 

“—glad you two are alright..Ive never seen him act like that before..” Your mother’s voice trails off as she sees you come down the stairs, and she visibly relaxes at the sight of you. 

“Oh, my dear..” She coos, moving from Leone and over to you instead, taking your face in both hands and leaning up to kiss your forehead.  

“I’m fine Mama...” You say quietly, reaching up to grab her wrist and lightly tugging her hand away from your face with a small smile. As bothersome as she could be sometimes, you loved your mother. She was selfless and caring, way too much for her own good.  

She seems satisfied with your words, and nods, slowly pulling away.  

“I’m just gonna see Leo off, okay? I’ll be back to finish dinner in a moment.” You say this, but you weren’t really feeling up to eat any more, even though you had been enjoying the food.  

She nods and sighs, waving at Leone as she begins to turn away. “It was nice meeting you, Leone. Get home safe, alright?”  

Leone nods. “Thank you for having me over.”  

Your mother gives one last smile to him before walking back over and into the kitchen, where you can already hear her starting up a conversation with Gio. You smile faintly and look to Leone, silently handing him his shoes and satchel, which he takes with a quiet thanks. The moment he has his shoes on, the two of you step out onto the porch, and you close the door behind you.  

Outside, it’s almost pitch black, the only light source being the streetlamp across the road, and the glow of the half-crescent moon. The air is scarcely threaded with moisture, but it’s combatted by a gust of wind that tunnels through the narrow street, blowing Leone’s hair every-which way as he steps down onto the concrete slabs in front of the door, with you following after. The murmur of crickets can be heard echoing around you, chirping incessantly. 

Leone lifts his bag and crosses the strap over his torso as he turns to look at you.  

“..I had a good time.” You cringe on the inside. 

“Good. So did I.” 

“..Will you tell your father I said goodnight?” 

You certainly would not. “Yeah, of course.”  

Leone nods gratefully and goes over to the gate where his bike had been parked, kicking up the stand and lifting it up, turning it in the proper direction.  

“Leone.”  

He seems alarmed by the sound of you calling him by something other than his nickname, his eyes looking to you cautiously. 

“Let’s go shopping tomorrow..” You wanted to rid yourself of the bad taste this entire evening had put in your mouth. Wanted things to go back to normal.  

Leone seems at ease, seems like he’s wanting the same thing you do. “I’d like that.”  

A smile, one that feels real, crosses your face at his agreement, and you nod.  

“Good night, then..” Leone says, starting to walk his bike in the direction of his house.  

You wave, already stepping backwards as you twist the door handle.  

“Goodnight.”  

          ### 

The moment Leone steps into his house, he’s kicking off his shoes and rushing up the stairs, stumbling into his room and shutting the door behind him. The slam is loud, and he can tell he’ll probably get a complaint from his father in the morning, but it was out of his control now. His heart was aching and pounding erratically in his chest, and for a moment he thought he might pass out. The ride home had been extremely satiating, but now that he was alone again, the only thing he could do was reflect. And boy, did he reflect.   

Images of that magazine were at the forefront of his mind. Those eyes. Those lips. Hands, hips, abs, chest, all of it. It was like a torture cycle, making his mind spin this way and that. Leone clutches his palm against his heart, as if that will get it to calm down, and then presses the back of his hand to his cheek. His skin was absurdly warm, hot almost, and he could feel a sweat starting to work up on his forehead the more he lost control of his breathing. Leone wanted so badly to rid himself of these thoughts. The lingering curiosity. The desire to go back to Y/N’s house, and flip through those pages one by one, and absorb each and every photo. Even worse; the absolute need to feel his hands on him again.  

Y/N was gay. Leone felt he might be, too.  

It disgusted him to no end.  

Leone shakily pushes himself away from the door, going over to his bedside dresser and hunching over as he snatches it open, sticking a hand inside and rummaging around, resorting to the only thing he has at this moment. He feels his fingers graze against a string of beads, and he quickly pulls it out, shutting the drawer and almost tripping over his rug as he moves over to his window, flinging the glass panes open, and taking a deep breath of the night air, warm but crisp, yet suffocating all the same.  

Leone drops almost violently to his knees, compelled by the weight of his own mind…his own sin. He curls into himself, nose pressing against his thighs, hands clasped tightly in front of him, so much so that he can feel his bones beneath clammy flesh and burning skin. Between his palms lies a rosary, jaded with indigo beads that press against him bruisingly. The thick metal cross lays against his knuckles, sterling silver acting as a coolant against his skin. He’s shaking.  

He sits up and looks out the window, before shutting his eyes tight, and bringing the beads up; up to his forehead, across the length of his shoulders, and back down to his center. He began to murmur in the dark of his room, 

‘In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit..’  

Leone had never prayed like this. Never on his own.  

‘Blessed art thou among women, and Blessed is the Fruit of The Womb, Jesus..’  

He barely remembered the words now.  

‘O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will proclaim Your praise..’  

He began to feel his eyes sting with tears and hid his face between his knees again.  

‘Incline Your aid to me..’  

A depiction of Y/N crossed his mind.  

‘O Lord, make haste to help me..’  

Leone began to sob quietly, clenching his jaw as he forced himself to go on.  

‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son…and to the Holy Spirit..’  

The moment the last few words leave his mouth, he repeats the Sign of the Cross, and the beads slip from his hands, onto the floor. He feels..oddly relieved. An illusion of renewal that he knows won’t last, but will put him at ease at least for tonight. Leone swipes the tears from his face, and cards his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes and taking another deep breath, filling his lungs and letting it fizzle out.  

..Calm..he feels calm. The image of Y/N is still flickering before him, but it appears more as a dying light than anything.  

Leone gets up from the floor slowly, taking the rosary along with him as he goes to sit down on his bed. The exhaustion is finally starting to catch up to him. He sets the beads down on his dresser, listening to their quiet clattering, before laying down against his mattress, shuffling beneath the covers and shutting his eyes, not even concerning himself with getting changed into pajamas.  

His mind was clear of impurities.  

That’s all that mattered now.  

Chapter Text

This was the plan, as they had discussed that morning (Y/N rang him at about 10am. Leone’s father was not pleased.); 

Y/N would arrive in his car at around 12pm. Leone would lie to his father and say that Carmelina was the one driving, and then the two of them would drive to the outlet mall in Val di Chiana to go back-to-school shopping…despite the fact that Y/N admitted to only having about 3,000 lira. According to him, it was all the chore money he had saved throughout the summer. Meanwhile, Leone’s father had spared him 10,000, telling him to ‘purchase something presentable.’ The fact that his father thought he’d get anything besides that was simply laughable.  

In all his years since primary school, Leone minimally went school shopping, let alone with someone else...besides the occasional trips with his father to buy writing utensils or notebooks. Clothes shopping wasn’t really his thing, but when they’d talked earlier, that’s all that Y/N seemed interested in. It was as if he already knew he wouldn’t be putting any effort into school, which Leone found both concerning and hilarious.  

He knew, though, that Y/N was a good student, even though he pretended not to be and went out of his way to complain about how much he detested school every chance he got. It was blatant irony; the guy got high marks in nearly all his classes, worked like a dog to keep his grades up, but became lethargic and pissy any time the topic was brought up. And so, the front that he put up was practically transparent in any case, because Leone knew at the end of the day that Y/N couldn’t become an academic bum if he tried.  

But he was adamant about the clothing, and Leone figured there would be other times to buy stationary, and agreed to go on this little spree. There were 3 days until school started. 3 days before the cycled repeated. Leone wondered if it would be different this year, now that he was starting off the year with Y/N rather than meeting him along the way. Would they have any classes together this time around? Would they still see each other in the cantina?  

He was still thinking about last night, too.  

When he’d woken up that morning, he had been subjected to sore, stiff eyes, and a headache teetering the edge of being a full blown migraine. The rosary beads were gilt beneath the morning sun that slipped through his open window, that of which he had mistakenly forgotten to close before falling asleep, and he had slowly returned them to their place in the far back corner of his drawer. He didn’t know whether or not he regretted taking to prayer. In the moment, it felt right, and it did succeed in alleviating his mind after all, but he had never really clung to his Catholic faith.  Had a complicated understanding of it. He supposes, though, that it was a necessary leap to take. Perhaps this was the perfect time to get serious about it.  

And yet..  

…  

He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Leone stands from where he’d been laying across the length of his bed, and turns to his nightstand, peering down at the small plastic box that was his alarm clock, the red sticklets flashing the numbers ’ 11:45’. Y/N would be here soon enough, and Leone was more than ready to put a start to this day. He was determined for things to go back to normal. He desperately wanted the rest of this dwindling summer to Be. Normal. He grabs his shoes from under his bed and makes his way downstairs.  

 ————— 

Much to Leone’s surprise, Y/N managed to pull up at exactly 12 o’clock, a new personal record for him. His serial lateness was largely infuriating, so Leone was glad that he was making a bit of progress on that. Leone had been waiting by the window, watching the street in front of his house like a hawk, and simultaneously behind him to where his father was lounging in the sitting room, reclined against his armchair with a cup of coffee and that book he’d been working at for what felt like ages.  

He’d looked out when he saw a red streak pass in through the narrow road, and knew it had to be Y/N. He slung his bag over his torso and turned to his father, giving him a small nod, even though his eyes were still glued to his pages.  

“I’m heading out, now.” He said 

“Don’t get wrapped up in any trouble.” Is what his father replied with, his usual response whenever he was going out. There was really no need for him to say anything else anyways. Leone knew to get home at a reasonable time, and to stay away from strangers, and all that other crap that’d been drilled into him his entire youth. Leone just nodded again and made his way into the foyer, and out the door.  

He stood now, in front of Y/N’s car where he had parked a few paces up the road just in case Leone’s father decided to look out the window at the last moment and possibly see his friend casually behind the wheel. It was both ridiculous and sort of smart at the same time. Y/N was paying his surroundings no mind and didn’t even realize that Leone was standing at the passenger side, waiting for him to unlock the door. Leone rolled his eyes and raised his fist, lightly rapping at the window to get his attention. He jolted and quickly turned his head towards the sound, face brightening the moment he lays eyes on Leone.  

The sight of his face is still making Leone feel on edge.   

He waves to Leone, and then as if coming to his senses, finally unlocks the doors, allowing Leone to pull it open and slide inside. It was a damn miracle he hadn’t been hit by a car, with how long he was just standing in the street.  

“Hey Leo.” Y/N speaks first, just as Leone shuts his door and leans back against his seat with a quiet sigh. The AC was blasting, and it was a great relief.  

“Hey.” 

“Ready to get this show on the road?”  

“It’s too early for your corniness.” Leone grumbles, though he finds himself smiling faintly as he reaches for his seatbelt, clicking it into place.  

Y/N laughs, and Leone feels like he hasn’t heard the sound in ages...it makes his skin tingle a bit. At least he seemed to have fully recovered from last night’s fiasco, his demeanor as upbeat as ever. Leone was grateful.  

“Whatdya’ mean? Noon’s the perfect time to screw around.” He retorts, pulling at the stick shift and throwing the car into drive, the engine electrified with sudden life, filling the space with a quiet murmur.  

Leone raises his eyebrow and shakes his head at this nonsense, watching his house start to disappear from the window’s view. “What the hell does that even mean?” 

“Well, know like..by noon, everyone’s had their breakfast and coffee..-grumpiness completely done away with..” He turns to look at Leone briefly, a small smirk appearing on his face. “Though I guess you are the exception.” 

“I’m not.. grumpy , I’m just a little tired, that’s all..” 

“Ah, no? You’ve got your arms folded like you don’t wanna be here.” Y/N snorts, taking a hand off the wheel to gesture at Leone. 

He looks down to see that he is, in fact, crossing his arms against his chest in what could be read as defensiveness. Leone huffs, and sinks a little further into his seat, looking out the windshield. 

“Shut up, that’s just my default..”  

Y/N laughs at this, amused, and focuses his gaze back on the road. This was going to be the longest 30 minutes of Leone’s life.  

“..What kept you up last night? You seemed pretty dead-beat when you left my place.”  

Leone’s eyes cut to Y/N briefly, and he pulls his arms a little further around his torso. Now it really was in defensiveness.  

“..Adrenaline.” 

“Ah..from the ride home..” 

Leone nods in confirmation. It wasn’t technically a lie, since the bike ride back to his house did wake him up a bit. Y/N didn’t seem to suspect anything, anyways.  

The car falls silent after that, and leaves Leone reflecting again as he looks out the window beside him, propping a leg up on the dashboard.  

‘Should I tell him what I saw..?’ Leone pondered. ‘Should I tell him..that I..know ?’   

He didn’t know if doing either would truly accomplish anything. How does one even start a conversation like that? ‘Hey I saw your porn magazine, what’s that all about?’ Certainly not. Y/N’s reaction could go one of several ways, most ending in either extreme embarrassment for the both of them, or an argument of sorts. Leone didn’t want any of that...even though keeping it hidden was eating him alive from the inside out, he didn’t want to ruin anything. It’s not like he didn’t still see Y/N as his best friend it was just—different now.. 

He glances over at Y/N, the totally unsuspecting excitement on his face. He was focused on the road, but his lips still held a phantom like smile, as if the muscles in his face couldn’t stand to be at ease. Leone was so utterly confused with himself, it was daunting. He shouldn’t care about his friend’s orientation, right? Even though it was a disgrace, he could ignore it, yeah? But he couldn’t. Especially not when he was at the center of Y/N’s affections.  

Leone bites down on the inside of his cheek. There was no one he could turn to for guidance about this. Except maybe God, but he didn’t know if he could face Him again so soon. Last night had been jarring enough. The only person he trusted enough to talk to was Y/N.  

He decides to keep quiet about it after all.  

 ————— 

After (what feels like) an eternity of driving in relative silence, minus the occasional comment from Y/N about the scenery, or them humming along to a CD he’d put in, they finally arrive at the shopping center. They park at the far end of an enormous parking lot, endless rows of cars spanning out in every direction. The moment Y/N turns off the car and begins stepping out, the reality of hellish heat hits them all at once, swarming the once cool space of the car and making Leone groan quietly. He was so ready for summer to be over. Even though he enjoyed the warmth of the sun in moderation, he preferred the mild temperatures of Autumn, especially since he didn’t have to worry about being sunburnt.  

The two of them exit the car, and Leone shuts his door to see Y/N staring out to the left, facing the entrance to the outlet mall, a huge banner-like sign arching over the walkway with the words ‘Valdichiana Outlet Village’ in a bold, sophisticated font. A couple of name brand stores can be spotted already through the gaps between the short, terracotta walls, most of which are surrounded by shrubbery of various hues and volume, tying into the overall theme of elegance.  

“Er…is this the right mall..?” Y/N says quietly, scratching his head as he moves to lean against the hood of the car, clearly off put by the affluence radiating from this place. 

Leone laughs a bit, shrugging his bag over his shoulder and walking up next to him with a shake of his head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. What’sa matter? Not what you expected?” 

Y/N snuffs and turns to Leone with an unamused expression. “The most I can probably afford from this place is a god damned belt.” 

“Don’t be dramatic..we’ll just go to the cheap stores.” Leone pats his shoulder, smirking casually, and begins walking towards the entrance. 

“You calling me a cheapskate?” Y/N feigns offense with a scoff, pushing off of where he’s leaning and falling in step with Leone.  

“Well, let us consult the state of your wallet..”  

“Screw you!” He shoves Leone’s shoulder, making him tip to the side. 

Leone snickers and pushes him back. This was fine... He liked this.  

They make their way into the outlet, where an old looking water-fountain is planted as a center piece, angels and the like pouring water from chalices and things of that nature. There’s gentle music being played over some speakers that can’t be seen, keeping shoppers relaxed and somewhat excited. Leone doesn’t get a good chance to really take in the scene, because he’s quickly being dragged off by the arm into a store already by Y/N, catching him off guard and nearly causing him to trip over his own feet. Once he does regain his footing though, they step into a rather plain looking men’s store that smells vaguely of plastics and woodsy cologne. Nothing particularly stands out, with most of the racks housing typical summer clothing; colorful short-sleeved button ups, t-shirts with beach related graphics, and the occasional lightweight long sleeve button up that one would really only use as a cover-up in this kind of weather.  

Y/N still hasn’t let go of Leone’s arm yet and is presently dragging him towards the back of the store, where all the bottoms are located, shorts and jeans for the most part. He finally let's go when he gets to a display of cargo jeans, his eyes lit up with interest as he starts shuffling through the hangers.  

“This is what you nearly got me killed for? Some shorts?” Leone huffs, crossing his arms against his chest as he watches on, eyeing some of the pants as well.  

“I’ve been dying for a new pair. I get so bored with these.” Y/N gestures to the pair of jean-shorts he’s wearing currently, the dark blue appearing washed out and tattered at the hems. Leone could agree that he’d seen enough of them this summer for a lifetime, so he supposes he’s got a good point.  

Leone sighs quietly and steps up next to him, starting to look through the rack as well, stopping when his eyes settle on a pair of black cargo’s.  

“‘Like those?” Y/N says, lifting his head briefly to look at Leone. 

“..I dunno..”  

“I think the black would be pretty sick if you style it properly.” 

“..I guess I have always wanted to try darker colors..” Leone murmurs. He usually steered towards neutral colors, but in recent times, with his increasing interest in rock and metal (thanks to Y/N), he wondered what he’d look like in something...edgier.  

Y/N seems to become sparked with a new energy at Leone’s words, and Leone watches as a familiar mischievous smile glides across his face.  

“What?” 

“You should let me shop for you.”  

“Absolutely not.” Leone frowns.  

“Dude, seriously! Listen, I know all about this stuff. I can turn you into the goth man of your dreams!” Y/N argues, sounding like a whiny toddler and making Leones frown pull that much further downwards.  

He remembers the fashion magazine. And then the—no. Not now. Leone looks to the shorts again, and then to Y/N, and then to the shorts again with a deep sigh.  

“..If you make me look like a clown, I swear I’ll kill you.” Leone reluctantly agrees. Y/N, as if hardly even hearing his words, pumps his fist in victory.  

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. You’ve seen my awesome outfits before, no?” 

He had a point. Y/N had a unique sense of style, at least during the school year anyways, taking inspiration from early gothic fashion and making them low-key enough to where he wasn’t a complete outcast, though he did still get strange looks from time to time. Leone didn’t really care if he’d be subjected to that. He wanted to feel as cool as his friend often looked.  

Leone nods. “I’m trusting you with this.”  

“I’ve got so many ideas already.”  

 ————— 

The two of them went from store to store, Y/N being the lead, checking out every black article of clothing they could find, and even some grey or white if It had the right vibe. Y/N had a critical eye and was very particular about what he considered worthy and unworthy. He didn’t want Leone looking too basic, but also didn’t want him to have a huge target on his back either. It was harder than Leone imagined, fitting between those narrow guidelines. They were lucky enough to score some base pieces which Y/N said they could just ‘modify’ later on, which was apparently a common practice.  

They’d hit the jackpot, though, when they came across a store that did seem to lean towards a more alternative audience, adhering less to the cheery summer vibes that other shops had taken on, and instead carrying clothes with wild patters, cuts and colors. When they’d walked in, they were greeted by a woman who looked to be just a few years older than them, who had vibrant red hair, one side shaved down to a buzz, and a series of facial piercings. They both thought she looked cool as hell, not to mention friendly. A familiar sounding rock song was playing over the speakers, only making the space feel all the more comfortable.  

They spent the most time in this store, browsing around the accessories and statement pieces. They even had a wall of posters for purchase, which Leone had to literally shove Y/N away from after he practically started drooling. As they were looking through the shirts on sale, Leone’s hand stopped on what he thought was the most astonishing piece of clothing he’d ever seen. Y/N was standing behind him, turning to look over his shoulder as he pulled it from the rack.  

He held the hanger up to show a midnight black long sleeved shirt, with a v neckline. But that wasn’t all. The v-neck in question was split down the center, three silver eyelets punctured on either side, each one looped through with lilac Paracord, creating two sets of X’s, lacing the shirt up like a corset.  

From behind him Y/N let out a quiet ‘oh my god,’ and Leone would’ve said the same if he wasn’t so speechless. It was...perfect. He blinked and stared at it a little longer.  

“You’ve got to try it on, Leo.” Y/N spoke with a certain firmness to his voice, like he wasn’t really making a suggestion at all.  

He turns to look at him, then back at the shirt, brows furrowed in contemplation. “I..” 

He doesn’t even have a rebuttal. He absolutely had to try this shirt on, no way he was leaving without doing that at least. Leone nods.  

He makes his way to the far corner of the store, where the kind woman gives him the key to a dressing room. Y/N stands waiting outside, giving Leone a small smile of encouragement as he starts to disappear behind the door, shutting it with a quiet click. The dressing room isn’t very vast, only allowing enough space for one to take about two steps in each direction before hitting a wall. Leone didn’t really think much of it though. He saw his reflection staring back at him and swallowed a bit. His heart was pounding softly. He was strangely nervous about this. Perhaps because he was so desperate for the shirt to look good.  

He hangs it up on the one hook provided, and begins to pull off his current shirt, the dark blue fabric falling to the floor silently. He grabs the new shirt off the hanger, and quickly puts it over his head, blinded for a moment as he shimmy’s it down, arms slipping into their proper place within the sleeves. Once it rested comfortably against his skin, Leone slowly lifted his head to the mirror.  

His eyebrows shot up in shock. It was just as good as he’d hoped…He raises his hand and takes a step closer to the mirror, his fingers brushing across the cord bracketing his chest. It created a window of skin--or a valley rather--that stopped just a few inches below his collarbone.  It was almost like a tease of sorts, made him feel kind of…vexatious, yet it wasn’t revealing enough to be considered ‘inappropriate..’ He took a deep breath and stepped back again..smiling. Perhaps his father wouldn’t approve, but he could always just wear a shirt underneath to cover up a bit if that was the case.  

Leone fixes his hair a bit, as it had been sticking up from his rushed dressing, and turns to open the door, looking to see Y/N still standing there, two belts in his hands that he’s looking over analytically.  

“Y/N?” Leone calls, and he hates that he sounds so damn shy, but it can’t be helped.  

His friend looks up, attention completely drawn away from the belts as his gaze settles on Leone. He can see his jaw drop a bit.  

“Holy shit Leo.” 

Leone’s heart thumps. 

“Dude, it’s literally perfect..! I can’t believe you scored this!” Y/N sets the belts on a rack behind him and walks up to Leone, putting his hands on his shoulders and shaking him excitedly.  

Leone can’t help but smile again, feeling his ego being fed a bit.  

“I know, right? I love it.” Leone looks down again, holding the edge of the shirt with one hand while the other traces against one of the eyelets at the collar.  

Y/N takes a step back and hums in agreement, and Leone notices the way his eyes linger on his chest for a moment. He feels both elated and unnerved.  

“How much does it cost? You gonna get it?” Y/N questions, smiling casually as he moves back over to grab his belts.  

Leone hadn’t even checked the price tag, but he didn’t think it mattered now anyways. He lifts his arm and grabs the tag from under the sleeve, looking over it briskly. Well, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t afford, that’s for sure.  

“Obviously I’m going to buy it. I’ll be damned if I leave this masterpiece here for someone else to take.” He huffs, turning back into the dressing room and shutting the door. He can hear Y/N cackling outside and saying something about him being ‘dramatic,’ to which Leone just rolls his eyes and goes on to put his own clothes back on.  

They eventually make their way to the register, where Leone buys the shirt, along with a pair of boots he’d happened to spot, meanwhile Y/N purchases one out of the two belts he’d picked up, and an arrangement of bracelets. They leave the store feeling more than satisfied, and Leone can’t even complain about how crowded the walkways are anymore, because he’s just in that good of a mood.  

As they’re walking down towards the far end of the strip, Y/N turns to him, putting an arm around his shoulder.  

“Alright now listen..clothes aren’t the only thing you need to be as cool as me-“ Leone rolls his eyes. “-There’s another essential step.” 

“..And what ever could that be?” Leone raises a brow.  

“It’s makeup, of course.” Y/N says plainly, nodding at his own words.  

“I’m not gonna let you paint my face like some pansy.” Leone mutters. 

Y/N’s face screws at this, and Leone regrets his choice of words immediately. He truly hadn’t meant it in..that way.. 

“Shut up, dickhead, I was talking something more simple.” Y/N bounces right back, and Leone believes for a moment that perhaps he wasn’t offended.  

“Like what?”  

“Y’know like how all the guys are doing it these days..just a bit of eyeliner.” Y/N clarifies, lifting a finger and gesturing at his eyes.  

Leone relaxes a little now, understanding the look he was talking about now.  

“My dad would kill me.” 

“And mine wouldn’t?”  

“…Touche.” 

Y/N laughs, and his arms unravels from around Leone’s shoulders. “I’m gonna teach you all the tricks about being discreet, so don’t worry about it.”  

Leone didn’t mind a little rebellion here and there. He nods.  

————— 

They find themselves inside a department store, which was considerably bigger than the previous shops they’d been in. There are people spread all about, kids running around and screaming incessantly about things they ‘must’ have to their parents. Just a generally distressing environment. Its smells like cheap perfume all around, blaring scents of vanilla, lavender, and citrus all blending together into something Leone considered intoxicating. Y/N appeared to share the same opinion, pinching his nostrils between his fingers as they trudged to the left side of the store, where all the makeup was out on display. 

Several cases were lit up with LED’s, advertisements with close-up shots of women’s faces plastered all over, trying to draw in one naive customer after another with promises of having the ‘creamiest’ or ‘most pigmented’ product. Leone was starting to get a bit nervous. It’s not like anyone here would recognize him, but you could never be too sure.  

Y/N is the opposite, wearing a neutral expression as he taps his chin, looking around at various vials and tubes of eyeliner, picking a few up and inspecting them. Leone just stands at his side, glancing to the side every so often to make sure no one was giving them weird looks.  

“Hmm..which do you think you’d prefer, Leo, gel or liquid?” 

“I have no idea what you’re saying.” Leone says, exasperated. 

“Uh—right, okay, ill just get you gel for now..its easier to get the hang of..” Y/N sets down a few of the products he’d grabbed, but keeps hold of one, ushering Leone to follow him, which he does with a questioning look.  

They go behind one of the display cases, where no one else is currently standing around, a small mirror in front of them from where it’s bolted to the shelf. Y/N starts to peel off the wrapper sealing the makeup, and Leones eyes widen.  

“Woah, what the hell are you doing?”  

Y/N doesn’t stop and rather keeps on tearing away the packaging as he looks up to Leone.  

“What? We’ve gotta try it to know if you like it or not.” He says simply.  

“You can’t just—open up something like that!” 

“Why not? I do it all the time. It’s not like I’m stealing it.”  

“Okay, yeah, but it’s still indecent.” 

“Is it against the law?” 

“…No…” 

“Then stop complaining..” Y/N snorts and shoves the frayed plastic into his pocket. He uncaps the product, and the two of them are greeted with a fine-tipped point just barely peeking out over the edge of the tube. Y/N smiles and gestures for Leone to step closer. Leone does so, hesitantly. Y/N puts a hand to his shoulder and leans in a little, lifting the eyeliner slowly to Leone’s face. 

“Alright, hold still..” Y/N whispers, his pinky finger cushioning against Leone’s cheek as he moves the liner forward, lightly dragging it against his waterline. Leone blinks and partly flinches at first, having something so close to his literal eyeball like this, but he doesn’t want to make it worse by moving, so he attempts to remain still as instructed.  

“I swear to god if you stab my eye..” He mutters under his breath, giving Y/N a halfhearted glare. Y/N only laughs and continues his practiced movements.  

“Relax..” He replies, and the smooth, gentle tone of his voice makes Leone do so unintentionally.  

He was trying to look anywhere but into his eyes, but that was practically impossible with how close he was. Leone’s hands grip tightly at the shopping bags he’s holding as Y/N moves onto the other eye, getting closer. Leone can feel a slight tingling, and an urge to scratch his eyes, but he sucks it up for now. It would be worth it, he hoped.  

Finally, Y/N leans back with a satisfied smirk at his own handiwork, and caps the eyeliner, before turning Leone by the shoulders to face the tiny mirror.  

“Ta-da!”  

Leone blinks back at his reflection. ‘Is that really me?’ Was his first thought. The pitch black eyeliner was an interesting compliment to his ombre eyes, the gold and violet somehow emboldened even further. He lifts his fingers to his face and leans into the mirror a little more, pulling at his skin to see the stripe of black a little better.  

“I look..intimidating.” As if he weren’t enough already.  

Y/N nods. “Hell yeah you do. But in a good way.”  

Leone couldn’t help but agree.  

“Hold on—stay there I’ve got something that’ll make it even better- “Y/N says quickly, and before Leone can say anything else, he’s already disappearing behind another set of display shelves. Leone just scoffs and returns his gaze to the mirror, where he keeps on checking himself out.  

About a minute later, Y/N returns, holding something in an enclosed fist with that typical devious smile across his face.  

“What’ve you got now, huh?”  

“Don’t worry about it, just close your eyes.”  

“What the fuck?”  

“Just do it.”  

Leone does not like where this is headed. But he closes his eyes, his foot tapping against the floor as he waits. He can hear the faint sound of Y/N ripping open another plastic wrapping, and he scoffs quietly, at which he can hear Y/N chuckling under his breath. It’s silent for another long moment, and he gets a little scared that Y/N has left him stranded, until he can feel his body heat right in front of him, putting Leone mostly at ease.  

And then, he feels something poke at his upper lip. It smells rather stale, almost like styrofoam mixed with a floral fragrance. Leone’s face scrunches, and he let out a groan as the once sharp point started to be smoothed over the expanse of his lip. He wanted desperately to say something, but he didnt want to accidentally mess Y/N up. It was lipstick, he’d discerned. Y/N is humming a tune as he continues spreading it over Leone’s bottom lip, and Leone can almost already see the look on his face.  

“..Anndddd..done.” The sensation stops, and Leone can hear Y/N putting the cap back on the lipstick, eyes still closed.  

“Seriously?” He says, borderline scowling.  

“Oh, hush. Trust me on this.” 

“I think I’ve put too much trust in you, actually.” 

Leone feels Y/N place his hands on his shoulders and turn him back in what he guesses is the direction of the little mirror.  

“Open your eyes, and then you can insult me all you want.”  

Leone puffs and does just that, opening his eyes and searching for his reflection again, pupils adjusting to the sudden light. His jaw partly drops. Y/N really did have knack for these things.  

Leone grabs the mirror with both hands and stares widely at the plum colored lipstick swiped across his lips, highlighting the undertones of his skin in a way that makes him feel less abhorrent towards his paleness. It’s so..bold. Different. Sort of ugly but in a good way. A way that makes Leone feel confident as hell.  

“God damn..” 

“What’d I tell ya’?” Y/N is as smug as ever, crossing his arms against his chest.  

“.. I love it. .” He says quietly, mostly to himself as he keeps turning his head this way and that.  

Y/N laughs and leans against the shelves next to Leone, facing him with a smile. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Leone for even a second. Suddenly there is...a palpable tension in the air, and Leone has no idea where it comes from. He tries to ignore it, focused on his face as he brushes his fingers across his lips, the unset makeup staining his fingertips purple. Y/N is still staring, and he’s completely silent. Leone looks over at him, and the look on his face nearly makes him weak.  

His eyes are dropped to Leone’s lips, and they’re painted with a silent sort of..hunger. Need.  

“Leo..” Y/N’s voice is low and careful.  

“..What?” Leone can feel his heart dropping further and further into his stomach, and he thinks he might vomit.  

Y/N doesn’t say anything after that. He uncrosses his arms and doesn’t even so much as take a glance around before he steps in close to Leone, holding his jaw in one hand as he leans in close, eyes slipping closed as he presses his lips softly against Leones.  

Leone stops breathing completely. His hand comes up to grab at Y/N’s wrist, gripping it tightly, ready to shove him away…but he can’t. And he’s so gone. His own eyes flutter closed, and he kisses him back, well he doesn’t really know if it could be considered real kissing, but his lips are definitely still against Y/N’s. It’s bliss, and it’s heaven. It’s shame, and it’s torture. He never wants it to end.  

But then he’s panicking, and his heart is starting up again fervently with unadulterated fear, and he pulls back, pushing Y/N in the process. He looks just as alarmed as Leone. Stunned, frozen in place. Leone is quick to look around, and make sure there are no passerby’s before he looks to Y/N again, breathing heavy. Y/N’s lips are stained now, too.  

“You-“  

“Leone I-“  

Neither of them know what to say, honestly. They just keep staring at each other. Leone brings up a hand to touch his own lips, and swears he feels a sting. He wants to disappear . Why, why did this all have to happen now? Things were going so well..they were going back to normal, so why ?!  

Leone steps away from Y/N and uses the edge of his shirt to rub the lipstick from his face, wiping so harshly he probably peels the skin of his lips.  

“..Let’s go.” He says, turning on his heel and walking towards the sections exit.  

He doesn’t hear any words of protest from behind him, but instead the sound of Y/N’s shoes quietly squeaking against the polished floor, following along.  

They make their way to the cashier and purchase the lipstick and eyeliner, with Y/N making up some excuse that he was buying it ‘for his girlfriend.’ Yeah. Fat chance. The guy checking them out is naive enough to believe it though, and praises Y/N for being such a good boyfriend. Leone wishes he were anywhere but here.  

It’s silent as they make their way back out into the parking lot. By now, the crowd has dwindled down, and even the music over the speakers has dwindled to soft jazz to match the atmosphere. They get back into the car, and Leone isn’t even phased by the blazing heat that hits them. Y/N starts up the car, and they begin the journey back home.  

What the fuck is he supposed to do now?  

Chapter Text

The ride home is as stifling as you could imagine. Your grip is tight against the steering wheel almost the entire time, making your knuckles lock up and become stiff. It’s so uncomfortable you could choke. Leone hasn’t spoken a word, but every time you sneak a glance at him, he’s either picking at the fabric of his bag, or tracing his fingers over his lips. His hands are shaking. You want to hold them.  

You hadn’t meant to act so...suddenly. 

It’s not as if you had any of that preplanned. You’d genuinely thought the lipstick would be a nice touch to his newfound style, and really, it was. But the moment you’d taken a second to really soak in the sight in front of you..it was like an electric current spiking through your veins.  

In any case, there was no use trying to deny your feelings for Leone anymore. It had been stupid to try and put them off in the first place. You’d gotten that same itch as you had yesterday, when the two of you were on your bed. At least things were clearer now…You simply had a crush on your best friend. Maybe more than a crush—definitely something romantic. Totally fine . The real problem was you had no idea what to do about it. You’d essentially fucked things up now, with how you’d practically sucked his face off in the middle of a public department store, and were more than convinced that he probably wanted you dead. But..it’s not as if Leone didn’t like you back...? 

Well-maybe not like you back, but he definitely kept on kissing after the initial soft one you’d given him. So..on some level, at least, he was attracted to you.  

You tap your fingers against the steering wheel and squint your eyes at the road, chewing at your lower lip. This was..good? You had a chance. Even though things were looking pretty bleak right now with the whole silent treatment thing, surely there would be an opening at some point…That should be the last thing on your mind right now, though, and you sort of hate how selfishly giddy you feel about it all. One of you would have to break at some point, so you decide to be the bigger person.  

“Leo.”  

Leone doesn’t respond, but he turns his head very slightly in your direction, which is enough to let you know that he’s listening.  

“ Are you alright ?” 

…  

“I’m not sure how I’m meant to be, after that.” He replies quietly.  

Well, shit. Maybe you’d got it all misconstrued after all.  

“..I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”  

Leone finally turns his head to face you, and you get a glimpse of his hard glare before you’re fixing your eyes back on the road, palms starting to sweat.  

“Yeah, no kidding-“ 

“Did you hate it?” You had to ask.  

Leone is quiet again, and you can almost hear the gears churning in his head.  

“..I don’t know.” 

It wasn’t a solid no, at least?  

“You kissed me back.”  

Leone seems to shift in his seat at that.  

“I know.”  

“Did you want to? Or were you just..going along with it.”  

…  

“I wanted to.” Leone says, but he grounds the words out like he’s saying them against his own better judgement. Regardless of his tone, though, the words themselves make you let out a small sigh of relief. That’s one tick of guilt off the scoreboard.  

“So then..why’d you look so..I dunno, mortified ?--“ 

“I’m not gay, Y/N.” Leone cuts you off, his hand curling into a fist in his lap, face turning back towards the window so that you can no longer see it. If you’d found any consolation from his previous statement, it was completely wiped away now. Your chest feels..tight. Heart heavy.  

You swallow and look at him through the corner of your eye. “You..you’re not?”  

“No, I’m not.” 

It kind of felt like a cop out, more than anything. He wasn’t gay, but he ‘wanted’ to kiss you? Heterosexuals don’t usually find themselves desiring to kiss their same-sex friends, as far as you were aware, and they certainly wouldn’t act on it even if that was the case. Leone’s words still hurt, though, and the way your eyes were starting to burn was proof of that.  

“…Okay.” Is all you say, not knowing how else to carry a conversation like that. You weren’t going to sit there and argue with him about it—it wasn’t your place to do so. So, the two of you go back to being invisible to each other, and you drive on.  

————— 

The second you arrive at Leone’s house, he wastes no time unbuckling his seatbelt, gathering up his shopping bags and pushing out of the car. For a moment, you thought about offering to help him get everything out but decided against it in the end. After he’s grabbed everything, bags of various colors and sizes looped around his forearms, you roll down the window and lean over a bit, looking up at him. The sun was just beginning to set, and the weather was much fairer. Leone’s expression is a mixture of exhaustion and perplexity, maybe even a bit of anger tweaked at his brow.  

“Before you go..” You begin, looking down to your own hands now. “..just, hide the makeup in a shoebox of sorts. Throw a dark colored sheet over it and nobody will ever notice.”  

Leone’s jaw slackens as he processes the information, and now he just looks straight up disturbed. You raise an eyebrow.  

“..What?”  

“…that suggestion doesn’t work as well as you think it does..” He mumbles, fists clenching again. Now you were just confused. 

“What, you’ve tried it before or something? Got caught?” You attempt to put on a smile.  

“No..” Leone lifts his head a bit and looks off to the side. He’s clearly holding something back. Your gaze hardens and you hold the steering wheel as if bracing yourself.  

“Then what?”  

“-I found your magazine collection.” Leone blurts out, his voice a hurried whisper.  

… 

“Oh.” The shock and embarrassment flowing through you was enough to kill.  

“I’m sorry for snooping, I just..I was curious.” 

“..Don’t sweat it, man..” You didn’t know what to say. This was too much for one day. 

Leone looks at you again. He appears frantic. “I..I’m gonna go.”  

You nod. “G’Night.” It was a miracle he was giving you such an easy way out. 

Leone doesn’t say anything after that, but he stands there just a moment longer, staring at you through the open window, before he turns and starts heading towards his house. Once you can see that he’s gone inside, you straighten up in your seat and take a deep breath. It was taking everything in you not to punch a hole through your windshield, or smash your head against the horn, either of the two likely to grant some sort of release after the hell you’d just experienced. Instead, though, you put the car in drive and start making your way back home.  

 ————— 

You pull into your parking spot in front of your flat and clamber out of the car, taking with you the single bag of items that you’d bought, and slamming the door closed without much care. God, all you wanted now was to lay down, fall asleep and never wake up again. You make your way up to the porch and sigh as the front door creaks open, the familiar smell of your house hitting you immediately, and bringing about a sense of comfort amidst all the chaos running through your mind. You kick off your shoes and make your way up the many flights of stairs, saying hello to your mother on your way up, and vaguely nodding to your father who was rested back against the couch in the living room.  

The 3rd floor is quiet. Christ, if Gio had been using your radio at a time like this you would’ve strangled him…but now that you were thinking about it..  

You make a quick stop by your bedroom, dropping off your shopping bag and wallet at the foot of your bed, before heading back out into the hallway and making your way down to Giovanni’s room. It wasn’t often you came to him for anything, but in a crisis like this it was sort of necessary. You only hoped he wasn’t taking one of his several evening naps. You wait for just a moment before knocking lightly on the door. Some shuffling and groaning can be heard from the other side, before the door cracks open. You can see Gio’s eyes staring back at you through the small gap, irritated already at the realization that it was you.  

“Hi Gio.” 

“Whatd’you want?” He huffs back. 

“Can we talk?”  

His eyes roam over your face for a moment, and he seems to gather that, indeed, something isn’t right, and that this was at least a semi-serious matter. He nods and takes a step back, opening the door fully for you to come inside. He waits until you’re all the way in before closing the door back, and returning to his spot on his bed, with you taking a seat on the beanbag in the corner of the room, which nearly swallows you whole. It’s large and soft, and takes the pressure off of your bones, helping you to relax.  

“Alright, spill it.” Gio sounds bored already, face propped up in his hand as he stares over at you.  

You fold your fingers in your lap and tilt your head to the side, thinking. What was the tamest way to say this without giving your brother whiplash? Would he even be phased?  

“Well, I kissed Leone today.” You just go with it, shrugging.  

Gio is more surprised than you thought he would be. His eyes are wide with incredulity, mouth hanging open, and he even leans in your direction a little bit.  

“What-??! What the hell do you mean you ‘kissed him,’ I thought he was your best friend?!” 

You kind of want to laugh in Gio’s face. If you knew it was this easy to get a reaction out of him, you’d have done it sooner.  

“He..he is. I think.” 

“So, what, you’ve got a crush on him or somethin’?” The shock seems to be fading away now, but he still looks as confused as ever.  

You shrug and sit back in the beanbag a little more. “I guess so..It hadn’t really occurred to me until..well, today, I guess.” 

Gio sighs deeply and turns his head up towards the ceiling as if trying to regain his bearings.  

“..Alright..alright, fine, whatever. So you kissed him. Did he sucker punch you or..?” Gio smirks.  

You roll your eyes at your brother’s unhelpful antics. “No, and thank god he didn’t. He actually..kissed back. But just for a moment.”  

Giovanni already knew that you were gay. In fact, he was the only one who knew, besides (now) Leone. You’d come out to him a few years ago, during middle school. It was a rather rude awakening for you when you developed intense feelings towards one of your classmates; his name was…Matteo. There was nothing special about him either, he was just kindhearted towards you, in comparison to the demons that roamed those halls. The two of you would share lunch together, ride to the park, study..all the things. It took you a while, though, to realize that what you were feeling was more than just friendly affection, and rather romantic attraction. You’d only consulted Gio about it because people began to pick on you, call you names for always huddling up with Matteo, and doing everything in your power to stay by his side.  

There was a big brawl about it one day after school, which Gio regretted none of. He didn’t care too much about your orientation, and was more concerned about protecting you from harm, even though he’d probably never admit it. Still, though, you didn’t discuss things like this with him very often and usually kept your one-off crushes to yourself. Safer that way. But this situation with Leone was..different, you felt.  

“Did he? Hm..didn’t really see that coming.” Gio replies, stroking his chin and the beard hairs he pretends are there.  

“Neither did I.”  

“You gonna ask him out, then?”  

The question catches you off guard, and you sit up a bit. Ask him out? It hadn’t even been on your mind. Anyway, it was off the table because- 

“Leone says he ain’t gay, so…no.” You reply softly. It was hard to hide the disappointment in your tone.  

Gio arches an eyebrow, puzzled. “Hold up—whatdya’ mean he ain’t gay? I thought you said he kissed you?” 

“I know!!” You groan and rub your hands over your face. So far, talking to Gio was going about as well as it’d been when you were talking to yourself. 

“I don’t get it. The guy’s obviously a queer so what’s the deal? Maybe it’s cause he realized you’re fuckin’ ugly.” Gio snickers at his own ridiculous joke.  

“Shut up asshole, this is a serious situation- “You huff, wanting to throw something at him but having nothing in your vicinity to do so.  

“Alright, whatever...” He shakes his head and gestures with his hand, leaning back against the headboard now.  

“..I mean, maybe he’s just scared..it’s not exactly an easy thing to come to terms with, y’know?” You say, trying to rationalize now rather than simply spiraling.  

“I guess so. But it’s not like you’re gonna judge him or anything, so what’s he got to be afraid of?”  

“Ever heard of this thing called ‘ society ,’ halfwit?” Sometimes he could be so dense it hurt. “I guess you wouldn’t really get it, but it’s just..a difficult thing to accept at first. So I don’t blame him.” Your voice becomes quieter and more sincere now. Having the chance to actually think about all this critically was making you feel less butthurt, and more sympathetic towards Leone. 

You’d had your own phase of denial too, after all. It didn’t last too long, since Gio was there to help you along by essentially drilling it into you that ‘nobody really gives a fuck what you do in your free time,’ but it was still tough, nonetheless. Especially with the bullying. You imagine Leone was just horrified of being at the tail end of that kind of discrimination. Not to mention all the worries that came along when thinking of your future; ‘I’ll never be able to get married, I’ll never have kids of my own,’ those kinds of things. Living your life under a radar wasn’t particularly desirable, either. So, in reality, there were a ton of reasons why Leone had probably proclaimed to not be gay in the moment. Strange that it took Gio’s idiotic comments to make you start considering any of it. You suppose he was useful in his own unintentional ways.  

“Okay, let’s say that’s the reason then..what can you do about it?” Gio asks, sounding more gentle than sarcastic. 

You look to him for a moment, and then down to your hands in your lap.  

“..I guess nothing.”  

“Took some time for you to get comfortable with yourself, yeah? It’ll be the same for him.”  Gio nods at his own words. “You’re not that eager for a boyfriend, are ya?” He smirks. 

Your first thought is to say ‘yes, yes I absolutely am,’ but you don’t, knowing it’d only put you in for another round of teasing. In truth, you didn’t know if you wanted Leone to be your boyfriend. Obviously you did on a surface level, but the friendship you had with him was kind of refreshing. Would making it romantic be the right choice?  

“No, I’m not… I get that he needs time..I guess I just don’t know how to interact with him in the meantime. The kiss was a pretty big leap. How does someone not feel pressured after that?” 

Gio seems perceptive to this, and nods slowly at your words, understanding for once in his life.  

“Yeah..it’ll be pretty hard to act like things are fine after the shit you pulled..so maybe you should just give him some space for a bit? Wait until he’s ready to discuss it, or somethin’.”  

… 

“..You’ve actually said something useful, Gio.” You give your elder brother a small smile, the advice being exactly what you needed to hear. Giovanni smiles proudly and huffs like it was no big deal, which makes you laugh a bit. You stand up from the beanbag, almost falling right back against it from how comfy it is, and make your way towards the door.  

“Thanks Gio.” You say over your shoulder, reaching for the handle. You had a lot of thinking to do after this.. 

Gio sits up a little and shuffles to the edge of the bed. He almost looks..sad to see you going. A rare flash of his humanity that would be gone in a moment's notice, surely. He gives a short nod and smiles. 

“Yeah..no problem.” Just as you’d thought, the moment is gone just as quick as it came, and Gio starts shooing you, mumbling something about closing the door behind yourself.  

You shake your head at him, but do as you’re told, leaving the room and shutting the door before making your way back to your own room. The moment you’re inside, you throw yourself onto your mattress with a long sigh. You were feeling a little better about things now. Even though you were still severely embarrassed by all the day’s events— kissing your best friend out of nowhere, and learning that he’d seen your magazine (that was like a stab to the chest)—the talk with Gio left you a bit more clearheaded... 

You’d give Leone a day to process things. Maybe longer if he needed..but you didn’t want to wait too long, since, knowing him he would try to act like it never happened at all. It was weird to think about not spending time with him though, just like last week when he’d ghosted you for five days..that time around it was mostly about boredom, but this time it’s so much more. Patience was definitely not your strong suit to begin with.  

But you were willing.  

As long as it meant you could be close to him again. 

Chapter Text

Today is the first day of school.

You have not seen or spoken to Leone.

And yes, you’d promised yourself you would give him time, but no one really means that when they say it, right? What they really mean is they’re willing to spare at least a night or an afternoon for someone to get their shit together, and then be right back to talking, or having some form of communication. 72 hours of radio silence is not what you’d been prepared for. And the worst part, was that you had no idea how much longer it would last.

Currently, you were blasting music in your room, throwing on your best ‘First-Day’ outfit. You’d felt hopeful about it two nights before when you’d planned it out, but now it just felt stupid. Everything felt fucking stupid, and pointless, and dumb. Not that it was a bad outfit, but when you were stressing over Leone, nothing felt right.

No call, no visit, no nothing. Your patience was running thinner every minute.

But that’s selfish of you, isn’t it? You cant fast-forward something like this…it’s delicate. Making any sudden moves would cause the foundation of your entire relationship with Leone to shatter, and you certainly didn’t want that. But no doubt it was getting difficult to just…wait.

You grab your wired headphones from inside your dresser and shove them into the front pocket of your backpack where it’s slouched on top of your bed, very much reflecting how you feel right now. It’s packed lightly with some notebooks and folders, most of which you just recycled from last year. Teachers always overestimate the materials you need when they give students those supply lists, (a proper scam, in your opinion.) but at least that meant you didn’t have to spend extra money. You’re about to go search your desk for mechanical pencils that actually work when there’s a knock at the door.

You want so badly to believe that Leone is standing there.

But when you yell ‘Come in!’ The door slowly opens to reveal a head of dark brown hair, not silver. You sigh and go back to searching.

“Buongiorno, Mama.” You murmur, shaking your head.

Your mother is immediately thrown off by the apparent lack of joy in your tone, and she remains in the doorway with her hands on her hips, raising her brow.

“What’s with the attitude, bimbo? Ah- let me guess...first day jitters, hm?” She says assuredly, nodding to herself.

“No, Ma’…I’m too old for that kind of thing now..” You turn to face her with a slight smile, an assortment of pencils in your hands. It was hard to stay grumpy when she was around, with the pleasant energy she emitted.

She sighs and smiles back, but then her eyes are narrow and crinkling, and her mouth is pulling into a frown, a hand pressed over her heart. Oh goodness, you already knew where this was headed. You shake your head quickly and set the pencils down on the desk again, rushing over to her and putting your hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t you dare-”

Your mother’s lip is quivering, and her eyes have become shiny with unshed tears. “Dio mio, my baby boy is all grown up!” She wails, her head collapsing forward against your chest. God damnit, every time. You sigh heavily and wrap your arms around your mother, gently cradling her head with one hand and patting her back with the other.

“This can’t keep happening, Mama..” You grumble as she continues to lightly sob against your shirt, staining it with tear drops. It had been like this ever since you started secondary school. At even the briefest mention of you getting older she would break down into a mess, just like this, and wouldn’t stop for God knows how long, going on about how she wishes she had a Time Machine, or how she wanted to manipulate the handles on the clock. Way too sentimental for her own good. It did make you feel a bit warm inside though, knowing that your mother so openly cared for you.

Your mother finally lifts her head and begins mopping the tears from her face with the collar of her shirt, her face now tinted red, and her eyes puffed like a wet sponge. You smile down at her and continue patting her back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry..I just can’t believe it, you know? It’s like just yesterday you could barely stand on two feet..and now look at you, a whole head taller than me..” She looks up to you with a deep breath, solemn nostalgia washing over the both of you now.

“I get it..but you can’t do this every time...I’ll be late for school at this point.” You say with a soft huff of laughter.

“Goodness, I know..alright okay, I’m sorry..” She takes in a deep breath to settle herself and takes a step back once she’s feeling better. There’s a questioning look on her face again, though. “..but..You still did not answer me..why do you seem so upset, if it’s not anxiousness?”

In your mother’s bout of crying, you’d almost forgotten all about that. All about everything, actually. You swallow and look away, returning to your desk to shove your pencils inside a pencil case. It wouldn’t do you any good to lie to her.

“..Leo’s gone ghost again.” You zip up the pencil case, leaning against the surface of your desk with a shrug.

Your mother seems to deflate at the news, as if she were personally affected by it.

“Oh, jeez, not again..what’s happened this time?”

You tense up at the question. Now you actually did have to lie.

“Uhm..I dunno I guess maybe he uh-…I don’t know Ma’.” You could not for the life of you come up with an adequate excuse. Your mother seems to take notice of the blunder, raising an eyebrow.

“..That’s unusual…I’m sorry son, I know this must be hard, especially now with school coming back into the equation..”

Yeah, no shit.

“It’s..it’s alright Mama, I’ll be okay. I’m sure I’ll see him at some point today and we can chat..” Actually, you hadn’t even thought of that until just now..but of course—you would see him on campus. Maybe even at the bus stop like always? Jesus, now you were getting hopeful again.

Your mother smiles and hums happily, the conclusion you come to putting her at ease. “That’s good then! My, he’s so unpredictable, perhaps you can call him out on his flakiness, well not in an aggressive way of course, I just mean—“ Your mother begins to ramble on, and you nod along senselessly as you begin carefully pushing her in the direction of the door. By god, could that woman talk your ear off.

“Yes- yes Ma’, I hope so too..” You utter at random, pushing her out into the hallway. “Okay- I’ve gotta get going-“That finally makes her stop talking, and she looks to you with widened eyes, a hand over her mouth daintily as if realizing she’d gotten beside herself.

“Is it time already? My goodness..well, okay then bimbo, I’ll get out of your hair...” She looks like she could cry again, but she holds it in for your sake. She rests her palms against your cheeks, and you lean down so that she can plant a kiss to your forehead, the affection making you feel more resolute.

You stand up straight again and smile, watching as she walks away and makes her way back downstairs. You return to shoving the last of your school supplies into your bag, before slinging it over your shoulder, and heading down to your car.

—————

In the short time it’d taken you to get into your vehicle, you’d curated a perfect series of events in your head as to how this would work out. It was obvious, you don’t even know why you’d been overthinking it so much before. You were, of course, going to park at the bus stop and wait for Leone like you always did, the routine that the two of you had fallen into last year. It was infallible.

You check the time on your car radio, seeing that there are still about 15 minutes before the shuttle arrives, a perfect window of time. There was no way Leone way going to be late on the first day. And even if he was, it didn’t matter, because you were going to be there to sweep him up anyways. You park a little way down from the bus shelter, where you can already see a few of your fellow classmates loitering, just as annoyed as ever. From your rearview mirror, you can see things pretty clearly, so even if Leone doesn’t see you parked (which in itself was pretty impossible), at least you could call after him yourself.

…

15 minutes go by, and Leone is still nowhere to be seen. The bus shows up promptly, and you watch as everyone resentfully steps into it one by one. But no Leone. Maybe you just blinked the moment he went inside? Definitely not, you’d been watching your rear like a hawk the entire time.

Okay...so maybe he had overslept? That wouldn’t blow over well with his father, that’s for sure. But it was no big deal anyways. You were just going to..keep waiting. Yes. Keep waiting…

But then another 20 minutes pass and there’s no sign of him. You’ve begun to tap your foot restlessly against the car floor, teeth gritted with a combination of frustration and concern. You couldn’t think of a single reason why he isn’t here right now. You roll down your window and stick your head out, looking back at the bus stop again just to make sure, once again, that you hadn’t blinked at the wrong time. But it was all the same…You can’t even sit here and ruminate, because you’d spent so much time waiting for him you yourself were about to be late to school for real.

“..Fuck..” You sigh, your head hanging slightly as you put the car in drive, fingers clenching at the steering wheel as you take off down the road. Where the hell is he?

—————

When you arrive at the high school, the courtyard is already completely empty, for obvious reasons. It takes you a while to find a suitable parking spot, all the others already being claimed by upperclassman who weren’t loitering at their fucking neighborhood bus stop for almost an hour. Whatever, it’s fine…It was for a good cause. Besides, the walk from the East parking lot to the main building wasn’t too awful..the air was only slightly humid, and the sun was still hanging sort of low in the sky, low enough not to make you sweat at least.

Your late entrance bites you in the ass though, since you’re forced to go to the front office to grab your schedule. The secretary judges you hard the moment you walk in, looking you up and down like some kind of delinquent. This school wasn’t even that strict, so you’ve got no idea what her problem is.

Within a few minutes, you acquire your schedule, and you almost groan out loud to see that you’ve been struck with Philosophy first thing in the morning again. It’s like the universe was intentionally screwing you over at this point, but whatever.

Right now, you had to start thinking of another way to find Leone. It’s not like you could go peering into every classroom, demanding his location and making a fool of yourself. That’d be a horrible start to the year…but it’s not like it isn’t already going terribly. You continue brainstorming as you start making your way down the empty halls to your designated classroom.

There was always a chance you’d see him during recess…but what are the odds you’ll actually be able to spot him? The school is absolutely humongous; he could be anywhere. You weren’t exactly keen on spending the entire 15 minutes running through the halls, or out into the courtyard. Maybe you could wait by the bus station after school ended?..That seemed pretty effective actually. But if Leone hadn’t ridden the bus to school this morning, what were the odds that he’d ride it back home? That is, if he’s even here at all..

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of the door to your class, and you can see the faint outlines of people through the frosted glass window. God…you were a mess. You adjust your clothes a bit, as if that’ll make your abrupt appearance less jarring, before reaching out and grabbing the door handle, pushing it open as quietly as you can manage. As you brace yourself for the sea of eyes about to turn your way, you look through the now opened door to the cluster of kids. Your jaw couldn’t have fallen lower.

There he was..in all his glory. Leone Abbacchio, that bastard.

He lifts his head from where he had been resting it against the desk, and his violet eyes meet yours, agape and stunned. You feel stiff all of a sudden, throat constricting with suppressed emotion the longer you stare at him.

“-Young man.” You hadn’t even heard the teacher speaking to you, almost entirely forgotten his presence. Your eyes snap to him, a light flush of embarrassment coming to your cheeks. You couldn’t imagine how this looked to the other people in the room, and honestly you didn’t want to.

“..Please have a seat.” The man continues in a gruff tone from where he’s set at the chalkboard, gesturing towards the many rows of desks. You immediately straighten up and give a short nod, looking out to the desks now.

Damn it. The seat next to Leone is taken..and so is the one behind him, and in front of him. The only open seat was…three rows back. You silently curse yourself for being late and make your way to the back of the class, trying your best not to hit anyone with your backpack, before sitting down quickly.

You lean to the side a bit so you can see past the girl in front of you, staring daggers into the back of Leone’s head.

The last thing you’d expected was for him to be in your class...seriously, how was that not on your list of possibilities? It just seemed so unlikely..last year the two of you had been in separate classes, so the chances of it being any different this year was zero to none. You guessed, though, that this was kind of a good thing..At least now you wouldn’t have to keep scrambling for ideas.

“Did you see a ghost or somethin’?” A voice says quietly beside you, a cool baritone that instantly grabs your attention with a small jolt. You turn your head from Leone and to the voice instead. It’s..just some guy. He doesn’t look familiar at all, so it puzzles you why he’s talking to you. His skin is brushed with a bronze tan, freckles dotted across the entirety of his face, hair buzzed with maybe an inch of blonde fuzz remaining..and a little diamond gem in his left nostril. He’s dressed rather plainly, sporting an off-white button up, the sleeves rolled and tucked at his elbows to combat the weather, and a pair of comfortable looking slacks.

You glance towards the teacher for a moment and then speak in a low whisper. “Uh..no?”

The guy smiles, and you can see the flash of something gold at the corner of his teeth. “You were standing there for a solid minute, dude.”

Jesus, had you really? You look away from him with a frown. “..Shit…”

He snickers a bit and faces forward again, but is still leaning slightly in your direction. “It’s alright, I’ve seen worse first impressions before.”

For whatever reason, his words do make you feel a little less flustered. “..Oh yeah? Name one.” You challenge, folding your arms and leaning against your desk, intrigued now.

“One time in primary, some girl ran straight into the door right as the teacher was shutting it. She stayed in the nurse's office the entire day.” He explains, that smile tugging a bit wider.

You let out a quiet laugh of your own, imagining the scene play out in your head. “Damn..guess it really could be worse..” Despite just meeting this guy, you were glad he was able to distract you from the current shit show you were suffering through.

“Exactly. Though…I am curious at what had you so surprised..?” Well, there goes that.

You look forward to the back of Leone’s head again, finger tapping against the wooden desk. “..Just..saw someone I wasn’t expecting.”

“You and that kid got some history, then?” He looks to Leone too with a raised eyebrow. The way he says ‘history’ sounds like he’s implying something.

“..Something like that.”

“-What’s the story?”

Your eyes don’t leave Leone, but your jaw does tense. You weren’t about to spill your business to this stranger, and quite frankly, talking about it was becoming bothersome, but..a rough summary wouldn’t hurt.

“We hung out a few times over the summer..but we haven’t talked in a while.” Overly simplistic, but surely enough to keep the guy at bay.

“Damn..fated by coincidence then..” He murmurs. “..you gonna talk to him?”

It was beyond your understanding why this guy was so interested in your situation. Maybe he was just a drama fiend.

“..Yeah, maybe...if I even get the chance.”

He hums and nods, looking to you again. It’s quiet for a long moment, before he speaks up again. “..I’m Matteo, by the way.”

You lift your head a bit as he introduces himself, tilting it to the side, eyes wide…Did you hear him correctly, or was your mind playing tricks on you?

“..I’m sorry, did you say Matteo?”

He nods slowly; brows furrowed again in perplexity at your reaction. “That’s right.”

What the fuck..? This was too much shock for one day, and you were sure you were on the brink of a damned heart attack. He looks so..different. It’s no wonder you didn’t recognize him right away, in fact you still don’t as you look him over again. Except maybe his eyes…Your childhood crush is staring right back at you. Obviously, he didn’t recognize you, either. You groan quietly and duck your head back down into your folded arms, wanting nothing but to disappear right now.

You can hear a nervous chuckle of laughter from Matteo, and you realize you still haven’t said anything in response. Damn it all. You turn your head slightly to glance at him, attempting to disguise your dismay.

“..Sorry uhm—..we used to go to school together. I’m Y/N.”

Your admission seems to bring Matteo to his senses, and the smile on his face is much fainter, but not gone completely. He almost looks..pleased at this news. His eyes travel over you again, more critically this time, and it appears the pieces have finally snapped together.

“No way..” He says quietly.

“Unfortunately, way.”

“Oh, man..this is..this is fantastic-“ His smile is returning, and he’s got a newfound sense of enthusiasm that confuses you to no end.

“..What? What do you mean?”

“I thought I’d never see you again..god, you look so different now, I still can’t believe it’s you..”

‘Right back at ya.’ You think to yourself. But—wait..

“You’ve been looking for me?”

Matteo looks away, lips pursed as he considers how to answer you. “Well..I wasn’t necessarily looking, but I never forgot about you, if that counts.”

“..It’s not like I disappeared after middle school.” You’d lived in the same house your entire life. If Matteo wanted to see you, he could’ve.

“You didn’t, but I did…I moved here, to Montepulciano. But before this year, I’d been attending private school..I guess that’s why I’ve never seen you..”

Ah..so that was it. You had never forgotten about him either, but after the whole fight situation with Gio and those pre-teen bastards, you and Matteo had stopped talking. You were never boyfriends to begin with, hell you didn’t even know if he actually felt the same about you, but the controversy became too much for either of you to handle. You start to wonder if maybe you were the reason Matteo had to leave town. There were a thousand questions surfacing your mind right now, actually.

“..What made you quit private school?” Is the one you go with, the other ones too heavy for your own liking.

“Oh-“ He laughs. “I didn’t quit. I got expelled.”

“Expelled?!” Your voice raises a bit, and you get a look from some of the people around you, which makes you gulp and sink down in your seat.

Matteo smiles softly and shakes his head. “It was nothing, really. I just..got into some trouble.” The vagueness of his answer makes it clear he didn’t want to discuss the topic in greater detail. Seems like he wasn’t the caring, merciful boy you knew him to be anymore.

“So, what, you’re some kind of delinquent now?” You ask quietly, both teasing and genuine.

Matteo laughs again and leans back, arms crossed against his chest. “Yeah, I guess you could say that…I’m trying to change, though, if that makes you feel better.”

You smile a bit at that. “..I don’t care about that, man. Not like I’m some saint either..”

“I wouldn’t imagine you are, with all the shit you were stirring back then.” Matteo grins, giving you a knowing look. So he does remember all that..

“Wasn’t my fault, I was minding my own business..Giovanni was the one giving kids black eyes and shit..” It’s strange how Matteo frames the situation. Perhaps he never understood it in the first place. You don’t know why that makes your stomach sink.

“Alright fair point…” Matteo leans forward again, smiling at you. Charming. “..wanna spend recess together? We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

It’s like the breath has been taken from your chest. This feels..surreal. It’s not even like you still had feelings for Matteo..you think..but being in his proximity again, talking to him..it was so exhilarating. But..then there was still Leone. Your current crush. God, this was so elementary. But you have to stand your ground and remember what your main goal is.

“Uh—that sounds good but..I’ve gotta talk to my friend so—“ You remind him, gently shooting him down. Matteo looks unfazed, gazing over at Leone again.

“Sure, no problem..How about after school, then? We could get lunch.” Matteo was adamant. Or maybe just excited. It was hard to say you didn’t feel the same, even in all your despair and embarrassment. Depending on how things go with Leone..maybe you could spare the guy some time, yeah..

You nod slowly. “..Yeah..sure, we can do that.”

“Perfect.” Matteo is pleased, turning to face forward again.

For the rest of class, the two of you don’t speak, remembering that this was, in fact, school, and that you still had to pay attention, even if the teachers were only going over the pointless syllabus today. You kept looking at Leone, and then to Matteo every once in a while. Things just keep getting messier and messier by the second...

Only two more classes to sit through before your talk with Leone…

Chapter Text

Leone can feel his eye’s burning into the back of his head. Y/N has undoubtedly been staring at him this entire time, and it’s making Leone feel sick. It was just his luck that they’d ended up in the same class, the one thing Leone had been dreading the possibility of the moment he stepped onto the campus.  

He thought he was safe, after convincing his father to give him a ride to school so that he could purposely avoid Y/N at the bus stop, but of course things wouldn’t end that easily. Things never worked in his favor like that. He had damn near exploded when Y/N burst through the door and has still felt as such ever since.  

Leone can’t bear to look at him.  

He had spent the last two days periodically kneeled at the foot of his bed again, desperately whispering those revered words for hours at a time, the prayer doing absolutely nothing to disrupt the constant flow of shame running through him since the day at the mall. It was all…ridiculously trivial. It was doing nothing for him, he quickly realized, but by God did he keep trying.  

Leone still has no idea why he let himself lean into the kiss. It was just..instinct, he guesses, even though it hurts to say. He was the one complaining about wanting things to be fine again, yet he kissed back? It was hypocritical at best and paradoxical at worst. He hates that the wrong felt so right. Hates the way the image of Y/N’s flushed face and soft, worried lips looked when they’d pulled away keeps flickering behind his eyelids, when he’s asleep and even now when he’s awake.  

And so he had no choice but to start avoiding him again. He had half expected Y/N to try and get in touch with him like he had before, but that didn’t happen. He felt horrible . His relationship with one of his only friends was steadily deteriorating, and it was all his fault; at least that’s what it feels like.  

Though, they had both crossed such a huge line..albeit one that was already extremely faded, threatening to snap under the weight of the barely concealed tension between the two of them. He had begun to wonder how long said tension had been present, and how long he’d just been ignoring it.  

No matter what, it was all revealed now, and Leone still had no plans to deal with it.  

 God, if only his mother could see him now.   

Leone had very briefly considered talking to his father about the ordeal, which really made him question his sanity. Knowing him, he’d forbid Leone from ever seeing Y/N again..or worse. He’d made his stance on homosexuality clear. It wasn’t overt, but rather discreet..little comments sprinkled here and there about things he’d read in the news or seen on the TV, and Leone clung onto all of it. He was deftly afraid of what his father was capable of when it came to his dislike for queers.  

Instead of that ridiculous idea, after the prayer stopped providing comfort, Leone had found an old journal in the depths of his closet and began writing in it. It was easy..mindless almost, to unscramble the thoughts in his head and scribble them onto paper. He’d spent all of last night writing away, starting all the way from the way Y/N had looked at him that night they were listening to that CD. That was the very moment things had started to become complicated, he soon realized. He’d tucked the notebook between his mattress and bed frame, close to where he had been hiding the makeup he bought, pocketed into his fitted sheets. The last thing he wanted was his father finding it by some off chance and being subjected to rather aggressive writings about his...awakenings.  

The writing helped, in a way. And maybe it could’ve remained useful to him if he wasn’t now in an enclosed space with the very same man he’d been venting about. Leone fully intended to avoid him at school..He doesn’t know for how long, but he certainly wasn’t ready to face him now . And judging by the look on his face when he’d walked through the door, there’s no way Y/N was letting him escape this day without a thorough ‘ chat ’.  

Leone did not want to talk. He detested the notion so much that he could hardly focus on whatever the hell the teacher was saying, even though he was right in front of him. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what he wanted. He craved his friend’s presence, yet at the same time needed him at a distance. A perfect disaster of distress.  

But when their Mathematics teacher calls for recess, Leone knows there’s nothing he can do. Except run, maybe. There was always that…yeah that. He stuffs his pencil into the side pocket of his backpack and takes a couple coins with him for the vending machine, hopping up from his desk and heading straight towards the door, where all the other students are already flooding out. 

He manages to wedge himself through the doorway and step out into the hall, but doesn’t make it very far past that.  

“Leone!” He hears Y/N shout from behind him. Leone hates it when he calls him that.  

He steps over to the side, leaning against a near wall with a small sigh, already beginning to feel his hear race. When he looks towards the doorway, he sees Y/N approaching hurriedly, and he can see him saying something to someone behind him for a moment, but he doesn’t catch the exchanged words. Leone wonders who it is, but Y/N is the one standing in front of him now, so he hasn’t got much time to ponder. Leone takes a couple steps back, not wanting any of this conversation to drift back into the classroom, to which Y/N follows.  

Y/N doesn’t look angry. He looks drained…not even a hint of a smile on his face. It was unsettling.  

“Leone..Hi..”  

Leone’s fists clench, and he struggles to get his mouth open. “..Hey.” 

“You uh..did the thing again.”  

“I know.” He says quietly, eyes drifting to the floor, a crease in his brow.  

“..I waited for you at the bus stop, ya’ know-” 

“I got a ride from my father.”  

Y/N takes a pause at this, a confused grimace on his expression. But it’s gone just as quickly.  

“Listen, I’m not going to drag out this conversation longer than we need to. I’m sorry for what happened at the mall..” Y/N lowers his voice, and leans a little more into Leone’s space, glancing around. “I... I regret the way it happened, but I don’t regret kissing you. And-And I know you’re probably super conflicted with yourself right now, but I want to help- I don’t want to keep doing this on and off thing with you- “ 

Leone is just staring back at him whilst he speaks. He wishes they didn’t have to talk about this here and now, but there’s no way Y/N’s going to stop talking at this rate, with how unpredictable Leone has been. He feels uncomfortable all over, being this close to him again. Fuzzy inside. Palms sweating...it’s disgusting. Y/N’s voice is slowly becoming background static, Leone unable to focus on any of the syllables anymore.  

“—I think we should just forget about it all.” Leone says suddenly, making Y/N’s words come to a halt. 

Y/N’s lips draw into a thin line, and Leone can tell that he’s struck a nerve, just by the way his expression is becoming sterner and..offended.  

“..What do you mean?” Y/N’s voice has become impossibly quieter.  

“I mean what I just said. We should forget about the..the kiss. And the magazine and— just all of it.” Leone looks away, gazing at a clique of students across the hall, as if that will make this all easier.  

“..Why?”  

“Because-…because It was a mistake .” Leone fucking hates himself. “It..shouldnt’ve happened.” His voice lacks conviction entirely . 

That word, mistake, makes Y/N stand up a little straighter, eyes going wide for a moment before narrowing, a flash of hurt in his eyes.  

“..You don’t mean that.”  

“Yes- I do.”  

“You’re just scared.”  

Leone’s stomach drops, and he looks to Y/N again, both of their expressions now matching, though now with a bit of ire.  

“Scared? What the hell are you saying?” Leone didn’t care if he was spot on, he didn’t appreciate being called out, especially when he was already so on edge.  

“Trust me, Leo, I know it feels wrong, but if you’d just let me help-“ 

“What the fuck? I don’t need your help. I told you I’m not gay-!” Leone is trying not to raise his voice, but it’s tougher than it seems.  

Y/N rolls his eyes and huffs. “Dude, cut the crap. I get it—denial and everything—but surely you realize hetero’s don’t get the urge to kiss their friends, yes? You’re gay, I’m gay, so what, who gives a damn?!” Y/N is similarly getting careless with his volume, though the others around them seem too caught up in their conversations to listen in.  

Leone quickly steps forward and tugs at Y/N’s upper arm with a firm grip, giving him a hard glare.  

“Lower your fucking voice.” He grits.  

Y/N rips his arm away but does lower his voice to a rough whisper. “Fuck you! Is it really that detestable to you? Does me being a faggot make you wanna gag, is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” He sounds like he might start crying.  

Leone is..taken aback. Y/N was so upset that he was just spewing out the first thing on his mind, not even sticking to one particular topic anymore; He was jumping to conclusions... but was he really ? Leone hadn’t expected him to be this..emotional, about the situation. It was something they both regularly closed off, so to see it make such a curt appearance was...alarming.  

“No- no that’s not how it is-“ Leone shakes his head quickly, stuttering. He doesn’t even know if his reproach is true.  

“So then why the hell have we got to forget everything!?-“ 

“I just don’t want to think about it anymore-“  

“For fucks sake, Leone!”  

“Just—please!” They’re both talking over each other at this point, and Leone isn’t sure if either of them are actually listening. But the sound of Leone’s plea seems to get Y/N to stop, his breathing labored with frustration.  

They go silent for a long moment. Leone looks around and shoves his hands in his pockets to stop himself from digging his fingers any further into his palms.  

“..Okay..okay- alright, whatever..” Y/N’s voice is despondent, matching the look on his face. Leone is just glad he wasn’t pushing the matter any further. He seems to have exhausted himself.  

“I..I’m sorry.” Leone isn’t sure why he says this. Y/N just shakes his head.  

“Yeah, man..” He barely looks at Leone again before he’s already turning back towards the classroom door. Before Leone knows it he’s gone again, leaving him to stand in the middle of the hall alone. Frazzled. Queasy .  

————— 

Leone doesn’t know how he’d made it through that entire conversation without whittling down into pieces, but his so-called moment of strength was over. He’s rushing to the bathroom now, speed walking down the hall, unfamiliar faces crossing his peripheral, blurring into a muddle mess that he can’t bring himself to be concerned with. He locks eyes with the bathroom door and wills his feet to move faster as he presses his shoulder against it, an ache throbbing at his muscles from the harsh contact, but it gets the door open and that’s all that matters.  

He flings himself into the nearest open stall, scantily pushing the lock over the door before he’s clattering to his knees, one hand on his abdomen and the other on the edge of the toilet bowl as he retches into it, vigorously pouring out all his shame, guilt, and dread. A repulsion of oneself turned physical.  

His eyes are burning with tears that continue to bite at his cheeks as they roll down. Leone has only half a mind to gather his hair into a makeshift ponytail, strands falling out of his grasp and sticking to the saliva still connected to his lips. It’s vile. 

His body keeps on heaving, even after nothing’s coming out anymore, and he can feel the soreness building at the back of his throat and within his chest, the muscles in his stomach cramping. When it finally ends, he sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, panting quietly. All he can taste is acid, and he might’ve thrown up again if he wasn’t so tired. He remains there, for he doesn’t know how long, staring down over the floating bile, the smell rancid. He could just barely make out his reflection in the murky water, too.  

He’d never have guessed the churning in his stomach would’ve ended up like this. The events of the last two weeks had caught up to him. 

He didn’t feel better.  

Not by a long shot.  

The words he’d said... the words Y/N said ...the look on his face, the sorrow in his eyes, the dejection, the fear, the anger, all of it was making Leone’s head spin. This was not normalcy. Leone knew they could never have that again, and yet he stupidly asked for Y/N to just forget ? Asked him to forget, knowing he himself wouldn’t. Couldn’t .  

But he’d forced this upon himself. He couldn’t back track now, no matter how desperately he wanted to.  

He’d dug his grave, and now he was going to helplessly lie in it. 

Chapter Text

The talk with Leone had gone less than stellar…you were borderline fuming.  

Re-entering the classroom, you’d spent the rest of recess with your head against the desk, doing the only thing you knew could calm you down, which was listening to music. A disc was already loaded into your portable CD player, wired headphones in their proper place over your ears, the heavy sounds drowning out the world around you. The music was the only thing you felt you could comprehend in that moment.  

Leone was in deeper denial than you had previously thought. So much so that he wanted to completely erase the memory of the moment you’d shared from his mind, and now yours too. At least you knew where his head was at, but at what cost?  

You’d lost your cool. Embarrassingly so. Your outburst in the middle of the hallway was, simply put, an act of desperation. The sound of Leone calling everything a ‘mistake’ is what set it off…because it felt like he was building yet another wall—Like he was subtly widening the rift already present between you two. And that terrified you.  

You’d thought that this would’ve brought the two of you closer together...that you could help him work through his prejudices and...and maybe you could be in a relationship for real . But the likelihood of that happening was starting to seem less and less plausible. You can’t help but feel like you’ve inadvertently ruined everything. Leone was not budging in his belief that he wasn’t gay…didn’t seem open at all to changing his mindset.  

But you could tell, just from the look on his face, that he didn’t believe himself whatsoever. It was evident, after he got so defensive when you mentioned he was scared. 

He was so fucking confusing, it was seriously starting to make your head hurt.  

This entire thing with Leone was so unnecessarily convoluted, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to involve yourself in it anymore after that whole display. Leone is supposed to be your best friend, and yet the two of you hardly know or trust each other. Was it even your place to try and get Leone to accept himself? Isn’t that what friends are meant to do, support each other?  

But how far is too far? It’s not like you’d been harassing him about it, but with the way he keeps reacting, that’s what it feels like. And how do you know you aren’t subconsciously trying to push him for your own personal gain? For your own romantic fantasy? Even the purest intentions can be inwardly bias, and that was a fact that you were starting to fear .  

It felt so soon to give up on your feelings for Leone. Too soon. They’d barely even had time to develop, let alone blossom. But maybe this was a good thing...squash them before they become too overbearing. Which did you value more; your romantic sympathies, or your friendship, one that you weren’t sure you could find with anyone else?  

Was it even as good a friendship as you’ve let yourself believe?  

All these questions, and you couldn’t give a solid answer to a single one of them. The only thing you knew for certain was that you wanted Leone in your life, even if it couldn’t be in the ways that you desired…yes, that would be enough.  

And so, you decide you’ll play this game of pretend until it merges fully with reality; no complicated feelings, no prying into each other’s lives… If this is what it takes, then so be it.  

When recess ends, you spend the rest of class haphazardly listening to the teacher’s long-winded spiel, doing your best not to stare at the back of Leone’s head anymore. Even with the conclusion you’d come to, your heart was still terribly sore.  

You just hoped things could be peaceful from now on.  

 ————— 

The final bell ringing at the end of the day is like pulling a thorn out of your thumb...immediate relief with only the smallest lingering discomfort. You’d almost forgotten how refreshing it can be to step out into the outside world after being glued to a stiff wooden chair all day in an equally tight classroom overflowing with rowdy teenagers, which of course doesn’t even begin to compare to the other things you’d been made to deal with. Stepping out into the courtyard feels like a damn blessing.  

The heat, though, has unfortunately ramped up, and the sun has resumed its proper throne-like position in the sky’s center, blasting the scattering students with its powerful rays. There seems to be an overcast on its way, thankfully, as you look up to see a blanket of clouds beginning to slowly travel westward. 

You, of course, hadn’t forgotten about your promise to Matteo, even in all the chaos. In fact, you were sort of excited? About talking with him. You were currently waiting for him outside the building, sitting down on the edge of the flagpole’s concrete foundation, the green, white and red flying high above your head. You were playing music in your headphones again, this time being something a bit tamer and more tranquil to match your surroundings.  

When class ended, Matteo said he had to hang back to talk with the admin about something and insisted that you go ahead and wait for him outside. You didn’t question it too much, since you were eager to get out anyways, and he’d said he’d only be a few minutes. You saw Leone on the way out, too. But you didn’t say anything to each other, only exchanging a glance before Leone was off to the bus stop. He’d looked even worse than he did earlier.  

But your focus wasn’t Leone right now, and you didn’t want it to be. You lean back against the metal pole behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You instead began to wonder how this conversation was going to with Matteo. You prayed that if anything, it didn’t turn sour. If you took any more blows today, you were sure you’d lose it.  

You open your eyes again and look to your left, sitting up a little when you see Matteo walking towards you. The moment he catches your gaze, he’s smiling again, and even that's refreshing in its own way. Definitely infectious, as you find yourself smiling back, giving him a small wave out of habit. He makes his way over and stands in front of you, looking down at where you’re sitting as he adjusts his backpack.  

“Hey man.” 

“Yo.” You take one headphone off your ear as you look up at him. “Got everything taken care of?”  

Matteo nods. “Uh-huh. Just confirming some transcript stuff.. again .” He exaggerates the word, sounding bored, which makes you laugh a bit.  

“Ah, gotcha..well good things it’s done with now.” You zip up your backpack and toss it over your shoulder as you stand up. “..Where d’ya wanna get lunch?” 

Matteo hums and taps his fingers against his pants. “Mmm..there’s this local shop a few minutes away. ‘ Trattoria La Vita,’ ever been?” 

You shake your head. “‘Don’t think so..but I’m willing to try it out.” This all feels so strangely ordinary. 

“Sweet. C’mon, let’s get going. It gets crowded pretty quick around this hour..” Matteo turns around and starts walking in the direction of the bus stop. You blink and quickly reach out for his shoulder, grabbing it to stop him with a sheepish smile. He gives you a confused look.  

“Dude..I’ve got a car we can take.” Matteo’s eyebrows shoot up, and he leans in skeptically.  

“What? No way-you’re not even old enough.”  

“Yeah, well-my brother taught me the basics, and my parents think it's good to get my ‘practice’ in..”  

Matteo laughs incredulously and tilts his head at you. “..That right? And you’re sure I can trust you behind the wheel?”  

“Never been in an accident, and I’ve been driving for a year now. That good enough for ya’?” You grin, patting his shoulder tauntingly.  

“..Alright hotshot, I’ll put my faith in you..” Matteo relents, snickering. “..Go on then, let’s see your ride.” 

“Gladly.”  

Upon seeing your car, Matteo seems less impressed by the model than he is by the fact that you were actually telling the truth. His eyes go wide, and he rounds the car slowly, touching the hood and the roof of it like it’s some fragile artifact. He smiles at you and remarks about how insane it is, but looks excited nonetheless. When the two of you get inside, though, he’s quick to put on his seatbelt, which you can’t even fault him for, but you reassure him that you’ll do your best not to crash. The engine revs and you begin to drive, Matteo feeding you all the directions to the aforementioned restaurant.  

You aren’t sure why you’d felt so nervous before. Sure, this is not a typical everyday situation to find yourself in, but it was almost like you two were never separated at all. Matteo isn’t the same guy he used to be, but not in the way you expected. He so...lively. Back in middle school, he was generally reserved, even while being a vaguely popular boy among the student body. He was well received because of his natural charm and easy-going attitude, rather than those kids who got propped up for being obnoxious. It was one of the reasons you’d taken a liking to him in the first place.  

But now…he seems to have embraced a more carefree stance on life, similar to the one you’d adopted yourself. It was evident in his claims to have become a bit of a troublemaker, but it showed even more in the way he spoke and behaved around you. He’s playful and high-spirited, comical and even teasing at times, maybe a little grim, all of which began to shine through more the longer you two conversed in the car.  

It was nice .  

And… 

It was different from things with Leone. It killed you to compare the two, but you couldn’t help yourself. It’s not like you ever had to dial back your personality with Leone, but rather it was the reception of said traits that was concerning. You liked Leone’s shyness, and how easily irritable he was, even his mellowness was endearing, but sometimes you felt like maybe you were too much for him. Too loud, too reckless, too unserious. With Matteo, though, it’s not like that. He is, more or less, the same as you, so there’s no pressure.. 

You try to sever that train of thought, registering how unfair it is.  

The two of you reach the restaurant within 15 minutes, and upon first glance it’s rather small, compacted between two apartment complexes. You park a few spaces away from the entrance, and you both make your way to the front, Matteo already looking like he’s about to start drooling. The smell coming from the place intensifies when you open the door, mostly being that of fresh meats and fragrant cheese.  

Matteo wasn’t lying when he said this place could get packed...looking around, you can see that almost every table and booth is occupied by people, old and young, some even in school uniforms, likely from the next town over. You can hear the clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, some poor kid working as the cashier standing firmly at the counter, jotting down orders as quick as he can.  

You turn slightly to Matteo, giving him a worried glance as you lean over to speak into his ear. “Uh—I think we oughta go somewhere else...Don’t think there’s even an open table for us-“ 

He looks to you as you lean in, taking his own gaze around the room. After a second, he smiles and shakes his head.  

“..Don’t worry, we aren’t sitting in here anyways.” He says simply, stepping into line.  

“..What do you mean?” 

“I’ve got my own personal seats out back. Pretty cool hm?” He smiles cheekily, nudging your shoulder with his own.  

You raise a brow. “Oh, yeah? D’you know the owner or something?”  

“Uhh..yeah, something along those lines..” He looks away, and you huff at his blatant lie.  

Turns out, the ‘personal seating’ he was referring to was actually just the back steps behind the building that led to the trashcans. You laughed in his face the moment he brought you out here, more amused than disappointed. You had to hand it to him, though, it was pretty quiet back here in comparison to the inside. You definitely preferred the privateness, even if it meant the only view was a dingy alley way with brick walls so high they hid the sun, complete with graffiti and the faint smell of...well, garbage.  

“The hell is this?” You snorted.  

Matteo rolls his eyes and walks down, two cans of soda in hand, taking a seat on the third to last step before turning to look at you again with a smirk. “What? I didn’t say it was VIP.”  

You sigh and move to take a seat next to him, setting your styrofoam take-out boxes carefully in the space between you two. “Yeah, well you made it sound that way.”  

“Someone’s sounding a little ungrateful. Would you rather be squished in a booth with some stranger?” Matteo scoffs, but it’s clear he isn’t actually offended.  

“..Guess not. But I definitely think I just saw a rat-“ 

“Oh, hush-!” Matteo laughs and shakes his head at you before handing you your soda can, which you accept with a sly smile.  

You grab one of the boxes and set it in your lap, the warmth seeping through to your shorts. The food smells heavenly , even more so after you open the lid. You’d ordered Piadine , the thin bread stuffed with prosciutto, burrata, fresh arugula, and roasted peppers. It was absolutely perfect, and you didn’t even wait for Matteo before you started chowing down, inwardly ascending as the flavors blessed your taste buds.  

Matteo watches you with a knowing smile before opening up his own container. He had been super indecisive at the counter, so he ended up getting the same thing as you to avoid holding up the line any further. You notice that he doesn’t pray before he begins eating.   

“So..” He begins, voice muffled by the food in his mouth.  

“..So?”  

“How’s life been?”  

“Don’t be cliche.” You smile faintly.  

He laughs and shrugs, popping the tab on his soda can and taking a sip. “Alright- fine...How was your conversation with your pal?” 

‘God, don’t spoil my mood now.’ You think to yourself. “It went well, I think. He..he told me he just got busy, and promised we’d hang out again.” You wish that’s what had happened. 

“Ah, that’s good then..I was a bit worried for you..” Matteo pauses for a moment. “..my curiosity’s been itchin’ at me all day..” He says quietly. 

You turn to look at him, alerted by the shift in his tone. “..Curiosity about what?” 

…  

“Is that guy my replacement?” Matteo finally says. He says it lightly, but you can tell there’s a bit of genuine stress behind the words.  

Even still, the question catches you off guard and nearly has you spitting out your drink.  

“Huh..?”  

“You’ve got a crush on him, right?” Matteo leans back, stretching his legs out.  

How the fuck..? “..W-..what makes you think that?”  

“Oh, please. You used to have one on me, you think I couldn’t recognize just by how obsessively you’d been staring at him earlier?”  

Well, that’s humiliating.  

“Shit…” You set your sandwich down, swallowing the bit of food in your mouth before turning to him again. “It’s..more complicated than that.”  

Matteo nods as if he already understood. “I imagine it is, if he’s been avoiding you.” He sounds sympathetic.  

“..He’s..not your replacement, though. Things’ll never work out with him so..I’ve decided he’s better as a friend..” Thinking about it further, Matteo’s choice of the word ‘replacement’ seems oddly specific.  

“Damn..sorry to hear that.”  

“It’s whatever..I’d rather it be like that than ruin a good friendship.” Saying the words out loud makes your chest feel tight.  

He nods again in agreement but is quiet besides that.  

“So you really do remember it all, then?” You speak up, what you had been wanting to ask since this morning.  

Matteo looks to you, barely smiling. “‘Course I do. Kind of a hard thing to forget.” You suppose that’s true.  

“..I’m sorry for the way things turned out. Gio is an idiot.” 

“He was defending us. I don’t think I can be upset about that. I guess I was only ever irked by the amount of attention brought on us. Though I guess it would’ve ended up like that either way, hm..”  

That’s..sort of true. Even without Gio kicking the asses of the aggressors, the rumors would’ve kept spreading regardless. The brawl did make it at least 2 times worse, though.  

“..I’ve always wondered if you actually even liked me back then-“ 

“I did.” Matteo cuts in, and the look on his face is a lot more, earnest. He’s serious. It repairs your heart a little, clearing up years of doubt. You can’t help but laugh a little. 

“..And to think you could’ve been my first boyfriend.”  

Matteo smiles. “Would’ve been a pretty rocky relationship. I didn’t know thing the first about being a partner.”  

“Yeah, well, who does at that age? I certainly didn’t. That didn’t matter to me, anyways, I just wanted..-“ You begin to go quiet, realizing you were probably about to admit some deeply embarrassing detail about yourself that you’d suppressed all this time. “..Anyway, it probably would’ve been fun.”  

Matteo hums and sits up a bit, resting his elbows on his knees. “Guess you’re right.”  

It’s silent again for a moment.  

“..How about you, though? Who’s my replacement?” You say with a small smile, using his own rhetoric against him.  

He huffs and shakes his head. “Lucky you, there ain’t one. Which is to be expected when attending a private school..”  

“Ah, yeah..damn that’s rough..So you’ve been single all this time too?”  

“Eh? No, I mean—..I’ve been with a couple guys here and there, mostly from the city..”  

The admission makes you feel sort of..envious, in a way that surprises you. But to know that you’re both in the same helpless situation right now is a comfort.  

“..Well, at least you found something. Pienza is a wasteland.” 

“I’m glad I moved, then.” Matteo chuckles. “..Really, though, it’s not so easy here either. Most guys are just looking for a quick fuck.”  

The hint of detestation and disgust is not even partly disguised in his voice. Suddenly you felt horrible for even bringing it up.  

“..That’s fucked up.” 

“A bit, yeah. But..it’s not like I don’t take up the offers.”  

You weren’t ignorant when it came to things like sex, but it was still something you had yet to experiment with yourself..Mainly due to lack of opportunity but also fear. Hearing Matteo talk about it made you curious, but you didn’t want things to become more uncomfortable, so you try to be subtle.  

“Do you..like it, at least?” You say quietly, fiddling with the tab of your soda can.  

Matteo looks up at your question, smiling faintly. “..For the most part, yeah. It can be kinda dangerous, if you aren’t careful though.” 

“..How so?”  

“Hook up with the wrong kinda guy, and you can find yourself at knife point, or worse.” Matteo’s tone becomes reflective and somber. Just the thought of that is making your skin crawl. You just nod. Matteo realizes he must have frightened you, and he tries to redeem himself by placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Don’t get in over your head about it. It gets easier to point them out.”  

This, in fact, does not make you less mortified. “..I’d rather not have to encounter multiple psycho’s just to be able to ‘point them out.’”  

Matteo chuckles and nods, smiling bashfully. “-Okay fair. But you’ve got me now, so I could always help if you’re worried.”  

“..I dunno if I’m all that interested in meaningless hookups.” You admit softly.  

“That’s…also fair. Probably for the best that you stay that way.” Matteo hums, taking in another bite of food. “..We’re still young. I kind of regret not waiting.”   

You turn to him with a slight frown. This topic was...seeming heavier by the second, slowly crushing your spirit. Perhaps you should save this for some other time, God forbid you inadvertently make Matteo feel judged or attacked. 

“Hey- tell me about how you got expelled.” You say suddenly, nudging his shoulder. Matteo’s grin returns, and he looks grateful for the topic switch.  

“Wellll…I stole some kid’s cigarettes, and he wasn’t too happy about that, so he tried to kick my ass. Obviously, I didn’t let that happen, but when it came to explaining everything to the headmaster, he wasn’t very sympathetic towards my cause. They sorta had a zero-tolerance policy for violence at that school.” 

You chuckle a bit at how ridiculous the whole thing sounds. “Oh, yeah? What happened to the other guy?”  

Matteo sucks his teeth and shakes his head, swishing his soda can around. “Dude got a slap on the wrist, suspension, since technically I was the aggressor.” 

“‘ Technically ’? You totally were, dumbass.” 

“Fuck off, that guy overreacted. I was gonna give ‘em back..” Matteo murmurs shrewdly. 

“Liar-!”  

The two of you burst into laughter. It’s easy..it’s calm..it’s perfect. For all the directions you imagined this reunion would go, this wasn’t at all one of them, but you were loving it. You sit there for at least another hour and a half catching up with Matteo and enjoying your lunch, the conversation mostly focusing on how his life was during private school, and all the different experiences he’s gone through. Eventually, though, the heat becomes too much for the both of you, and you offer to give him a ride back home, which he of course accepts.  

When you pull up to his apartment, Matteo steps out of the car, but doesn’t immediately turn to go inside. Instead, he bends down to put his head through the window, staring at you with a reminiscent smile.  

“I really enjoyed this. ‘Ts like the universe knew exactly who I needed to see.”  

You smile, too. You knew the feeling all too well. “I know, right? Feels like my day got 100x better.”  

“Glad I could be of service then.” Matteo feigns a bow before laughing softly. “Alright, man..I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

Tomorrow ..You had nearly forgotten that you’d actually be seeing this guy every day from now on. But by no means were you upset about it.  

“Yeah..see ya.” You give him a nod and watch on quietly as he starts towards his home, soon disappearing into it. 

As you begin your own drive back home, the total absence of company allows you to reflect a little further. You feel..abnormally guilty. Maybe it had been there from the beginning, but the appearance of Matteo and the subsequent severing of your romantic attachment with Leone felt horribly fated. It felt like cheating, in a sense, even though you and Leone didn’t have anything going on. Things with Matteo had just been a little too natural . Should you tell Leone about Matteo? Would he even care? It felt like you would be keeping a secret by not doing so.  

Besides, it would be worse for Leone to find out on his own, lest he jump to conclusions…You wanted to play things safe, since you and Leone’s relationship was already evidently on extremely thin ice. 

Perhaps you’d leave out the details of Matteo being your first ‘ almost ’ boyfriend though. 

Then it really would seem like Leone was his replacement.  

Chapter Text

Showing up to school the next day felt like genuine hell. After emptying his entire stomach into the toilet, he felt completely drained and ill, and he doesn’t even know how he managed to make it through the rest of the school day. He’d sluggishly left the bathroom and went back to class, slumping into his seat and proceeding to zone out until the bell rang. He didn’t waste a single second leaving that building, and heading straight for the bus stop; if he’d knocked into anyone on the way there, he’d promptly ignored them.  

The minute he got home, Leone did two things; journal, and then sleep. Luckily his father was still at work, so he wasn’t bombarded with questions about how his first day of school was, loaded with false concern and interest. That would’ve been his breaking point, for christ sake. He’d thought about praying again, but was too tired to do so, and ended up falling asleep facedown with the rosary strewn loosely through his palm. The comfort there was dwindling anyways. 

But now, sitting in this classroom again, Leone is almost unbelieving that he’s actually here. He can’t help but feel like he’d overreacted severely yesterday..but really that was just the humiliation talking.  

Y/N is doing that thing again, which makes it all the more unnerving; that thing where he acts like nothing has happened. He hadn’t waited for Leone at the bus stop, but the moment he entered the classroom he was talking to Leone as usual, asking how he slept and what he had for breakfast.  

‘My mom switched to a different brand of coffee for some reason, so I kinda feel like shit..’ Y/N had murmured. He did seem a little mellow, but not in the uncomfortable or disheartened way that Leone had expected.  

It simultaneously soothed his soul and freaked him out at the same time. He was currently sitting on the edge of Leone’s desk, using a mechanical pencil to carve some mindless doodles against the wood as they all waited for the teacher to arrive and officially start the day. Leone was watching on silently with his chin in his palm, staring as the wood splintered and chaffed.  

This was what he wanted. He cannot— would not change his mind again.   

“Oh yeah, I went to this amazing restaurant yesterday after school- God, that was the best Piadine I’ve had in forever.” Y/N speaks, looking to Leone with a grin.  

“..what do you think your mother would say if she heard you talking like that?” Leone utters quietly. The standard banter was starting to come back to him. 

Y/N snorts and shakes his head. “Oh please, she knows her limits.” 

“..You’re such an asshole.” Leone even smiles a little.  

“What? I’m just saying. It’s not her specialty, no big deal.”  

Leone rolls his eyes and flicks a bit of the scratched-up wood dust in his direction, which Y/N dramatically bats away with a short laugh. The next moment passes by quickly, and Leone almost doesn’t notice it; another guy enters the room and starts making his way to the back of the class. At his arrival, Y/N lifts his head and looks to the guy, an immediate smile spreading on his face. The guy smiles back and then takes his seat.  

… 

What was that?  

To Leone’s knowledge, Y/N didn’t have any other close friends besides..well himself. Leone turns his head to look at the guy again, but nothing about him looks familiar. ‘ Does he even fucking go here?’ It’s only the second day, surely Y/N couldn’t have made a new friend that fast, right? What’s worse is that it was making Leone feel a certain…way. Which he hated. He looks to Y/N again and tries to chill out a bit before speaking.  

“.. Who’s the blonde chick?” Playing it off with humor did not exactly hide the edge in Leone’s voice.  

Y/N noticeably pauses for a moment, before he resumes picking at the desk, the corners of his lips curling slightly. “Very Funny. He sits next to me.” Y/N gestures to his own seat without looking up.  

Leone is not at all satisfied with this answer. There’s something else not being said. But he can’t press it, or else he’ll ruin the mood..so instead he just nods.  

“What are you doing after school today?” Y/N asks, wiping wood flakes off the desk and finally setting his pencil down.  

“Dunno..I guess homework if we’ve got any..” 

“And after that?”  

“..Nothin’.”  

“ Wanna go hill rolling again?”  

“Are you crazy? I nearly cracked a rib doing that bullshit. No way.” Leone huffs.  

“Okay well- you come up with somethin’ better then. I wanna hang out.”  

Leone was hesitant to do so. On one hand, it meant Y/N really was doing his best to ‘forget’ and just go back to their usual routine, but on the other hand...who’s to say this won’t just lead to the same thing that happened at the mall?  

“..I’ll think of something and tell you later, no guarantee though.”  

Y/N sighs, but shrugs anyways as he wipes his hands off on his jeans, getting up from the desk. “Kay.” He gives Leone a brief wave before walking back to his desk. Leone restrains himself from looking behind him.  

 ————— 

The rest of the day is as boring as one might expect it to be. Leone struggled his way through German class, asking himself over and over again why he hadn’t taken it some other year. Y/N seemed to share the same sentiments while they were discussing it during recess, claiming that he’d rather ‘do another year of English over this’, to which Leone agreed.  

Leone still hadn’t really thought of what they should do, even now as they walk out of the building together. Everything seemed like it could hold risk; going to Leone’s house, going to his house, going to the fields..anything private, really.  

It makes Leone realize that he doesn’t trust himself, and he feels ill again.  

All these uncontrollable urges and unwarranted thoughts were, in fact, only growing behind the scenes. Outwardly, he’s moving past all the confusing shit and forcing Y/N to do the same, but on the inside it’s all still brewing violently. It’s frustrating .  

“—Anyways, I reckon I’ll probably request a tutor soon. Or does it seem too early?” Y/N’s voice cuts back in, with Leone having been spaced out for the umpteenth time today.  

“..Tutor for what, exactly?”  

“Mathematics. Are you even listening?” Y/N raises a brow, almost pouting.  

“Oh..” Leone runs a hand through his hair and attempts to recover. “It’s only day two..give yourself time to get the hang of it.”  

Y/N groans. “It’s never taken me this long to ‘get the hang of it.’ I think I’m broken.”  

“You’re so dramatic, shut up.” Leone shoves his shoulder.  

“I just don’t wanna fail, can you blame me-?”  

Leone is about to shove him again when he hears someone calling out from behind them.  

“Hey- wait up!” Some baritone that Leone doesn’t recognize. But Y/N does, apparently, since he immediately stops in his tracks and turns around, waving. Leone turns to look, too.  

The Blondie.  

He jogs up to them, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Jesus, I thought I'd never catch up. D’ya hate school that much?”  

“What do you think?” Y/N chuckles, tucking his thumbs into the straps of his backpack. Leone just stands there, looking between the two of them. The sudden presence of the guy put Leone on guard. Y/N seems to remember that Leone is actually there after a moment, and he clears his throat, looking stumped.  

“Leone, this is Matteo.” He gestures towards him, and ‘Matteo’ flashes a smile.  

“..The guy from this morning.” They were clearly closer than Y/N had let on, judging by the physical contact that he still had yet to step out of.  

Y/N nods slowly. Leone doesn’t realize how hostile he’d sounded. “Yeah...exactly.” 

“..cool.”  

Awkward silence.  

“-Where’re you guys headed?” Matteo pipes up, his hand dropping back to his side as he looks between them. Y/N looks to Matteo, and then to Leone with a questioning look.  

“Uh, dunno. I was waiting for Leo to tell me.”  

Leone wants to go home . He shrugs. “..I still haven’t thought of anything.”  

“Mind if I butt in, then? I know a good place to chill.” Matteo smiles.  

Y/N looks nervous, and Leone can guess why. He knows this is uncalled for. They were supposed to be repairing their friendship, and now there’s another person being added to the equation? But…maybe Leone should give the guy a chance. He doesn’t seem aggressive. Maybe a little loud, but friendly, nonetheless. Y/N clearly had taken a liking to him at least a bit. Leone didn’t want to seem like a stingy prick and make things worse.  

“..Yeah, okay.” Leone says first, eliciting a surprised look from Y/N, at which he just shrugs.  

Matteo beams. “Sick. Yo, Y/N, you’ve got your car today, right? It’s a bit far out.”  

Y/N nods, pulling his keys from the side pocket of his bag and jangling them, still eyeing Leone. “Always.”  

“Sweet. Let’s go.” Matteo begins walking in the direction of the parking lot, Leone and Y/N tailing behind him side by side.  

It’s quiet for a moment before Y/N turns to Leone, studying his expression.  

“..Are you really alright with him coming? I can tell him to leave, we don’t have to hang with him-.”  

Leone shakes his head, holding onto his backpack a little tighter. “It’s alright. He seems cool.” Leone also felt a little less tense about hanging out with Y/N now that there was witness, so to speak. If he so happened to get any sort of urge, it would be quelled by the fact that Matteo was present. 

Y/N’s gaze lingers on him, but he ultimately accepts Leone’s words and faces forward again. “..Mkay.”  

 ————— 

The place that Matteo directs them to is—as he’d previously asserted—on the outer banks of Montepulciano, in a more rural setting that reminds Leone too much of Pienza. He can’t deny how gorgeous it is, though. To get to the actual spot, they’d had to go off-road, which made Leone nervous as hell considering Y/N had only ever driven on paved road, and his vehicle wasn’t exactly...equipped for the grasslands. They made it through alive though, and were now parked at the top of a hill overlooking a heavily wooded area.  

Leone turned to look at Matteo in the backseat. “Don’t tell me you plan on getting us lost in the forest?” Leone had calmed down since earlier, and behaved less abrasively towards him. Matteo laughs and shakes his head, pushing open the door and getting out of the car, prompting Leone and Y/N to do the same.  

“No, of course not..There’s a creek down there, if you can believe it.” 

Glancing down again, Leone did not believe it. The leaves and tree trunks were so muddled and cramped, he imagined they’d need a machete to cut through it all.  

“Lead the way, then.” Y/N sighs from where he’s leaning against the hood of the car. Matteo chuckles and gestures them to do so, moving towards the edge of the hill and beginning to step down the steep ridges.  

The three of them barely make it down in one piece, with Y/N rolling his ankle twice, Matteo losing his footing at least once, and Leone accidentally slipping on his ass and getting dirt all over his shorts. He swears to himself that he’ll stop fucking around on hills. It’s worth it, though, when they get to the bottom. The creek is overshadowed by the incessant cluster of trees, the scenery aided by bushels of honeysuckles in varying shades of magenta and canary.  

Light brown sand crunches beneath Matteo’s sneakers as he makes his way over to the stream, and he leans down to glide his fingers across the surface. Y/N comes up beside Leone, still glancing around.  

“..’guess this is a pretty calming environment..” He murmurs. 

“Told ya.” Matteo snuffs, taking a step back from the water and untying his shoes, kicking them off to the side along with his sock and rolling up his pant legs. Leone and Y/N both watch on silently as Matteo walks right into the creek, and then continuing to the other side of it, climbing over a few rocks on his way.  

“Where the hell are ya’ goin’?” Y/N says, picking up a stick off the ground and starting to trace the sand. 

“Just gettin’ a lil something—you’ll see.” Matteo shouts back, making his way onto the dry land again before disappearing behind a large tree. Y/N looks to Leone, and Leone to him, and they give each other equally confused glances. After a minute or two, Matteo reemerges, and Leone immediately notices the long white stick positioned between his lips.  

“Cigarettes?” Y/N seems to have realized as well, no longer dragging the stick he had across the ground, and rather staring wide eyed at Matteo as he trudges back through the water to them.  

“Mh-hm.” Matteo smirks and shakes the excess droplets from his feet, digging around in his front pocket and fishing out a lighter, red translucent plastic clutched in his palm. “Want one?” 

Y/N drops his stick and wipes his hands on his pants, apprehensive. Leone takes a step away , staring daggers into the side of Y/N’s head. Now he had a reason not to like this guy.  

“Uh..no thanks.” Y/N’s words don’t match the intrigued glint in his eye. “..My parents would kill me.”  

Matteo hums in understanding, turning now to Leone. “How ‘bout you, pal?”  

Leone, of course, shakes his head immediately. If Y/N’s parents would ‘kill’ him, Leone’s father would desecrate him if he found out he’d been smoking. Even being around the smell of cigarettes was risky, God forbid it stick to his clothing. Matteo doesn’t seem intent on pressuring them though, as he just shrugs and lights up, the amber glow of fire fighting against the glare of the mid-day sun. Leone lets out a sigh of minimal relief, sitting down in the sand.  

“Did ya’ steal those too?” Y/N says to Matteo with a wide smile. Leone doesn’t understand, so he looks to Matteo for clues.  

“Eh? And if I did?” Matteo retorts, blowing out a cloud of grey smoke with a grin.  

This is some kind of inside reference that Leone didn’t know of, he realizes. His fingers dig into the sand beneath him, and he tries to ignore them. The stench of the cigarette keeps wafting his way, and it’s almost making his nose burn. Or perhaps he was still searching for excuses.  

Y/N laughs softly and moves towards the creek again, reclaiming his stick and using it to carve at the wet sand instead, making the drawings more permanent. Leone watches him as he waddles around, finding himself placated by his simple mindedness; his effortless smile, the aura of his excitement, so much so that he almost forgets Matteo is even there. That is, until he notices the boy has been staring at him staring at Y/N this entire time. Leone gulps and glances away.  

“Leone, are you into sports?” Matteo asks suddenly. Y/N huffs a laugh.  

“..No, not really.” Leone answers lowly, clearing his throat.  

“Yeah? You seem like a football kind of guy.”  

“Dunno what makes you think that..”  

“Long legs, lean frame..” Matteo gestures at Leone’s torso, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette. Leone looks down to his own legs, brows pinching together. He wasn’t sure if he was being complimented or teased, but he hated it either way. He becomes defensive again.  

“I used to play, but not competitively.”  

“Ah, I see..” Matteo’s eyes linger on Leone for a moment longer than he can stand. ‘Is he..sizing me up?’  

“Don’t let him fool you. We’ve run a couple games before. He’s pretty beastly when he gets into it!” Y/N shouts from where he’s moved a bit further away, seemingly picking at some stones buried in the dirt. Leone would punch him right now if he could.  

“..Beastly, you say? I’d kill to see that.” Matteo says, lips curving.  

“I guess next time I’ll bring my ball and we can scrimmage..” Y/N begins making his way back over, carrying a handful of assorted rocks, which he starts presenting one by one to Leone. Leone nods his head to the few that are worthy of keeping, otherwise telling him to toss the rest. As far as the prospect of playing football with Matteo, Leone was almost completely uninterested… almost . There was this quiet urge he had to prove himself a better player.  

Matteo nods and releases another puff of smoke, before tossing his cigarette to the ground, and picking up a stubby branch to fully put it out. “I’m a bit rusty, so it’ll take a lot of warming up..” Matteo turns and goes back into the water, sloshing his feet around and pulling his pant legs up a little more, starting to move in the opposite direction.  

Y/N laughs a little at that but soon goes quiet and stares down at Leone contemplatively. Leone looks up to him with a curious gaze, and Y/N takes a seat next to him, still staring down at the stones in his hand. He’s being..weird.  

“Leo..” He starts, voice soft in a way that makes Leone that much more attentive.  

“Hm?”  

“There’s..a bit more to the story about Matteo.” He sounds like he could explode with guilt. Leone isn’t sure how he feels about being told half-truth’s yet. He stays silent, and waits for him to continue. “Basically—well we knew each other back in middle school..we were pretty close friends. He ended up moving away, to here, and so…”  

Leone stops listening, automatically retreating into his thoughts again. An old friend? Somehow that only makes Leone all the more sullen. What he was undoubtedly feeling in this moment, was threatened . It was perhaps the most restless feeling he’d ever encountered in his life, the sand beneath his palms shifting from smooth and comforting to prickly and irksome. Leone thinks he could’ve dealt with his initial emotions civilly if Matteo had just been some new guy on the block, but factoring in that he and Y/N had history beyond Leone himself was...an entirely different ballpark.  

“—Anyways, I just..I wanted you to know. I get its kinda weird since it’s just been us all this time, and I didn’t want to leave you in the dark, y’know?”  

Leone looks to him, blinking for a seconds, and then looks out in front of him again, mentally taking several deep breaths. “..Okay. Thanks.” Is all he manages to say. Better than throwing a tantrum like some kid getting his candy stolen.  Y/N stares at Leone, probably expecting a different response, or at least one with a little more life to it. But instead of saying whatever it is that’s on the tip of his tongue, Y/N just smiles mildly.  

“..Yeah. Thanks for uh..understanding, I guess.”  

Leone nods, and he expects it to go silent again, but Y/N quickly clears the tense moment by starting to show Leone his rocks again. Leone appreciates that. He would save the sulking for when he got home.  

“Here..you should take this one. Kinda reminds me of you.” Y/N places a stone in his palm and holds it up to Leone’s face. It still has speckles of dirt on it, but it’s..pretty. The pebble holds an irregular shape, flat and smooth on one end, and then curving into a lump, littered with tiny craters. It’s a yellowish hue, like mustard with brown undertones, and grey, bolt-like veins running every which way.  

Leone carefully grabs it from Y/N’s hand and takes it into his own, smiling lightly. He traces his fingers along it, further inspecting it, before turning it on its back, curious to see if the pattern wraps all the way around.  

On the bottom of the stone, hidden from one's first glance, there’s a large black crater dead in its center. A pit. Leone’s smile turns sour. 'Of course'.   

“I like it.” Leone says simply, slipping the stone into his pocket and not daring to look at it any longer. Y/N seems happy, and goes back to sorting, tossing away another gaggle of unflattering rocks.  

Matteo comes tramping through the water again, the sound of its swooshing garnering their attention. Despite folding up his pants, they still seemed to have gotten wet, considering the way the khaki fabric is more of a muddy brown. He waves to the two of them.  

“You guys should totally come feel this water. It’s fucking amazing.” He says in a dreamy tone, reaching down and scooping some into his hands as if to demonstrate.  

Y/N snickers, setting his rocks aside. “Not a chance. What if there’s snakes?”  

“Snakes-My god, you’re such a pussy .” Matteo rolls his eyes, emphasizing the word. Y/N scowls at him, but Matteo moves closer, reaching down again and flicking some water Y/N’s way, lightly splashing him.  

“Screw you, asshole!” Y/N tries to sound mad, but he’s immediately getting up, throwing off his shoes and socks and rushing into the water, nearly soaking Matteo in the process with how carelessly he’d entered. Matteo laughs loudly and shields his face as Y/N starts ruthlessly kicking the water at him.  

Leone gazes on from where he’s seated, iridescent tranquility now turned foamy and opaque with thrill. It looks so… fun . He couldn’t deny it no matter how petty he felt on the inside. After a minute, Y/N seems satisfied with his revenge, and they both call a truce, panting heavily in the middle of the creek.  

“Leone!” Matteo shouts, waving him over, he and Y/N smiling wildly. He was...inviting him. Leone is more than surprised. He was expecting this to be another moment of theirs, the brief ones they’d been sharing all evening without him…yet here he was. Extending a hand.  

An olive branch.  

Leone could not refuse. He tosses his socks and shoes aside, standing from his spot in the sand. This time, he was smart enough to tie his hair back into a ponytail. He awkwardly steps into the stream, and at first he’s worried that he’s completely shifted the mood. But just as quickly, Matteo and Y/N hit him with a surprise attack, simultaneously splashing him with water from both directions, giggling and chortling at the way Leone stumbles and sputters a string of curses. Once he’s regained his footing though, he hits them right back, chasing them down the twisty creek.  

In the moment, Leone thinks, ‘I can live with this.’  

————— 

Sitting face to face now with his journal, though, he figures there’s a wild difference between endorphin fueled placidity and genuine acceptance. Yet again, the day had ended with Leone carrying way too much on his mind, like a ballon pumped excessively with helium on the verge of combustion. The only way to combat this, was of course, to log everything. Detangle the wires, make sense of it all. And so, Leone grabs hold of his pen, flipping his booklet open to a blank page, and beginning:  

[Tuesday September 3rd, 1996]  

[ Today was..better than yesterday, I guess. At the very least, it didn’t involve puking , so that speaks for itself. But..it was still strange. Things started off okay…things between Y/N and I were seemingly back to normal. I keep telling myself that this is for the best, but here I must express that I’m not so sure. I have to be honest with myself; it’s the only way I can move on.   

Anyway, I have regrets. Unsurprisingly. I hate myself for it, but I wish I could see him look at me again in the way that he did before…his smile is not the same anymore. It’s reserved…cautious. I wish it were not so. But it was my own doing, so I have to deal with the consequences.   

What’s more is that Y/N introduced me to someone new today. Matteo...didn’t catch his last name. Some blonde kid. Apparently, he and Y/N went to middle school together. (A fact which was not immediately presented to me, by the way. I had speculated on it anyways.) I zoned out while Y/N was explaining it all, because of the sheer rage I was experiencing in that moment. Several factors contributed to this;  

-Y/N partially lied to me. (We are meant to be friends, why lie?)  

-Matteo’s arrival made me feel irritated with how fucking smug he looked (Not to mention inserting himself into our afternoon hang out.)   

-The presentation of competition .   

And yes, I’m well aware that the irrational parts of my mind have painted something likely to be pure and innocent as ‘competition.’ but I can’t help myself, (it’s so ridiculously childish.) Matteo’s presence...I feel like it targets my position as Y/N’s friend. (I use that word...perplexedly) I don’t know a whole lot about the guy just from today, and that means I’m already several steps behind. Y/N loves the guy. Matteo’s all smiles and witty jokes and badassery, he fucking smokes for Christs sake. I don’t know if Y/N is into that kind of thing anyway, but he definitely looked like he is.    

But now, I have to ask myself why I feel threatened, something which I neglected to address during our time at the creek.]   

Leone pauses, fingers gripped tightly around his pen. There was a reason he neglected it; it makes him feel positively insane .  

[ …It is because I fear Matteo will become Y/N’s center of romantic attraction...rather than myself. Even with how disgusted I’d felt about it days ago, I feel absolutely mad considering the idea or possibility that Y/N will no longer—..It’s all very stupidly complicated. I reject the identity of a homosexual, yet desire things like this in the quiet of the moment. It’s maddening .  

I have already made up in my mind that Matteo will beat me out in a game of ‘who’s better,’ God for-fucking-bid he thrashes me in a game of football. His personality, coupled with the fact that he’s a childhood friend puts me at the lowest rung. Y/N is sure to get caught up in all the nostalgia...well, I’m sure he already has. It bothers me so damn much, and I fear it will only grow worse.   

..I can’t deny that I enjoyed splashing around. Made me feel like some idiot kid again, so I guess I can thank Matteo for that and not much more.  

I believe this is what they call ‘ jealousy ’. I’d never have imagined I’d be feeling it because of another man.]   

Leone lets his eyes glaze over that word again. “Jealousy.” In all its hideous glory. If he stared at it any longer, he was sure it would eat him whole.  

His gaze shifts to the yellow stone at the corner of his desk. Face down with the black spot out of sight.   

He clicks his pen and shuts the journal softly, sighing deeply as he returns it to its place beneath the mattress. Just as he’d expected, the pressure clinging to his shoulders was slowly relieved the more he scribbled.  

All that’s left is to sleep, and let the silence of the night wash the rest of it away. 

Chapter Text

It’s been about three weeks since Leone was introduced to Matteo. Since then, he’s become a regular ‘third member’ of sorts to his and Y/N’s typical duo. It’s been…difficult to adjust, to put it lightly. Leone often finds himself drowned out by Matteo’s much louder and more forward commentary, and less than impressed with his tendency to do things very close to breaking the law.  

It’s all been a blur, honestly, considering he’s had to balance school on top of the sudden changes, though thankfully he’s kept his grades up thus far. If there is one thing Leone will give Matteo credit for, it’s that he’s good at German, acting as a free guide for him and Y/N. He had apparently been to Germany several times, and explained as such when they were all studying at Trattoria La Vita. Leone had only been partly paying attention. 

Subconsciously, he finds himself doing that a lot; drowning Matteo out, refusing a seat he might offer, making sure he always has a pencil so that he never has to borrow one of his…it isn’t until after the fact that he recognizes how he’s behaving. He only feels mildly guilty about it. 

Yes—yes, Leone should be doing everything in his power to get along with the guy, lest he ends up creating more tension between himself and Y/N, but to be fair, he is trying his hardest. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t still keeping his distance.  

The jealousy is still incredibly present, unsurprisingly, which has led to the subsequent overflow of journal entries almost everyday;  

[Thursday September 12, 1996]  

[—we were at study hall today after school, and I had to restrain myself from stabbing my pen right through his fucking eye, giggling and snuggling up to Y/N like a god damned kitten —]   

[Monday September 16, 1996]  

[—had the gall to wrap his arm around his shoulder, and pulled him real close while we were walking to the vending machine. Has he no fucking shame? God I hate him.—]  

[Friday September 20, 1996]   

[—and then, he winked . Am I the only one who finds that completely inappropriate? Watching the two of them is insufferable—]   

..And when he wasn’t fuming over his dislike for Matteo, he was, of course, wrestling with his sexuality and feelings for his best friend again; 

[Thursday September 12, 1996]  

[—..But I wish I could make him smile the way Matteo does. I used to be able to but—]  

[Monday September 16, 1996]  

[—I want to ruffle up his hair again, watch him get all pissed off. That was our thing.—]  

[Friday September 20, 1996]   

[—but Y/N complimented my outfit today. It wasn’t even anything special, but Christ did it make me warm inside; it was horrible.—]  

(Occasionally, Leone even dared to write out the more...sensual topics hidden in the deepest corners of his mind. It was like ridding himself of a virus, or at least that’s how he justified it. He always felt awfully ashamed afterwards.)  

The combination of these polarizing feelings is beginning to take a toll on him, he swears. His thoughts were becoming more immature and impulsive by the day. Leone has reflected on that kiss with Y/N now more than ever. One day, he’d even considered letting it slip in a conversation they’d been having, just to spite Matteo, but he quickly realized how dumb of an idea that was and clamped his mouth shut.  

It made him contemplate something, though, that he hadn’t previously… ’is Matteo even gay?’’ It was kind of an epiphany; He’d spent all this time being jealous about the guy, and didn’t even know if he actually saw Y/N that way. The way Matteo presents himself on the outside might not necessarily reflect who he is on the inside ...It made him feel like a total dumbass when the thought first occurred, but at the back of Leone’s mind...it didn’t really matter either way.  

Even if Matteo couldn’t return Y/N’s sentiments, it was just the mere thought of not having his… attention , that plagued Leone so. Whether that be as his friend or as his...lover? he couldn’t fathom the idea.  

Besides, he was maybe 80% sure the guy is gay, if the way he dresses is anything to go off of... ’maybe that’s a bit hypocritical...’ If that wasn’t enough to tell, perhaps the way he treated Leone was a sign. He got the sense that Matteo hated him, just as much as he did Matteo. He was incredibly discreet about it, but he’d catch him giving him a side eye here and there, cutting him off when he was about to speak up, or brutishly teasing him in a manner that one might write off as ‘playful.’ He supposes it’s only fair that he would act that way, since Matteo was technically ‘here first,’ but Leone doesn’t give a shit about that, either.  

Perhaps he wasn’t so crazy to think that this was some kind of nonsensical competition. He loathed it all.  

However, once the journal was closed, Leone didn’t allow himself to carry his thoughts over into the next day, or he at least tried his hardest not to. Once the leather met its other side, he kept everything contained until he got home and was able to pour it out all over the pages again. It was routine at this point.  

And today was no different. After school had ended, the three of them took a trip to the library to study for the upcoming test they had at the end of the week.  

“Prof. Barone is such a dick. It’s too early in the year to be handing out tests already..” Y/N complains with a huff as they slide into their usual table at the back end of the library.  

“Stop whining. We’ve been in school for several weeks now, it was bound to happen.” Leone replies, setting his backpack on the table and beginning to fish out his notebook and pencil bag. 

Matteo sits, of course, next to Y/N, snickering as he pulls out his own notebook. “Aren’t you supposed to be a star student? I swear, all you do is complain.”  

Y/N scoffs and rolls his eyes, flipping open a philosophy textbook to a marked page, and setting it at the end of the table so that everyone has a good view.  

“Just ‘cause I’m smart doesn’t mean I can’t make critiques . I like breezing my way through school, this is too damn much.” 

“You’re lazy.” Leone points out, raising a brow as he starts writing out a title at the top of his page.  

“Eh, he’s not wrong..you’ve always been that way hm?” Matteo smirks, resting his arm on the back of Y/N’s seat, twirling his pencil in his other hand. 

Good god, he hated it when they did this. Matteo would always vaguely bring up something from their old middle school days, and they would get swept up in reminisce, all bittersweet and what-fucking-not. It was like watching an old married couple who could not for the life of them live in the present. It made Leone feel...invisible. He couldn’t contribute at all to the conversation, so he just had to sit there silently until the moment was finally over.  

Their proximity to each other was not helping one bit.  

Y/N gives Matteo a halfhearted glare and goes on about how, if anything, he’s more proactive now than he was when he was younger. Matteo refutes, and Leone is about to start drowning him out when he says something that makes him pause.  

“Guess back then you were spending all your energy chasing after me.” --and there’s this teasingly evil smile that spreads across his face.  

Leone looks up from where he’d been writing, just in time to see the two of them looking at each other…but Y/N isn’t smiling at all, not even his eyes hold a hint of amusement, which also makes Matteos expression falter.  

‘“Chasing after him..?”  What the hell is that supposed to mean?’   

“Jesus, Matteo..” Y/N grumbles, finally breaking the silence, but not in a particularly relieving way. Y/N looks at Leone, and he knows that face. It’s guilt. But what for? Matteo is still staring at Y/N, seemingly still confused at the reaction and probably not knowing how to move on from it. He ends up taking his arm from around Y/N’s chair, and actually opening his notebook.  

..Okay. Leone is not stupid; there’s something here that he’s not being told. He too goes back to writing, but he can barely focus on the words he’s copying down. ‘Chasing..’ Did he mean literally or metaphorically? Judging from Y/N’s response it had to be the latter. There was even more history between them, then?  

Fantastic. More secrets.  

Leone very quickly becomes agitated at this revelation, and nearly splinters the plastic of his pencil with how harshly he’s gripping it. The three of them continue to steal glances at each other, Leone still speculating, Y/N’s skin partly reddened from what Leone assumes is embarrassment, and Matteo looking mostly at Y/N trying to make sense of it all.  

Leone can’t bring himself to just flat out ask what Matteo meant by his comment...he fears what the answer might be, and frankly he was too upset to hear from either of them right now.  

Eventually, Y/N picks up conversation again like it’s nothing, easing the tension floating about the table. Matteo happily slips back into the casual banter, and Leone thinks he would’ve preferred the silence. But he goes along with it anyways, grateful for the opportunity to steer his thoughts to something more mindless.  

 ————— 

By the time Leone finally gets home, the sun is beginning to set, and he’s surprised by how long he’d managed to survive that situation, but it’s fair to say it became more relaxed again after about an hour. Leone was more so proud of that fact that they’d actually gotten a good chunk of studying done, reviewing several analysis skills and the intro to metaphysics. He was starting to feel more confident about the test, so at least there was that to give him comfort.  

That didn’t take away from the fact that he still had so much to journal, though. It was almost a pain, having to wait to get home to write down all his brewing thoughts, but Leone thinks it would be worse if he were to be writing those kinds of things in public where others could peer over his shoulder at any given moment.  

And so, he enters the house with a sense of duty, kicking off his shoes and hanging his backpack on its hanger beside the door before making his way towards the staircase, shouting ‘I’m home!’ To his father, who he can hear is watching the news in the living room. Not unusual. But before Leone can take make it up the first hassle of stairs, his father’s voice calls back to him; 

“Leone.”  

It’s not unlike his typical tone, curt and low. Leone does wonder what he might want though. Most days, they were scarcely on speaking terms, mainly only communicating when either of them left the house, or chores needed to be completed. Leone still turns around, though, and paces softly into the archway of the living room. He’s met with the sight of his father reclined against the couch, still bearing his uniform minus the hat, an empty wine glass reflecting the TV’s motion sat calmly on the coffee table.  

“Yes, sir?”  

His father is completely silent…Leone doesn’t even hear him breathing. Now he’s getting nervous. After a moment, his father straightens up on the couch a bit, grabbing the remote and clicking the volume down, making the room eerily still. He hasn’t looked at Leone even once.  

His father turns and grabs something from beside him, tossing something out onto the table in front of him with a gentle thud, along with a brief clattering. The wine glass threatens to tip over. Leone’s heart stops. He doesn’t need to see it to know what it is. His first instinct is to run over and grab it, shield his father’s eyes from his disgrace, but he knows it’s too late. He does not move. He does not speak.  

“..I found this.” His father says plainly. “I was starting to get an odd feeling. You’re hardly home anymore, and when you are, you lock yourself in that room of yours.” He pauses. “At first I suspected you were attempting to sneak those raucous CD’s into my home again, trying to listen to them undercover...so I went looking around.”  

He turns his head to face Leone, and he internally flinches at the fierce look in his eyes…shattered glaciers revealing an abyss. Sharp. Haunting .  

“This..” He picks up the journal in his hand, turning it this way and that, detestation clamping at his jaw. “This is not what I expected to find.” He uses his other hand to grab hold of the eyeliner and lipstick. The soothing brashness of his voice was quickly becoming… caustic . His father looks to him, now with a bruising grip around the items, waiting for Leone to speak.  

Leone can’t . His mind is everywhere and nowhere at the same time, seeking refuge from the terror in his veins but finding it absolutely nowhere; not in the clock on the wall, or the fading sun peeking through the shutters, or the quiet mutterings of the TV. It’s impossible.  

“Explain this to me, Leone.” His father is visibly growing impatient. He stands up from the couch with the items still in tow, and Leone feels a shiver up his spine. He shakes his head side to side instinctively, a million excuses scratching at his vocal cords, but none escaping. His father continues to approach, slow...composed.  

“ Answer me. ” He doesn’t raise his voice, but it feels like he has with how close he’s gotten. Leone can’t stand to look up at him, and yet can’t shake his gaze. Deep set brow, lips disordered in something way beyond a frown. Leone can smell the scent of his wine from this distance.  

“I..” Leone finally croaks out. “..it was just...fiction..” Leone stumbles terribly over his words, and he winces the moment they’re verbalized. It was perhaps the worst excuse he’d ever come up with. His father is not amused.  

He throws the notebook to the ground, a loud smack as the leather hits against the hardwood, Leone jolting backwards, wide eyed.  

“That’s what you’re going with? Fiction?” His father’s breathing is becoming heavier. “‘Gonna sit here and lie to me, tell me that your dirty fantasies about kissing this boy is innocent‘fiction’? What the fuck are you thinking, Leone!? Have you lost your damn mind? Clearly you have. I knew that boy was trouble…My God, I thought I raised you better than this!” A speckle of spit flies onto Leone’s cheek from how riled up his father has become.  

“Dad I-“ Leone doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say, but he’ll do anything to make the berating end. 

Before Leone can blink he feels a heavy weight crashing against his cheek, surges of pain sparking immediately and sending him to his knees, the sound of the smack echoing throughout the living room. Leone clutches his hand over his face and begins gasping, struggling for air, heart pounding so fast it feels like his bones might shatter. His ears are ringing. He can still feel the heat of his father’s gaze from above him, and Leone is glad that his hair is covering his face now, shading the tears sliding down the bridge of his nose as he sinks further onto his knees.  

Through the gaps of white, Leone sees his father bares an expression of repulsion.  

“I’ll be damned if I let my son fall into the devils palm, prancing around like a depraved sodomite .” His father now throws the makeup to the ground, the eyeliner rolling up next to Leone’s kneecap. “Jesus, can you imagine what your mother would say-?” 

“Don’t bring her into this.” It is the only courage Leone has felt this entire time. His voice is weak and shaky, but he tries, even if it earns him another blow.  

“Watch yourself Leone.” His father’s tone is biting, and Leone’s courage disappears. “You deserve to think about the consequences of your sin. That woman is probably rolling in her fucking grave right now!—“ 

Leone had thought the same thing many times. Hearing his father say it was a different kind of condemning. Cruel.  

“I feel like a god damned failure. She left this earth and put your life in my hands, and I couldn’t even protect you the way I’m meant to, from bullshit like this! Tell me, Leone, what more must I do?!” His father stoops down and grabs a fistful of Leone’s shirt collar, making him face him again. “Tell me!” 

Leone grits his teeth. The vulnerability in his father’s words is...confusing. It feels wrong. It’s heavy, and layered, and Leone cannot for a moment believe that this situation is reality. The guilt of his mother’s death only makes his tears fall faster. Harder. He shakes his head and grapples at his father’s hand, trying to push him away.  

“Let go a’ me-!” Leone chokes out, his other hand shoving at his shoulder. His father’s grip remains firm, and he himself quiet, just watching Leone sob and struggle. A reticent struggle with the awkward sounds of his grunts and their combined breaths of frustration and hurt .  

His father finally releases him, and Leone instantly crawls back on his hands, trying to put distance between them, but not trusting his legs to stand. His father stares at him for a long beat before standing to his full height, adjusting his clothes and taking in a silent breath. It looks like he’s run out of fuel...or perhaps he was less prepared for this conversation than he thought. His expression is almost entirely void of the emotions it had been strained with just seconds ago. It frightened Leone how quickly he could collect himself.  

“..I don’t want you hanging around Y/N any longer. Nor Matteo. Do I make myself clear?”  

… 

“Leone Abbacchio, do I make myself clear ?” His father repeats. Leone’s stomach simmers and he nods. 

“Yes, sir.”  

His father turns, and reclaims his space on the couch, grabbing the remote and returning the TV to its original volume, engulfing the sounds of Leone’s dull cries.  

He’d known he let himself get too comfortable.  

Chapter Text

Leone’s father had never hit him before.  

The man hardly ever raised his voice, for that matter…he never had to. Leonardo Abbacchio harnessed power in his demeanor and presence, not the stature of his body or how aggressively he could bare his teeth. He’d created his own aura of authority that was completely impenetrable, making anyone, even a stranger, bend to his word with sweaty palms and an unsteady pulse. Leone was no exception to this invisible pressure. In growing up with the assumption that his father was a stone wall, though, Leone never could’ve predicted this explosive reaction from him.  

He supposes it’s a testament to just how badly he’d screwed up.  

The moment had gone by so quickly. All of it. The moment Leone saw his journal on that table, he entered a state of near vacancy. He could not, for even a second, stop and think about the breach of privacy. The mistrust—the invasion of it all. But rather how engrossed he’d become with his own indulgences and fantasies to the point where he believed he was safe.  

‘As long as I don’t say it out loud, it’s fine.’ ‘No one will know if I do it this way.’ ‘My thoughts are protected here.’  

This was the illusion of comfort.   

Leone can’t blame anyone but himself. That doesn’t mean he isn’t full to the brim with excruciating pain, though. The conversation had thrown so many elements at him; humiliation, guilt, shame, anger, fear—absolutely unrelenting. It only became worse at the mention of his mother. It was a taboo subject around the house, and it had been for over ten years…so to hear it be brought up so abruptly gave Leone mental whiplash.  

She’d died a long time ago, when Leone was only 6 or so. One winter morning, she’d mysteriously fallen ill. Everyone believed it was a common cold, and that it would pass just as quick as it’d come. However, her condition only grew worse as the week went on, and a visit to the hospital revealed that she’d contracted pneumonia. It was devastating, but she assured everyone that she would prevail. She was a kind-hearted woman. People from all over town, people Leone had never even met before, brought flowers and cards of encouragement to her bedside. Some would crouch down and look at Leone with sympathy, telling him to stay strong or positive. 

Those two weeks were perhaps the worst of his life. His mother was deteriorating, and his father wasn’t much better, constantly kneeled at his wife’s side, keeping her company and forgoing meals and even taking off from work. As young as he was, Leone couldn’t comprehend it all, but recognized that things were bleak.   

Even more so when he saw Leonardo sobbing over his mother’s lifeless body. Leone had just come back from school, transported to the hospital by one of the neighbors, only to be greeted with that gruesome sight. Vases of blue irises and gladiolus surrounding her, wilting . Leone wasted no time joining his father, attempting to hold his mother’s hand, but only feeling its limp chill in return.

The funeral was silent, but crowded. 

A few days before her passing though, both Leone and Leonardo had been accompanying her, with Leone reading her one of his books to keep her entertained, and Leonardo simply spectating, caressing his wife. For a moment, she told Leone to pause, and she made them promise something to her. Made them promise to take care of each other, to love each other unconditionally, and have each other’s backs. They’d agreed. She’d known her time was short.  

Leone knows this is the motivation behind his father’s words, now. Part of him couldn’t help but believe he was right. Leonardo’s desperation to preserve not his legacy, but his honor, was apparent. Even though it hurt to hear, Leone is starting to think he needed this wake-up call. To be brought back to reality…He had been living in delusion for the past few weeks...acting selfishly .  

*Leone turns on his side from where he’s lying in his bed. Somehow the mattress feels less comfortable now. Facing his nightstand, he reaches over and pulls open the bottom drawer, movements stale. From within it he draws out a little lion plushie, worn with age, the once fluffy tail and mane now matted, threads wriggling from its black button eyes. He turns on his back again, holding the animal up in the moonlight. His parents had kept this thing by his side since he was a baby…to remind him of ‘who he is and always will be’. He brings it to his chest, and smothers it in his arms, inhaling its scent of dust and linen. *  

And so now he’s…right back to square one. Stuffed back into a box...he isn’t sure what to label it. It may not be what he wants, but he understands that it’s what’s necessary .  

He doesn’t gripe when his father tells him he’s no longer allowed to have his door closed anymore, doesn’t scream or holler when he’s told he can’t go anywhere but school or the library. He doesn’t even trust himself, why should he expect his father to?  

Leone’s father, though, doesn’t know that Y/N is in his class. He wants it to stay that way. Even if he couldn’t see him outside of school, at least he still had this. He didn’t even care that Matteo would be there too, this was enough. It was going to have to be enough.  

  -###-

When you see Leone the next morning, he looks extremely exhausted, like he was running off a mere 4 hours of sleep or less. You and Matteo are already sitting at his desk where you’ve been perching yourselves for the last few weeks in waiting for him to arrive, only because he grumbles about how much he hates it when you do that. Today when he approaches, though, he doesn’t give his usual display of exaggerated discontent, instead just staring blankly at you, fingers curled tightly at his backpack.  

“Jesus, did ya’ join the undead squad in your sleep?” Matteo snickers, leaning back in the chair and balancing on the two back legs. You smile a bit at the tease, but Leone does not. “...the joke is that you look like a zombie.” Matteo clarifies.  

“-could I have my seat please?” Is all Leone says, tone glum and quiet. It clicks, just then, that something’s wrong. Even though Leone wasn’t particularly a morning person to begin with, he was still usually willing to give some sort of reaction, even if it’s one of annoyance. Right now, he just seems...void.  

Matteo seems dumbstruck at his joke being so easily curbed without even so much as a scowl. You turn to him and swat his shoulder, mumbling for him to move out the way. If Leone truly was having an off day, you didn’t want to make it worse. Matteo scoffs, but does as you say, removing himself from Leone’s chair and sitting on the nearby windowsill instead, watching as Leone drops his bag next to his bag and silently takes his seat.  

“...Everything okay, Leo?” You ask softly, standing up from where you were seated at the edge of his desk. You try to get a good look at his face, thinking that will explain something, but honestly all you can read there is sleepiness. The rims of his eyes are a bit red, dark circles stemming from his inner corners...Leone is slow to respond, pulling out his notebook and pencil pouch before saying anything.  

“‘Went to sleep late, that’s all.”  

…It doesn’t sound like he’s lying. Upon further inspection though, his eyes look puffy...perhaps from rubbing them too much? Either that or he’d been crying. That worried you. Ever since the two of you agreed to the whole ‘forgetting everything’, you’d been keeping Leone at a slight distance, knowing that it was the only way to keep yourself from falling right back in step with your previous feelings. But now, you kind of regretted it.  

“..Y’know you can talk to me about anything..like—if you wanna..right?” You say quietly.  

Leone pauses for a moment, turning his eyes up to you, looking a little shocked. But he nods. “Yeah...thanks. I’m fine.”  

You nod as well, backing down. “Alright...” It would be no use trying to pry; if he says he’s fine then that’s that. Of course, that didn’t stop you from internally speculating. Was it something at home again? Maybe he was stressed about the test?  

“Yo, Y/N.” Matteo gets your attention, kicking lightly at your hip with his foot, before gesturing with his head towards your desks. You give him a nod and begin to follow him, not before turning to Leone one last time.  

“We’ll talk later, yeah?” 

“Mhm...” Leone nods, and that puts you a little at ease.  

You and Matteo sit at your respective desks and begin taking out your own materials, Matteo still staring in Leone’s direction. He still seemed peeved about before.  

“What’s up with that guy?” He murmurs, crossing one leg over the other and leaning his elbow against the desk.  

“Says he didn’t sleep well.” You reply simply.  

“Yeah? Seems like he’s got a stick further up his ass than usual.”  

“You’d be the same, don’t act like you wouldn’t.” You give Matteo a small smile, re-zipping your backpack.  

He rolls his eyes at you but smiles anyways. “Maybe. Sucks that he’s tired though, I had a pretty good idea for what we could do after school today.” Matteo hums, resting his chin in his palm and picking at a notch in his desk with his other hand.  

That piques your curiosity a little, and you turn to him. It was relieving to hear, since most of you guys’ time recently had been spent studying. There were some fun activities here and there, like when he’d taken you all to a comic bookstore, or back to that record shop you loved, but they were sparse in comparison to how things had been the first week of school.  

“What’dya got?”  

“Mm..one of my buddies from my old school offered me a free ‘ticket’ to this car show tonight. Figured I’d just drag you two along with me.” 

“Car show? What, like those punks who spend a crap-ton on details just to pick up chicks?” 

Matteo snorts and shakes his head. “No, no... -I mean yeah but no. It’s pretty trashy since they’re all amateur idiots, but there can be some diamonds in the rough.” He explains coolly.  

“Eh...” You shrug. Cars weren’t really your thing. They were cool and all, but it had never been a particular interest of yours. “Dunno ‘bout that one. Not into it.”  

“Ya don’t gotta be ‘into’ it, it’s about the entertainment factor. Buncha’ guys hittin’ donuts in an empty parking lot, maybe a race here and there. Drinks, smokes, all that kinda stuff.”  

You consider it for a moment longer. When he said it like that, it did kind of seem like it had the potential to be pretty interesting. Though, the idea of being around strangers from some other school seemed a bit nerve wracking, especially since it sounded like they were..hooligans, to put it nicely.  

“...Alright, I’ll give it a chance, but don’t think I’m gonna let you rope me into anything crazy.”   

Matteo smiles widely at your agreement, then looking faux offended by your comment. “What? C’mon, you know I wouldn’t.”  

You chuckle softly and give him a look, though with no malice behind it. It was true, in all that Matteo did, he never pressured neither you or Leone into doing anything you genuinely didn’t want to, and you liked that about him.  

“It’ll be great..just you and I, hangin’ out, hm?” Matteo proposes, his smile a little gentler..contemplative, maybe.  

You raise a brow. “What, you don’t think we should still invite Leo? I mean, he might say no, but it’s still worth mentioning, right?”  

Matteo’s face falls a bit flat then, like he wasn’t expecting you to say this, even though it was...perfectly sensible. “..Well, we could..but he’s tired, and he’s only gonna be more tired after school..plus, he’ll probably whine about it being illegal or whatever…and..” Matteo looks away for a moment, then leans a little closer, lowering his voice, eyes trained on Leone across the room again. “..I kind of just want to spend time with you , if that alright.” 

You had been prepared to defend Leone and give him a fair chance at being invited, but Matteo’s last words make you hesitate. Spend time with you...? It was..sort of flattering, hearing him say it that way he did, like it was some kind of embarrassing admission, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t warm your heart a little. You look forward to Leone as well…it was going to be weird not having him tag along, but it’s not like it was a rule for them to always hang out as a group. Still, you silently hoped Leone would understand that.  

You turn to Matteo with a smile, nodding. “..okay, sure.”  

Matteo’s excitement returns gradually as he hears your response. “Sweet. It’ll be awesome, I promise.”  

     -###- 

Recess is as usual, with Leone and the others sitting out under one of the large archways that led to the football field, which was currently vacant, but there were a few students making their way over, passing the ball to each other as they went. It was less crowded on this side of the school, and it was also just nice to get some fresh air, especially since the weather was starting to cool. They’d come here after getting something from the vending machine, usually. Today, Y/N got a pack of cookies, Matteo a can of soda and chips...and Leone nothing. He wasn’t in the mood to eat, honestly.  

He was still feeling extremely dazed. This morning when he’d been leaving for the bus, his father was watching him like a hawk from the kitchen table, which already made him feel all the more frantic. He didn’t really know how he was supposed to handle himself after last night. He could still sense the sting of his father’s hand against his cheek. 

For most of the break he’d been silent, pretending to pay attention to what the other two were talking about with a nod of his head every once in a while.  

“I dunno man, if someone said that about my sis, I’d be pretty pissed off too.” Matteo grabs a handful of chips, stuffing them in his mouth.  

Y/N huffs and shakes his head. “Dude, you don’t even have a sister.” 

“Alright, whatever. Tell me you wouldn’t react the same if someone said that shit about Giovanni.”  

Y/N shrugs and flips his cookies between his fingers like it’s a coin. “..Gio’s older than me, so it’s not the same. Plus, he’d probably like it if some girl said that about him, fucking bastard.”  

Matteo laughs a little, dusting his hands off on his pants before looking to Leone, raising an eyebrow. “How ‘bout you, Leone? Do you think it was justified?”  

Leone’s eyes refocus as his name is called. Shit...maybe he should’ve been listening after all. “Uhm..sorry—was what justified?” He tries to play it off, leaning back against the concrete railing behind him.  

Matteo smirks and crumples up his chip bag. “We were talkin’ about the fight that happened this morning. Dario and some kid named Raul got into it pretty bad..apparently Raul said he wanted to bang Dario’s sis but got real explicit.” 

Leone makes a face. “..That’s fucked. If I were Dario, I’d knock the guys lights out.”  

“See! Exactly. Y/N thinks he shouldn't've done it..” 

“Fighting is so fuckin’ lame, dude. Just try to imagine how embarrassing those two looked from an outside perspective, squabbling on the ground like dead cockroaches. I’m not sayin’ he shoulda just walked away, I’m thinkin’ he shoulda said somethin’ 10x nastier— about his mom or somethin’!” Y/N defends, giving one big shrug. Leone could see the logic in that, too.  

“Yeah, but what’s to say Raul wasn’t already lining up an even better comeback? The kid would’ve never stopped his yappin’ for all we know!” 

“Jesus, Matteo, you make it sound like some kind of strategic battle...” Y/N sighs wearily.  

Leone..almost laughs at that. He could always count on these imbeciles to get his mind off of things, at least for the moment. But of course, things couldn’t remain that way.  

“Uh guys..sorry to interrupt your..important? conversation, but..I think I’m gonna just head home after school today...” Leone speaks up. He was trying to beat them to the punch. He felt like he had better control over things if he did it this way. 

Y/N and Matteo share a look..which catches Leone’s eye. Y/N is the first to speak. “Yeah? How come?” He didn’t look as dejected as Leone expected him to, and he feels like he should be bothered by that.  

“Just..still exhausted. Probably gonna try and get a nap in.”  

Y/N hums and nods, as if he’d known before the words were spoken, slotting another cookie between his fingers. “..Sure man, no worries. Maybe tomorrow?”  

Leone’s heart sinks. He nods. “Yeah..probably.” There was a residual sting in knowing that there would be no more ‘tomorrow.’ He would have to come up with so many more excuses. 

Y/N smiles, satisfied. “Cool.” He bites his cookie. Matteo just nods, which doesn’t surprise Leone. He imagines the guy is ecstatic about getting Y/N to himself. Leone forces himself not to care.  

He was intent on not telling Y/N what happened with his father. In doing so, he would subsequently have to expose himself with the contents of his journal, and it would just be plain strange considering all the things he’d written…Not to mention how it would essentially paint Leone as a hypocrite and a jackass. He was fine carrying this burden for now…he wanted to preserve what was left of their relationship. Though he began to wonder if it was even worth preserving…sooner or later, Leone’s consistent absence in their afterschool outings would probably become suspicious, or outright infuriating, leading Y/N to just simply drop Leone..end the friendship and save himself the struggle. Even as frightening as that sounded, he figures he would rather have a slow burnout than an abrupt one.  

  -###- 

The car show is...more than fun. You hadn’t expected it to be as such, but you were damn glad you agreed to go. You had to wait a bit before the event actually started, so when you arrived, the sun was going down. Matteo was there already, having caught a ride from whichever one of his friends had organized the event. He introduces you to him, but you didn’t really make it a priority to remember his name. The lineup of cars was small, but kind of impressive. Your expectations had been low, but they definitely proved you wrong.  

In the lineup of about 8 cars (and the addition of one scraggly Moped), two of them were holographic, some with colorfully painted bodies or radical detailing, like flames on the doors or skulls on the rear. Even without knowing all the technical parts and names of whatever the hell you were looking at, you had to give credit where credit was due. Just as Matteo promised, there were plenty of donuts, exhaust fumes smogging up the air in combination with the cigarette smoke already present. And of course there was a short race between the vehicles, the overall winner being a jet-black Alfa Romeo with purple rims that gleamed when hit with a flash of light, owned by some guy with a choppy mullet.  

The rest of the evening was relatively casual, everyone mingling around the vehicles, all radios playing a different station, talking about where they got certain modifications and x y z; you weren’t listing all that well since it had nothing to do with you. You met a few more of Matteo’s other friends too, though half of them were either extremely drunk, or more focused on trying to pick up girls, very few of which had actually showed up. Matteo stayed by your side the entire time, and he seemed to be enjoying himself too.  

Eventually, when the night had started to calm down, you and Matteo sat on the roof of one of the model cars, with the owner’s permission of course. It was something you’d never done before, but God was it thrilling. The two of you sat facing the moon, Matteo messing around with his lighter, and you just watching him, mainly to make sure he didn’t drop it and set everything ablaze.  

“..So, this is the kind’a crew you roll with?” You joked, nudging at his shoulder.  

Matteo snuffed and flicked his lighter closed. “Don’t sound so fuckin’ judgmental about it.”  

“You weren’t lying when you said it’d be trashy.” You said under your breath. 

“Asshole!” He laughed, looking like he was about to shove you, but thinking better of it. “They’re a little unhinged, but we have a good time, that’s for damn sure. You complainin’?”  

“Nah..just amused honestly..I like this setting. My mom would kill me if she found out I was here, though.” You sighed.  

“‘Course she would. I can’t believe she’s letting you stay out this late, especially since it’s a school night. What’d you tell her, anyways?”  

“..Well I just told her I was going on for a drive to clear my head. She got all sappy and let me go, easy.”  

“Ah..gotta soft spot for her baby boy, hm?” Matteo smiled wildly, teasing at your hair...in a way that reminded you of someone else. 

“Hush…I should probably get goin’ though. What time is it?”  

Matteo seemed a little alarmed and deflated by the thought of you leaving, but looked down to his wrist nonetheless, squinting his eyes at his barely visible watch. “Quarter to ten, looks like…yeah, you oughta head back.”  

You were a bit upset at having to leave, too. It was more serene than you thought it would be, just spending time with Matteo. There was just that feeling again, of freedom , that you didn’t necessarily get with Leone. You could admit, though, that perhaps you were a bit bias, considering your past with Matteo…and yet it felt like the bias didn’t matter. Leone was...completely out of the picture, yes? Matteo made you feel…wanted. Even as corny as it sounds in your head, it was true. And you weren’t an idiot; you knew that the chemistry between yourself and Matteo had never really disappeared...so what’s the harm in playing into it a little? Maybe it wouldn’t amount to anything serious, but it was definitely less painful than things had been with Leone, and you deserved a bit of soothing, right?  

“Before you go-“ Matteo had looked to you again, watching as you began to slide down the back of the car and onto the trunk, smiling softly. “There’s this party on Saturday..at Marcy’s house..you should come.”  

“..who the hell is Marcy?” You hadn’t meant to sound so rude, but you were admittedly a little lost.  

Matteo laughed and pointed across the parking lot to where a group of people were standing around. “Marcello. The guy who put this whole thing together?”  

“Ah..” The one whose name you neglected earlier. You nod. “Right, sorry..uh- yeah, I’ll think about it. Don’t think I’ve ever been to a ‘real’ party before.”  

“You’d like it. It’s just like this except..less exhaust fumes and more places to sit.” Matteo said playfully, eliciting a chuckle from you.  

“Yeah, for sure..I’ll ask my parents.” Even though you’d managed to get one over on your mom about this event, you didn’t want to push your luck too far.  

Matteo grinned and nodded. “Cool..I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow.” 

You smiled back and hopped off the back of the car, feet on solid ground again. “Lookin’ forward to it.”  

“Drive safe.”  

“Will do.”  

 ————— 

The ride home is blissful and full of annoying fuzzy feelings swarming in your stomach. Yet simultaneously with a distinct taste of guilt in your mouth. With Matteo out of sight, you were back to worrying about Leone. He truly seemed unwell earlier... 

You sneak inside the house as quietly as you can manage, taking off your shoes at the front porch as to not risk having your sneakers squeak against the wood floors. When you make your way up to the living room, your father is lying across the couch, the TV still running on some old looking movie. He’s totally knocked out, snoring loudly, which just makes this a whole lot easier for you. Your mother wasn’t there with him, so it was safe to assume that she had already gone to bed.  

You tip toe over to the kitchen, closing the door behind you before stepping up to where the phone is hanging on the wall. Looking at the clock, this was probably a stupid idea..but you felt like you wouldn’t be able to sleep comfortably if you didn’t do it. So, you take the phone in your hand, and begin pressing in Leone’s phone number, shifting from foot to foot as you listen to in ring..and ring..and- 

[Hello?] Answers a quiet voice, dull almost.  

[—Hey. Leo? It’s me.]  

The line is quiet, and you can hear a bit of shuffling in the background.   

[Y/N..it’s late.] His voice is much, much quieter than before.  

[Yeah, but you’re up, so why’re you pressin’ me?]   

You expect Leone to at least laugh a little, but he doesn’t..  

[I’m not supposed to be talking to you..]  

[What..?]  

[—I just mean that it’s late..I’m supposed to be sleep.]   

[…Listen I just wanted to call and check on you again. I know you said you were fine earlier, but I keep getting this feeling..]  

…   

[I’m fine, Y/N. I felt better after a nap or two. Please go to bed.] Once again, he leaves no room for anything to be discussed further.  

[Jesus, alright…Hey, you busy this weekend?]   

[..I don’t know, maybe.]   

Leone never usually had plans.   

[‘Kay well...there’s this party Matteo told me about on Saturday..I want you to come. I know it’s not really your thing, but I don’t want to experience my first party without you.] You feared perhaps you were being a little too honest now, but it was too late to take the words back. 

[..My dad would never-]  

[Yes-yes I know, I know…but it’s not like he has to know, right? You could ah..tell him it’s late-night studying at my place.]  

[..That’s not going to work.]   

[Alright, jackass, how about you just sneak out then, the old-fashioned way.]  

[You tryin’ to get me killed or what?]   

[Live a little. I know you wanna.] You smile a bit to yourself.   

[..I’ll have to check my Dad’s schedule.]  

[Yeah?] You try not to get too excited. [Goodness, you’re so easily influenced.]  

[Shut up, don’t make me change my mind. And don’t get your hopes up either..]   

[Im trying I swear-]  

The line goes completely quiet again, and you can hear the faint sounds of someone talking in the background. Sounds like Leone’s father had just got back.  

[Okay—I really have to go now, goodnight-] Leone speaks hurriedly, and before you can say goodnight, he’s already hung up the phone, leaving it ringing a lone tone again. Despite the sudden end, you felt accomplished about your split-second decision to call Leone.  

You set the phone in its rightful place and make your way carefully back through the living room, up to your own bedroom. You’d thought it might take some more convincing to get Leone to agree to sneak out, but perhaps he was finally starting to see the beauty of free will. Overall, though, you were just glad to hear that he was alright..some of his usual grumpiness started to shine through towards the end of the call, whereas earlier he’d just seemed outright depressed.  

Things felt..as close to normal as they could. That was enough to help you get a good night’s sleep…thoughts of both Leone and Matteo stirring at the back of your consciousness. 

Chapter Text

Leone was a plumb fool. And that was putting it lightly.  

His phone call with Y/N last night had been rushed and frantic…words were spilling from his mouth without a second thought.  Leone, of course, had never snuck out of his home before. Besides the fact that he never felt the need to do so, it was also an unspoken no-no across all households, right? And yet somehow in that moment he threw away all rational thought out the window and agreed to do it for him . 

Barely a day on punishment and he was already planning to break the rules…Jesus, what was happening to him? 

The agreement had been mostly out of spite and contempt towards his father rather than any actual interest in going to the party itself. Even if he had conceded with his other restrictions for the sake of his own sanity, it crushed him to be so isolated. Too much time alone with his thoughts. Leone didn’t like to think of himself as rebellious...but it was never too late to start? Additionally, it was hard to say no to Y/N with how concerned he’d sounded over the phone, and even throughout the school day. Leone felt on some level that he owed him… 

It’s not like he had much else to lose anyways.  

It had been tough, trying to inconspicuously get an idea of his father’s schedule. It’s not like he had it posted up on the fridge for free viewing…all Leone knew was that he would leave the house about an hour after he left for the bus, and come home at varying hours depending on his workload; It could be as early as 8pm and as late as 12am. So, he attempted to discreetly bring it up at dinner the next day, which was already strange since they hadn’t said anything to each other in nearly 48 hours.  

His father had given him a half glance, but answered honestly, telling Leone that he’d probably be home earlier than usual, since he was being called in at the ass crack of dawn. That had been the end of the conversation. 

On the day of, Leone was nervous as hell. At school, Y/N had further explained some details about where the party was at and what time it was happening...Matteo looked a little pissed off for some reason. Leone could guess why. But now, it was nearing sunset, and his father still wasn’t home. He was going to ruin the entire plan if he didn’t show up soon.. 

Being the con artist that he was, Matteo begrudgingly aided Leone in coming up with an escape plan; after his father came home, he would wait for him to fall asleep—dead asleep, snoring and all—and once he was, Leone would take one of several routes: if his father was sleeping the living room, he would escape through the kitchen side door, if he was sleeping in his bedroom, Leone would go through the first-floor bathroom window.. 

‘Whatever you do, don’t go through the front door. That’s a one-way ticket to hell.’  Matteo had said.  

Then, after successfully making it out the house, he would wait in the garden on the side of the house for the two of them to pull up, wherein Y/N would then transport them all to the party. To Leone, the plan seemed…faulty. A little weak..but Matteo had assured him that everything would work out in the end as long as he carefully followed each instruction.  

‘Patience, Leone, you must have patience!’ He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop hating this guy.   

Leone was already dressed, because he felt too anxious to wait. He’d decided this occasion was the perfect time to wear the shirt he’d bought at the mall..it still looked just as good as it did that day. Leone wishes, though, that he had the makeup to go with it...it doesn’t hit the same without it. He’s a little cold with the gaps of his chest showing, but he figures it will be worth it. The rest of his outfit is rather plain, a regular pair of black jeans that he’d considered tearing at the knees, and his usual sneakers. He thought maybe he should do something different with his hair, but a ponytail seemed too childish, and he failed miserably at doing a half-up-half-down. So, he opted to just let it hang as usual. 

His hair has grown a lot since last year...he wonders if he should let it keep growing..And then he thinks he’s fretting too much over his appearance.  

Just then, the familiar sound of his father’s car pulling into the driveway captures his attention, and he sighs with relief. He was right on time..it was just about 7pm. Which meant his father needed to fall asleep sometime before 9pm, since that’s when he was expecting the other two to arrive.  

When Leone heard his father coming up the stairs, he hid himself beneath his covers and pretended to be taking a nap and didn’t come out until his father had gone back downstairs. Leone waited about an hour before going down to the living room to see if his father had fallen asleep yet, peeking through the doorway and using the wall as his shield. Every time he saw his father now, he got a tight feeling in his chest.  

His father was being more proactive than usual, Monteverdi sounding off of the record player while he flipped through a magazine of some sort. Leone remained crouched there for God knows how long before he finally heard the crinkle of the magazine cease, replaced with choppy snores.  

He immediately steps over to the coat hanger and reaches for his satchel, but realizes its absence might alert his father if he happens to wake up and see it gone. Now that he was thinking about it…what was the guarantee that his father wouldn’t wake up before Leone returned home? Since he wasn’t allowed to have his door closed, his father could simply walk past his room and see that he wasn’t there…Jesus...this was a terrible idea, and he was having egregious second thoughts.  

But no—he’d already promised he’d go…it was too late to back out now. But he was starting to sweat. He leaves the bag, and moves in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen. He was glad that he got to take this route at least; the bathroom window was about as small as a car window. Leone would’ve probably broken a bone trying to fit himself through it.  

The kitchen door was easily more convenient, a patio door without the actual patio, and it left Leone in a good position to monitor the street. He slowly swings the door open, stepping out into the cool night air, and gently guiding the door back to its rightful position to ensure it doesn’t slam. The evening is quiet…soft. The humidity that once ran rampant had disappeared a week or two ago, making the air significantly more pleasant. Leone was just glad he wouldn’t have to deal with clammy skin in addition to his building sweat.  

He looks back through the glass of the side door one more time before moving somewhere out of sight, more towards the side of the house where the bushes make for good cover. It’s itchy and irritating, but he, thankfully, doesn’t have to wait very long. He can already hear the distant sounds of Y/N’s radio playing, growing louder the closer he gets. He knows it must be him, because no one else in this town is dumb enough to play their music that loud. Y/N parks a few feet up the road, and Leone proceeds his fumbling through the bushes and shrubs until he reaches the curb, moving swiftly towards the car.  

The first thing he notices is that Matteo is sitting in the passenger seat. That’s Leone’s seat.  

Y/N rolls down his window and smiles wide at Leone, eyes looking him up and down. “God, I almost forgot you bought that shirt. You look sick, dude.” Leone had forgotten he was wearing it too. His face feels so much warmer now. 

“Thanks..” He tries to get a good look at what Y/N is wearing too, but the most he can see is that he’s wearing a loose black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, his forearms dressed with fishnet gloves and a gaggle of bracelets ranging from spiky to beaded. Leone wishes he would’ve accessorized more too, but he figured he already stands out enough.  

“Where’d ya’ get that from? Might have to check it out sometime..” Matteo chimes in, a half-smirk on his face. It’s hard to tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. 

“The mall. Could you get out my seat?” Leone was too anxious to be polite. The longer he stood out in the open, the more worried he became.  

“Eh? I didn’t realize we’d been assigned. Can’t you sit in the back this time around?” Matteo responds, flippantly. 

“Matteo don’t be an ass, you know I sit there every time.”  

Matteo scoffs, expression sharpening a notch. “‘Bit childish, in’nit? Can’t you let your pal have a turn—“ 

“Oh geez, just get in the back, Matteo, we’ve got places to be!” Y/N groans, unbuckling his seat belt for him and starting to push him towards the door. Leone smiles a bit.  

Matteo lets himself be pushed, mumbling something under his breath as he gets out the car, and grabs at the other door handle. Leone doesn’t bother acknowledging his complaints, simply moving to the passenger side and taking his rightful place. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit smug. Now that he was actually secure in the car, he felt less tense..the threat of being caught seems distant. Once they’ve all settled, Y/N glances between the two of them excitedly, putting the car in drive.  

“Alright...now all that’s left is to make it to the party in one piece.” He says, grinning mischievously. This reminds Leone to put his seatbelt on.  

  ————— 

Arriving at the scene, it’s a lot more crowded than Leone expected it to be. He didn’t know this Marcello guy personally, but clearly, he had a bit of pull in his community. The house itself is what really stuns him though. It a massive plot, far out from the main town in an open field surrounded by an assortment of trees that were hard to identify in the darkness. Leone wasn’t sure if he could call it a mansion, but it was the closest definition he could think of upon first glance.  

“God damn!” Y/N had exclaimed when they were still driving along the dirt road that led up to the estate, shock and awe written all over his expression. Matteo just grinned and shrugged. With how empty the surrounding area was, it was easy to find parking, finding a space next to a nearby shed just a little way from the house itself. There were people all around, chattering in cliques or large groups, dancing on the lawn to the music overflowing from inside the house, drinking on the balcony, playing cards on the porch. It was an extremely lively arrangement..Leone felt both excited and fearful. 

Y/N’s amazed expression only intensifies when they get out the car, where he stands taking it all in with wide eyes and a half open mouth. “Ya’ didn’t tell us your buddy was rich!” He says, turning back to look at Matteo who was straightening out his bomber jacket.  

“Marcy’s flat broke, he ain’t rich. It’s his dad that’s got all the money.” He snorts. “Besides, he’s a private school kid, what did you expect?”  

Well, that certainly does make more sense.  

“Does your house look like this too?” Leone speaks up, curiosity getting the best of him. He almost instantly regrets asking, with the way Matteo starts grinning like a madman.  

“Naturally. Though I’d argue mine is a bit more impressive when it comes to the exterior.”  

‘Okay, prick.’ Is what he wants to say, but instead he just nods.  

“ Right, well—are we going to just stand here, or are we actually gonna go inside?” Matteo moves forward, looping his arms around Leone and Y/Ns’ shoulders, which startles him.  

Y/N laughs and nods, already starting to march forward confidently. “Hell yeah, let’s do it!”  

“That’s the spirit!” Matteo shouts back, pumping a fist. He still hasn’t released Leone from his hold. Leone side-eyes him, fingers clenched in a fist. As Y/N goes ahead, Matteo’s smile drops, and he looks to Leone like he’s barely restraining a scowl. Leone feels so God damn uncomfortable. “…Try not to get lost, yeah?” Matteo mutters. To Leone, it feels like a thinly veiled threat.  

“Worry about your damn self, asshole.” Leone spits back, shoving at Matteo’s ribs and managing to get out of his grasp, leaving Matteo stumbling to the side, his expression twisted with confusion and slight anger. Leone had never seriously put his hands on the guy, but he was smart enough to recognize when he should stand up for himself, especially since Y/N wasn’t watching. It seemed Matteo was becoming less and less cautious about his dislike for him. 

It didn’t seem like Matteo was intent on making a scene, so Leone took the opportunity to catch up with Y/N, cutting through the cluster of people at the front door and making his way inside. It’s just as packed in here as it was outside. Luckily, Y/N hadn’t made it very far and was standing near the stereo in the living room, already nodding along to some pop rock song. Leone squeezes his way through, and reaches out, grabbing at his wrist.  

“Woah-! Oh..hah, you scared me, Leo.” He looks a bit spooked, but recovers quickly when the recognition settles in.  

“Sorry.” 

“No worries. I didn’t mean to leave you guys behind like that—I thought you were right behind me.” 

Leone shakes his head. He considers telling Y/N about what held him up, but knows it would sound ridiculous from his perspective. “We were. It was...hard to get through all the people.”  

“Ah right. Hey, you ever heard this song before? I dunno what it is, but it rules .” He smiles wide, already starting to bob his head again, movement growing in his shoulders now too. Leone softens a little at the sight.  

“..Never heard it, but I like it too.” Leone leans against the table beside him, folding his arms across his chest and sort of nodding along too. He’s suddenly very glad he came tonight. The energy that Y/N exalted was contagious, and after the absolute shit that he’d been put through this week, he absolutely needed it. Like a drug.  

“It’s called Labyrinth. By a woman named Elisa.” An unfamiliar voice calls out, directing their attention to the left. Completely unfamiliar face..but Leone can see Matteo right at the guy's side. This must be- 

“ Marcello ! I didn’t know you had such good music taste, you shoulda told me sooner!” Y/N chuckles, reaching out to give the guy a fist bump, which he returns. Marcello is a short-ish guy with a nice build, dark brown hair that’s rather messy and perhaps due for a trim. He looks a bit older than the three of them..maybe around 18. He’s got a cigarette half-hung from his lips, and all Leone can think is how gross it is that he’d smoke inside the house. He was trying his best not to be judgmental though.  

“Whaat? C’mon, I’m the Master of Music, can’t ya tell?” His voice is coarse, but not totally grating.  

Matteo steps up, using Marcello’s shoulder as an arm rest. “Yeah, but ya’ get your taste from me, so it doesn’t count.”  

“As if! You’re not some damn crusader Matt, piss off!” Marcello says playfully, gaining a round of laughter from the group, even a bit from Leone. Marcello looks to him then, putting on a friendly face as he huffs out a cloud of smoke. “Who’s this guy?” 

“Oh- this is my friend Leone. I hope it’s alright that he came along.” Y/N speaks up before Leone can. Marcello tilts his head a little but doesn’t look offended.  

“Nah, it’s cool. The more the merrier, ya’know?” Marcello shrugs and lifts a fist out. Leone tentatively bumps it back. “Ya’ll enjoyin’ it so far?” 

“For sure. I admit, I was skeptical at first, but I’m diggin’ the atmosphere.” Y/N replies, and Leone knows he’s being honest, because he hasn’t stopped dancing to the music this entire time. Leone just nods in response.  

“Sick. You fellas are welcome to do whatever you like, just try not to knock anything over. There’s a pool table upstairs, plenty of vacant bedrooms..’think there’s a blunt being passed around somewhere outside too, if that’s your thing.” Marcello hums.  

Y/N laughs nervously and nods, going along with it just for the sake of. “Sure, thanks man..” 

“Uh-huh. Ya’ll look empty handed. How ‘bout a drink?” 

“Marcy, didn’t I tell you he doesn’t-“ Matteo starts.  

“Oh that’s alright I don’t really—“ Y/N overlaps.  

Leone doesn’t say anything.  

“Awe come on kid, it ain’t gonna kill ya.” Marcello giggles. “Just a shot, it’ll be fun.”  

Y/N looks conflicted now, playing with one of his bracelets and looking between everyone’s faces.  

“I’m down.”  

They all turn and look to Leone with varying expressions as he speaks; Y/N looks like he’s seen a ghost, Marcello looks pleased, and Matteo appears..borderline scornful.  

“Leo-?” Y/N utters.  

Leone looks to him and shrugs. “What? Tell me you’re not curious.” To Leone, it was a little more than just curiosity. He didn’t sneak out the house just to sit around and two-step. If this was going to be his last night out for the rest of his teen years, which let’s be honest, he was totally screwed after this, he wanted to at least make it worth his while. He knows he’s put Y/N in a tough spot, though.  

“Uh..” Y/N stiffens at the question, and it seems Leone was right. “Well..I guess..I just- are you sure?”  

“I’m sure.”  

Y/N stares at him for a moment before nodding and turning to Marcello with a conceding look. Marcello smiles as a cloud of grey exits his nostrils.  

“Cool.”  

-###- 

You weren’t expecting Leone to say yes..it was a total blindside. Leone was usually very adamant about his distaste for all things even partially close to breaking the law, only making an exception for your underage driving. You’d guessed it had something to do with his dad being a cop and all, or perhaps he was just very intent on having a clean record. So the fact that he was now just suddenly okay with it was..alarming. But you had to admit it was nice to see him branching out a little, even if this seemed like a sort of extreme first step.  

You yourself weren’t entirely averse to drinking as a concept, but held back not only for Leone’s sake, but also because you were the designated driver. You were already risking a lot by driving on your own, so being under the influence was always out the picture, and that should be the case now too. But…looking down into the plastic solo cup you’d been handed, it was hard not to give in.  

Plus, you didn’t want to be the odd one out..it was a stupid excuse, but felt valid in the moment.  

“Cheers!” Marcello shouts. You were all standing in the kitchen near a dining table that looked like it could collapse from the weight of how many bottles were stacked on top of it, along with several packs of beer and soda. You don’t know exactly what he poured for you all, but it was some kind of pungent clear liquid that made your nose burn. Some other people had decided to join the group as well, so there was little space to move around. After everyone repeated the chant, you all tilted your heads back and took down the shot. The taste was extremely sharp, and you wouldn’t be surprised if this turned out to be straight up rubbing alcohol, face screwing up in disgust as it burned your throat.  

Leone didn’t seem as affected, but definitely still made a bit of a face. Everyone around you begins hollering and hooting, excitement reclaiming the crowd. Marcello is laughing at your expression, and he comes over to pat you on the back.  

“Wasn’t that bad, was it? Man up a little!”  

You huff a laugh and shake your head, cracking open a can of soda you’d snagged to get rid of the awful aftertaste, sipping it gingerly. “Dude, it was horrible. How do you people enjoy that shit?”  

“You get used to it after a while. Besides, the taste is easily ignorable when the consequences are so desirable.” He shrugs. “Here, have another.” Marcello was already grabbing a bottle and pouring it into your cup again before you could answer.  

“Man I really shouldn’t-“ You put your hand out to stop him, but he just shoves the cup back into your hand.  

“Eh, why not? Look, Leone’s takin’ another, don’t wanna leave the guy hangin’.” He points to your left, and sure enough, you turn your head to see Leone already gulping down another shot.  

“Jesus, he’s lost his damn mind.” You murmur. You guess Marcello has a point? This time, at least you’ve got the soda at the ready. Shot number two goes down easy.  

 ————— 

Before you realize it, you’re six shots in. You don’t even remember how you got to this point, but right now you don’t care. Your entire body is warm, almost like you’ve got a mild fever, fingers and lips tingly, throat a bit numb from the strength of the drink. Outwardly, you feel horrible, but on the inside it’s absolute euphoria. You’re drunk, that’s for sure, but you’re still present enough to see, hear, and register your surroundings. You have become a bit wobbly on your feet though. 

Leone stayed within reach, his cheeks blossoming red, sitting on top of a nearby counter with his cup still in hand. He and Marcello were chatting about who-knows-what...either way you were glad to see him relaxed and social. Matteo evidently couldn’t hold his liquor very well either, as he was currently talking your ear off, leaning against the wall next to you. 

“—‘nway the guy was a total prick..said he din’t like blondes cause they remind him of his cat?? I didn’t know if I should be sad or-or offended...”  

It was another story about some man he’d met up with a couple months ago. “That’s fucked! Why would he be thinkin’ about his cat in that context anyways?” You replied. You liked the drama of Matteo’s stories, but sometimes they made you feel a bit..iffy.  

Matteo shrugs and leans his head against the wall. He was a bit red too, though it had a bit of an orange tint to it, trickling all the way up to the tips of his ears, and making his freckles stand out. “I dunno, but I ditched the motherfucker. His house was dingy anyways.” He sighed.  

You giggle, and Matteo follows suite. You turn to look over to where Leone is again. He was smiling now, probably at something Marcy had said, hair tucked behind his ear and revealing more of his flushed skin. Partly hooked nose. Imposing jawline. He was still so beautiful.   More importantly, you wanted to laugh with him too. You excuse yourself from Matteo, pushing off the wall and carefully stepping through everyone to the other side of the kitchen, a plan already in mind. Leone looks to you as you approach, his smile softening but not disappearing.  

“Whatsup guys?” You smiled a little, but you could feel it was larger than you intended.  

“Hi..” Leone smiles back, barely processing your words it seems. Marcello picks up his slack, luckily.  

“Talkin’ about books.” 

“Books, ah? At a time like this?”  

“What, don’t tell me you’re as moronic as ya’ look? It’s always a proper time to talk literature.” Marcello chuckles.  

“I don’ really get it, but whatever. Glad you’ve got a common interest.” You glance at Leone again. “Havin’ a good time, Leo?”  

He nods slowly. “Surprisingly. Think I should’ve slowed down on the drinks though..” He mumbles, looking down at his empty cup.  

“Yeah, you said it..” You take a small step closer to him, reaching your hand up and setting it on his knee. “Hey-wanna dance? Got tons’a energy to burn.”  

Leone doesn’t immediately process the touch, but when he does, his eyes get a little wider, and it seems like a thousand thoughts are crossing his mind—you wonder if you’ve made a mistake and prepare to retract your hand, but then Leone is smiling..albeit timidly.  

“Oh-yeah..yeah, hell yeah let’s do it.” You can hear the spot of enthusiasm in his tone, and you instantly forget any fears that were starting to bubble up.  

“Hell yeah!” You grab Leone’s wrist as he hops down from the counter, already dragging him away before he can hardly apologize to Marcello for ditching the conversation. Marcello doesn’t look all that upset though and just shouts ‘have fun’ before moving on to speak with another partygoer.  

The journey back into the living room is a bit of a struggle, since this is where the crowd remains the thickest; everyone wanting to be as close to the music as possible, but you eventually made it into a relatively open area. Even that was a bit of an exaggeration, since there was still someone bumping against your back every few seconds. You pull Leone in front of you, grinning, starting to get into the groove of the music like clockwork. The song is upbeat, but still has an element of serenity, you think it might be new wave. Leone is just standing there, laughing quietly at you the more he watches.  

“What’s so funny? Get ‘ta dancin’, why don’t you?” You say, raising your voice to talk over the music.  

Leone snickers and shakes his head, but starts moving, swaying a little. “I dunno how to!” He blurts, shrugging.  

“Bullshit!” You reach your hands out and grab both of his wrists, pulling him a little closer and moving his arms back and forth, side to side. “See-you’re dancin’!” 

Leone is still holding back a bit, but he lets you move him around, getting into it little by little. “..Guess I am huh?” He keeps his eyes down on his feet for a moment, trying to make sure he doesn’t trip, but when he looks to you again, you swear you feel your heart stutter. He looks so…alive. Alive in a way you hadn’t seen him look in a long time. Golden eyes no longer shadowed with, but rather gilt with violet…It’s..powerful. It makes you so inexplicably joyous. He was still everything you wanted, despite the controversy.  

You pull Leone a little closer now. Your subconscious was taking the reins.  

Leone doesn’t step back. His smile turns thoughtful. He looks around for a moment. The crowd was minding their own business. He relinquishes his hands from your hold, and places them at your hips instead. You let your own hands find his waist.  

“You don’t know how long ’ve been wantin’—to hold you like this..” Leone mumbles quietly, smiling wryly. 

“Whatd’ya say? Can’t hear over the music-“  

He leans in a little closer, fingers hooked into your belt loop like he was afraid you’d drift away. “I—I said I..uh..never mind I forgot-” You can’t tell if he was chickening out, or if he had truly forgotten that quickly. Either way it makes you laugh.  

Leone laughs too, leaning forward a bit more each time, until his head is wrested on your shoulder, long hair brushing against the exposed bits of your arm and making you feel ticklish, that hair that you love so much. The skin of his cheek is absurdly warm. His arms move to loosely wrap around your lower back, and you move yours around his mid-section in a half-conscious embrace, still swaying uncoordinatedly to the music.  

“God, I like you so much it hurts..” He mumbles again, but this time you hear him.  

The confession was penetrating your drunken mind, like an ice bucket to the face. These were the words you’d so desperately wanted to hear for weeks now…it was ecstasy being handed to you on a silver platter. You lift Leone up, pushing him back by the shoulders and staring at him with a lopsided grin.  

“..Really? D’ya mean it?”  

Leone raises his head, rubs at his eye..and a panicked expression overtakes his features, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, pupils dilated, head shaking in distressed denial.  

“That’s not..I didn’t mean to—“ He drops his arms from where they’d been rested around you, stumbling back. At first you think he’s just being shy..perhaps embarrassed by his own admission, as anyone would be. You reach forward and grab his sleeve, mostly to keep him from falling, but also to bring him in again.  

“Jeez, calm down..It’s alright. I like you too, remember?” You smile. 

He stares blankly, seemingly starting to calm down again. You cautiously step forward again, your hand moving from his sleeve to his palm, before you gently entwine your fingers with his. Leone flushes impossibly further. You were.. this close, to exploding with pure happiness. No more confusion..no more ‘forgetting’, no more distance.. 

“Can I kiss you?” You say softly. It didn’t matter to you if anyone saw.  

Leone’s eyes flicker, and the panic has instantly returned. He lets go of your hand and crosses his arms over himself...like a defensive animal.  

“I—No, I-I can’t -“ He stutters, attempting to move backwards, but unable to find a break in the crowd, and accidentally being shoved forward instead. And perhaps you could have handled with the rejection of a kiss..but it’s his last words that tell you that isn’t what this is about.  

…The dread has settled back into your bones. The wave of warmth and excitement that had come just moments before had frozen over, already being fractured and cracked by confusion..and anger . The substance in your veins was not helping you at all to remain rational. You’re not sure anything could have in that moment anyways. When Leone is pushed forward, you grab him by the shoulders to help him stabilize, but after that, your hands are clenched into fists at your sides. Restraining. Trying . 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Leone?” You say, voice clipped. Leone’s begun breathing heavy..jaw tense.  

“I..I can’t—I won’t—I’m not supposed to!”   

“‘ Supposed to’? What the fuck are you talking about?”  

“This isn’t..I shouldn’t be here..I shouldn’t feel this way—I never should have..”  

You feel like you’re seconds away from crying.  

“Leone, you just told me you like me!” You aren’t meaning to raise your voice, but it’s out of your control now.  

“I—I do-“As always, he sounds distrusting of himself.  

“Then why the hell are you acting like you’re allergic to me all of a sudden?!”  

“Bec-“ He takes in a rushed breath. “Because I don’t want these feelings! These aren’t..they aren’t me !” 

Back at square one. Running in this circle..was so tiring. At some point you’d thought to yourself it was worth it, practicing patience for the boy you liked..even when it only resulted in disappointment time and time again. Perhaps it was your own fault, for putting that kind of pressure on him. For expecting so much out of him. For hoping to reflect your own experience on him and things to just magically come out how you wanted. 

 That didn’t take away from how furious you were.  

“I don’t want to keep doing this back and forth with you, Leone!” You shout, aggrieved. “You want me, then you don’t want me, it’s fucking exhausting! I tried to give you your space..let you figure things out on your own, instead of drilling some common sense into your damn head like I should’ve!” Your words slur so badly you wonder if he can even hear you. “Being gay isn’t some curse. It ain’t haunting you, and it ain’t gonna fucking kill you, and the way you act about it makes me sick!”  

People have begun to spectate, but you keep going. “Your denial is laughable . In fact, I think it’s more pathetic than anything. Don’t you understand how humiliating this has been for me? Trying to rid myself of the thought of you for months, to respect your wishes, only to have my hope restored with some stupid stunt like this, then to have it all come crashing down yet again because you can’t pull yourself together?!”  

Leone has said nothing, still standing there with his arms wrapped around himself, mouth slacken like a deer in headlights. The atmosphere has been killed. The music is still playing, but is now interwoven with the whisperings of those around you.  

The more you went on, the more you felt your control over yourself slipping. Moments away from doing something rash, until you feel someone come up behind you, gripping your shoulders and keeping you grounded. 

“Hey hey—take a deep breath man..” It was Matteos voice, but it sounded all screwed, and far off. You felt unsteady. Shaky. Matteo’s comfort meant little to you right now.  

Leone reanimates finally, swallowing thickly. “I..I’m so sorry..”  

It’s not what you want to hear. It doesn’t soothe the ache. You scoff and turn your head away from him, trying to move away but your body doesn’t listen, and instead you just slump back into Matteo. He holds you up as best he can, and your head starts to swirl, leaving you with only the blurry glimpse of Leone retreating through the crowd at last. Just like always. You’d know it’d been too good to be true.  

“I dunno what happened, but you don’t look too hot..how ‘bout we go get some air, yeah?” Matteo was still muttering to you. You look over at him and nod slowly. Being in this space was only suffocating you further.  

 -###- 

He ran. He had to. He couldn’t..stand to take that confrontation, not in front of all those people, and even just in general.  

Leone doesn’t know where he is now. The walls were already twisting before and had only continued to do so as he thrashed through a corridor, shoving people out of his way just to find cover. So much for that; he ended up in a room that reeked of cigarettes and was occupied by a group of people. Various faces. Various reactions to him practically tumbling into the room, and Leone tried not to care about the sting of their gazes as he moved to sit himself on the cramped bed. The couple that had been sitting there looked irritated by the intrusion, but didn’t tell him to move.  

He’s crying now, or at least he thinks he is. He can feel the strain at the brim of his waterline, but he can’t tell if anything’s actually fallen out. He doesn’t understand how he’s let this happen…after trying so hard to suppress and repackage, this is how it all blows up? Because of his own stupid drunken comment?  

Leone doesn’t blame Y/N for this…he could never. He blames himself, for not being strong enough. For always being so quick to let his guard down, even now knowing the responsibility he holds. He knows he’s not trying hard enough to bury his feelings—he’s gone easy on himself for the sake of..what, comfort? He’s been so lackluster, even knowing the kind of chaos this always erupts into, yet again face to face with his self-indulgence.  

His hands fist at his pants brutishly. The part that always hurts the most is the distraught look on Y/N’s face when he realizes Leone has failed him yet again. It pulverizes his soul. And that’s how he knows he’s let this go on too long. But that’s what he said before, isn’t it? What’s to say he won’t keep going in this fucking roundabout? He entirely lacks the strength to hold himself to his word—he’s proven that to himself—so how is he meant to…to gain control ? How is he meant to guide himself out of this illusion?  

“ Hey kid, you alright?” A feminine voice speaks from above him, gritty but sounding at least a little genuine.  

Leone looks up slowly, only to be met with a stream of smoke blown right into his face. He’s impartial to the mild disrespect. He’d take just about any kind of punishment he could receive right now.  

“Can ya’ even hear me? Hellooo-“A raven haired girl; locks cut down to her shoulders in a shaggy style, low-rise jeans and a pink striped crop-top that sort of makes his head hurt. Bold eyeliner, lined lips.  

“I can hear you..” He blinks.  

“Oh, good. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to call for someone.” She sighs and takes a seat next to him on the mattress, making it even more squished, and flicking the ash of her cigarette onto the carpet.  

“..Okay..” Leone was too preoccupied with his mental break to worry about whatever the hell she had to say.  

Of course it wouldn’t be that simple though. “..What’s got you all caught up? You look ill.”  

“…I ruined my entire friendship..” Leone’s mouth moved without his own permission.  

The girl looked indifferent and turned to him with pursed lips. “Well, what the hell’dya  do?”  

“..I was baiting him…I guess…”  

“Yeesh. Dunno what ya’ mean but it sounds rough.” She crosses one leg over the other, giving Leone a slow look up and down. “Cute shirt.”  

Despite the situation, Leone still felt buzzed by the compliment. “Thanks..”  

“Uh-huh.” Out comes another gust of smoke, and a moment of silence passes. Leone can’t really return to his lamenting with another person so close like this, so he just sits there awkwardly, picking at the skin of his fingernails.  

“Listen, I get you’re depressed about your friend and all, but I’m sure it’ll turn out okay.” She hums, putting a hand to his shoulder. “I got somethin’ to take your mind off it, if you want it.”  

Leone sunken eyes drift to her slowly. “..cigs are nasty..drugs are..bad.” He says simply.   

She smirks at him and snorts. “That’s not what I’m talkin’ about, dumbass.”  

Leone looks at her confusedly. “..then what?”  

Her smile thins out and she appears a little more thoughtful. She hums a quiet sound and lifts her hand from his shoulder, touching his hair instead, threading it through her fingers and tucking it behind his ear, making his skin tingle.  

“I dunno, you’re cute..we could make out..” She says quietly, her other hand stamping out her cigarette on the bed post, leaving a dark black spot against the wood.  

A lump forms in Leone’s throat. She’s..coming onto him? That was maybe the last thing he expected here. This was an almost entirely new experience..he didn’t know how to feel. Except…maybe this was what he needed. ‘Will this shatter the illusion?’ It was so simple…If he could be intimate with a woman, then maybe he could be..freed. 

Even with all this floating through his mind, he doesn’t answer her, staring blankly. She chuckles at him and leans in a little, placing her hand on his chest, fingers trailing along the purple cord of his shirt, and even grazing against the skin that lies beyond it. 

“I’ll take a guess and say you’ve never done this before?”  

He nods.  

She appears strangely delighted by this fact, grinning lightly. “Don’t worry, it’s not as intimidating as it seems..just- close your eyes..” She leans closer, and Leone can smell the substance on her breath. 

He closes his eyes. Can feel her presence getting closer..her hands still foreign against him. Then there’s the sudden connection of their lips, slow but unpracticed. Amateur. It’s warm, at least, but not in the same way it had been with …he won’t let his thoughts go there. She’s kissing him, and he’s trying to do the same, but each movement is so shallow...hollow. There’s no passion, but that’s now what this is about anyways. It’s obligation .  

This was his absolution.  

She deepens the kiss, moving one of his hands to latch onto her breast. 

‘Take me.’  

She curls a finger around his hair. His thoughts slowing…plummeting... 

‘Cleanse me.’  

Trembling breaths, yet he feels no sense of pleasure. But he tries. 

‘Renew me.’  

Her hand beneath his shirt, short-clipped nails raking against his stomach.  

‘Consecrate me.’   

Her fingers slip lower, and lower, right over the front of his pants before Leone’s eyes are shot open, and he grabs at her shoulder, shoving her away. She falls to the floor with a loud thud and shrill exhalation, gaining the attention of the other bystanders.  

“Ow- What the fuck?!” She shouts from below, others already surrounding her to get her up.  

He..he hadn’t meant to push, but this—this isn’t what he wanted. It isn’t right. Things took a dark turn faster than his mind could keep up with. He stands up, half-asses an attempt at fixing his clothes before dashing out of the room yet again, wanting absolutely nothing more than to go home. ‘Home’…or rather just anywhere but here.  

The world is muted around him as he maneuvers back down the hall, through the living room, past the kitchen and out to the front lawn, looks coming from every direction. He trips, maybe twice, dirtying his jeans and hands. Surely, he’s crying now. He feels like he might puke with how fast his blood is rushing, how he can hear it in his ears and feel it at his fingertips. But he keeps running, making his legs work until he sees Y/N’s car come into sight, the headlights shining bright…He wishes he never had to face him again, but how else is he supposed to get home? 

He’s out of breath when he reaches the car, and he grabs at the passenger side handle, rubbing at his eyes, trying to delay the sobbing.  

“Y/N please just take me home I-!“   

Leone freezes. Matteo is there..and Y/N is there, too. He’d caught them, lip locked. Matteo’s hand caressing Y/N’s jaw sweetly, and vice versa. It’s too much. It’s the last thing it takes to make him snap.  

“Leone-“ Matteo starts, but Leone doesn’t let him get a word out. 

He grabs him by the collar of his shirt and drags him out of the car with all the force he can muster, sending Matteo to the ground, dirt stirring in the air with his collapse. Y/N is shouting from beside him, but Leone stops listening. Matteo scrambles to get Leone’s hand off of him, but he’s too frazzled and uncoordinated to make an effective attempt. Leone climbs on top of him, raising his fist, and letting it crash in the dead center of Matteo’s face, feeling the bone of his nose give way at impact. Matteo bellows and grunts, squirming, but Leone doesn’t stop there. Blow after blow, his fist becomes splattered in blood. Adrenaline blinding him. It’s ugly. Overwhelming. Scornful. And scathing.  

It was the result of his repression, and it was unavoidable.  

He isn’t there when Y/N pushes him off. He isn’t there when Y/N turns to Matteo’s aid first. He isn’t there when Marcello comes rushing over, swearing and cursing him out. He isn’t there when Marcello kicks him in the ribs and sends a sharp pain all throughout his body.  

“Stay the fuck away from me! D’you hear me? I don’t ever want to see you again!” Y/N’s voice cuts through.   

It’s fine. It’s over now. Even hunched over, wheezing and sobbing, Leone repeated these words to himself.  

This was the reality he had to bring himself to.  

Chapter Text

The Lamb.   

Naive. Obedient. Lost without another being to guide—helpless. Vulnerable. Fearful. Sacrificial. Conforming.  

   *** 

Leone’s father arrived at the party an hour later. He was horrified to see his son slouched against a complete stranger’s sofa, blood covering his right fist, his clothes battered and dirtied, pale as a sheet. Wouldn’t speak a word...breathing shallowly through his parted lips, cracked and dry. He looked like he was dead.  

Marcello had angrily forced Leone to cough up his house-phone number, because no one was sober enough to drive him home, and no one was crazy enough to try anyways. Leonardo answered the phone with a gruff bite to his tone, upset at being awoken in the middle of the night, which only became increasingly agitated as Marcello explained the situation; starting with the fact that Leone was attending an (unauthorized) party, and ending with the fact that he’d smashed Matteo’s face in and broken his nose.  

Leone was only vaguely conscious throughout the phone call, but he preferred it that way. He was in a state somewhere on the edge of passing out and completely losing it. He felt detached from his body, like he was floating outside of himself and watching everything unfold, limbs unmoving as Marcello dragged him into the house and threw him down wherever. As he was being whisked away, he could still see Y/N and others fussing over Matteo, trying to get his face to stop gushing. It was all very uncanny, nothing felt entirely real but at the same time felt too absolute.  

He did not feel proud. He felt momentarily satisfied, but it disappeared as quick as a dash of wind. As much as he’d imagined it in his head, beating Matteo did not make him feel liberated, or strong. He wishes it had, though. He wishes there was at least a smidge of silver lining to his arbitrary behavior.  

His father and Marcello were standing above him now, trying to get a play-by-play of the entire situation, of which Marcello was incredibly unreliable considering he had stepped in last minute. Funnily enough, he proudly admitted to kicking the shit out of Leone, which Leonardo had almost zero reaction or comment to. He probably thinks he deserved it. Leone thinks so too.  

Leone’s eyes stung from all the crying. He was tired...in a thousand different ways. There was a lingering sense of paranoia, with his father standing in front of him right now. He didn’t know what to expect from the man—the last time he stepped out of line he was subjected to a mere slap. His offense this time was certainly worse, and he could only imagine what kind of fierce punishment he’d be receiving when they got home.  

“Get up.” Leonardo said, already turning and heading for the door. Leone said nothing and began to push himself off the couch sloppily, swaying from side to side and not even really feeling the floor beneath his feet. His father seemed unconcerned with his current state and continued to exit despite the quiet groans of struggle coming from behind him. Leone was sore all over, from the ache in his ribs and back to the pain still jittering at his knuckles.  

The walk to the car was essentially the walk of shame. All around there were people whispering and gawking at him, only making things all the more unbearable. Y/N was nowhere to be seen, and perhaps he had entered the house at some point, but Leone was too out of it to realize. He wanted needed to stop caring about him, though. He pushed onward.  

He didn’t dare make eye contact with his father as they drove off the plot. He had clearly gotten in the car the moment he got off the phone with Marcello, since he was still donning his pajamas. The atmosphere was still. Nothing moved except for his hands on the steering wheel. Even the radio was participating in the total silence. As expected. His fear was more palpable now. He tucked his head into the crook of the window and let his eyes close to avoid it.  

————— 

The discipline that Leone received had both met and far exceeded his expectations. 

Upon arriving home that night, his father said nothing to him, the two of them retreating to their respective spaces to process and sleep off the shit show they’d been subject to. It wasn’t until the morning after that Leonardo finally spoke again, and the words that came from his mouth were…beyond devastating.  

When Leone woke up that morning he was treated to a splitting headache and bruised body. His father was standing in the doorway but surprisingly wasn’t in his work uniform. He’d taken off of work. He didn’t seem as angry as Leone hoped—instead he looked...resolute. As he began to speak, all Leone could do was watch.  

... 

Leone would no longer be attending school in Montepulciano. Instead, his father was apparently going to begin making preparations for them to move to Naples. Naples ? Leone genuinely couldn’t believe his ears when the information was revealed. They were just going to…up and leave? Several questions darted across his mind; ‘Are we really going?’ ‘Why Naples? That’s so far.’ ‘What about the house?’  

“I can’t trust you to remain here. You crossed the line with the stunt you pulled last night.” There was no room for argument, this was final. “You have done everything in your power to make a fool out of yourself and this family, and I will have no more of it.” 

Leone could only stare, and in an instant, he was getting vivid replays of the last year in his mind. From the day he and Y/N had first met to last night. Was his father...serious? It was impossible to think he would be leaving this home, the only one he’d ever known—where the floorboards were creaky with each excited or sluggish step, and the walls withheld a concoction of laughs and gentle voices. Then again, Leone believed those voices and steps had become more spiteful than anything with time and circumstance.  

He looked to the picture hung on his wall, of his family, eyes immediately landing on the floral pattern of his mother’s dress, vibrant colors faded with age. He’d only torn out her face because he couldn’t stand to see her there but not see her here …but in a moment like this he wishes he could gaze upon her amiable features one last time, to settle the disruption in his heart.  

She would be left here all on her own, if they moved. Tethered. Not just to the home, but to Pienza itself. Her community is what she cherished the most, second to her family. Leone isn’t sure he can bear the thought of leaving without her. Not like he can dig her out the grave and carry her along, though.  

He’d thought last night was the end, but no...this was the end of the end. And there was truly nothing he could do…he had lost all control, in more than one way. Utterly helpless.  

At least he would finally get to live his dream of living in the city.  

————— 

The weeks leading up to the move were no less than hellish. Leone was like a hologram throughout most of it, fading in and out of consciousness at any given moment, almost entirely disassociated from the world around him. He hadn’t gone back to school—really there was no need to, since he’d be transferring anyways. It was the only reason Leonardo let him stay home. He didn’t want to go to school anyways, knowing it’d only re-trigger a slur of emotions he didn’t have the heart to deal with…not to mention all the talk that was probably going around. 

It only took a week or so for them to be secured a new flat in Naples...apparently his father had connections. While he was away at work, Leone would be given various tasks in order to begin the process of packing; sorting out things they no longer needed in the garage, clearing the attic, setting out old furniture to be sold...Leone did his best to remain unaffected by the memories he was being forced to dispose of, but even that was difficult.  

One particular evening, he was clearing and organizing the bookshelf in the living room, a large cardboard box sitting beside him as he blearily set the books inside by order of their genre and alphabetical title. He grabbed hold of his favorite, ‘For Solo Voice.’ He felt he related it to it now more than he ever had in his entire life. An open wound, bleeding but not knowing how to make it stop, or why it’s being bombarded with all of these atrocities. Setting the book deep into the box felt like a symbol in itself.  

In all the time he’d been given to think, he was constantly being threatened by the thought of Y/N…He felt he was unworthy to do so—to just think about him... Even just the slightest image of his face would hit him with the sharpest phantom pain that made his knees weak and his stomach ill.  

He’d begun speculating on where it all went wrong. Was it doomed from the start? Could it have even been avoided? He doesn’t think so. There was always an existing tension between the two of them that he could never put his finger on…he isn’t sure how he let himself ignore it for so long. He should have let him go the moment he caught sight of that look in his eyes when they were alone together—when his irises would shift back and forth across Leone’s face, taking in every little detail with such a close attention Leone was scared to breathe. 

The more he thinks about it the more terrifying it becomes. Y/N had so easily cracked open his heart..ignored all the sharp-ended shells and stepped right inside, made a comfortable space for himself. That is, of course, the only reason they’ve ended up in this situation. It was the sinister vexation that he allowed himself to succumb to. If only Leone had been more alert, if he had sticked to his introversions, if he had remained impartial,  

if  

if  

if.

It was a torturous train of rumination that he wasn’t sure he could ever escape.  

His desire to proceed in this timeline was steadily dwindling.  

————— 

Their move to Naples was quiet. Only a few of his neighbors came by to ask what was going on by the time the moving services showed up to their home in mid-October, most just passing on their best wishes for safe travels, others surprised by how abrupt it all was. Leonardo naturally felt no need to explain himself to anyone and merely told them he was looking for a change of scenery…a change of scenery indeed. Leone quietly wondered if this news would reach Y/N somehow... 

He still hadn’t heard from him, even though it had been at least two weeks. He had been secretly hoping for a phone call, perhaps, or an impromptu visit— neither of which Leone would answer even if that was the case. It was just the prospect, that maybe he did still care, or maybe he didn’t mean what he said that night and he still missed Leone, that kept him hoping. 

Leone felt he still had so much to say to him. So much to apologize for—He never even got the chance to reply to his outburst at the party. He craved reconciliation, yet simultaneously was aware that he would never receive it. Existing between these two truths was punishment in itself. The seed that his father had planted in him was still ever present, the belief that ‘this was for the best.’ In some ways, Leone thought he was right…if Leone isn't here, and far from Y/N, he won’t hurt him anymore. By removing himself entirely from the equation, he no longer has the ability to screw things up.  

Besides, he knew things between him and Y/N would’ve never worked out anyways. He told himself this repeatedly.  

‘Nothing gained is nothing lost..’ Right?  

He remained a walking contradiction of himself. That much was obvious. 

Leone did not care for the new apartment. He had no intentions of giving it a chance, anyways, but the comparably smaller space left much to be desired. It aggravated him, more so, that he’d have to live in such close quarters with his father from now until God knows how long.  

Objectively, it was a nice apartment. It had a traditional style to it, with the tile flooring decorated rustically, a pristine shine covering patterns of blue and burnt sienna diamonds. The furniture left throughout the house by the previous owners was a mixture of cherry and maple wood, from the tv stand to the closets, each shimmering gold in the face of the evening sun. There were green accents to accompany it, primarily in the kitchen where the doorframes were as such, and even a few of the wall tiles had little vine like depictions on them. The balcony had a rather shoddy view of the back of another apartment building, but it at least carried a nice breeze through from time to time.  

It was homey, but it wasn’t home . He could not, and would not call it that.  

As tired as he’d been from lugging all of their boxes up the stairs all day long, Leone did not sleep that first night…nor the next, or the one after that. Every corner of the place felt cramped and uncomfortable. Closing his eyes in his stiff bed felt like betrayal. Taking a shower where the faucet didn’t creak felt traitorous. He didn’t belong here …as much as he fantasized about moving to the city, he never imagined it would be like…this. The bustling of cars, the whistles of patrol officers filtering through the windows…he used to think those would make a good substitute for the townsfolk gossip, but it was entirely distressing.  

He had even been wrong in his assumption that it would somehow provide him freedom. No, instead, this apartment was his personal hell. Each square inch served to taunt him, a relentless reminder of his sin and how he got here in the first place. He imagined things would only get worse once he reenrolled in school.  

He would be…alone again.  

Alone for the first time in a whole year.  

No one to drive him to school every morning. No one to tell him a nonsensical pun. No one to compliment his hair, no one whose gaze he could rely on when he was feeling desperate.   

No one who cared.   

He was alone.  

Chapter Text

Everything about that night had gone the opposite of how you’d imagined it in your head. 

The version you’d crafted had been wild…but not just plain disaster. Things started out perfect; Leone successfully snuck out of his house and showed that he truly was breaking out of his shell, the party environment was inviting and thrilling, you were having a great time with your two closest...’friends.’ 

 It all went down the drain the moment you took those shots—sure it had been fun to begin with, but you should’ve known it would have resulted in some disorderly behavior that you couldn’t control. It frustrated you even more how much brain fog you experienced the day after, where you could remember most of what happened, but not in the vivid way you wished you could... You could envision bits and pieces...like talking to Matteo in the kitchen, or dancing with Leone in the living room, the stickiness of his warm palms, the weight of his head on your shoulder, the sight of him…running away. The dialogue in-between was almost like static, but you could break through it when you concentrated enough.  

It hadn’t escaped you, though, what happened after Leone disappeared. 

You and Matteo had finally broken out of the crowd and made your way outside to the lawn again, your arm slung around his shoulder as he tried his best to support each of your steps despite being tipsy himself. The scenery was dark and shifty as he led you to your car, the music from inside slowly fading. 
 
Soon it was just you and him, finally allotted the silence that you needed to get your system to settle, the anger beginning to lose its flare and be replaced with…solitude. You laid back against your seat, head turned up towards the ceiling, taking the deep breaths that Matteo instructed as best you could manage.  

“I don’t understand him. I want to, but he makes it impossible!” You’d mumbled. “He always does this—I try, God I try so hard-“  

Matteo sighed and turned to face you. “…I didn’t know things ran that deep between you two.”  

…  

You looked to him. “I never told you about it ‘cause I..I didn’t want it to get between us. You...you already thought he was your replacement.”  

“Isn’t he?”  

“No-no he’s not..I mean we kissed once but that was all-“  

Matteo seemed irked by this. “You kissed him?”  

“It doesn’t matter- please don’t start actin' like some prude-“ You huffed, beginning to become agitated again.   

He looked away for a moment, then returned his gaze to you, folding his arms. “I won’t. But I wish I’d known you’ve been hung up about him all this time.”   

You paused, attempting to process the emotional tone his words carried in comparison to their usual lightheartedness.   

“..I…I haven’t been.”  

“The way you reacted in there says otherwise.”  

“What the hell does it matter anyways, Matteo?-“  

“-I’ve been trying to win you back all this time.”  

…  

“Huh?”  

He sort of smiled, like he was talking to a clueless child. “I never stopped liking you. I’ve been trying to put the moves on ya for weeks. ‘Guess now I know why it wasn’t workin'.”  

You shook your head in slight disbelief. “I don’t…I mean…I speculated but I didn’t think it’d be true..”  

He laughed then, resting his chin in his hand. “Come on, you’re telling me you didn’t pick up on even a single one of my advances?”  

“..maybe, I don’t know..”   

“..Regardless, I don’t want to...waste my time, I guess. If Leone’s got ya hooked, then I’ll butt out.”   

“No-“ You’d been doing a whole lot of talking, and not putting a second of thought behind any of it. “I’m...I’m done with him. He’s…not the one.”   

Matteo let out a long sigh of relief, grinning. “Thank god-…I mean not- not about the situation I’m...sorry things didn’t go the way you hoped.” He quickly muttered.   

You smiled weakly at his blunder. “It’s alright. You...You’re better anyways…” You set your hand on his thigh, patting it and nodding your head.   

He chuckled of course and leaned closer. “You think so?”   

“Oh- totally…you know what you want, you’re not afraid of..of anythin', and you don’t treat me like I’m..like I don’t matter or somethin'..and you’re so charming and..and cool..” You rambled.   

“You give me too much credit.”   

“Better than none at all.” Your hand moved from his leg to his face, palm flat against his cheek as he stared back at you, smiling faintly, his own hand grabbing loosely at your wrist.   

“..Y/N, do you like me?” He said after a brief silence.   

You hesitated. But nodded. “Oh..Of..of course I do..”   

Before you could say anything else about it, Matteo was leaning over the middle console, and kissing you carefully.   

The moment had then been absolutely screwed by Leone’s violent interruption. You would probably never forget the look on his face when he opened that door. You imagined yours was equally rattled, Matteo’s even more so. Watching Leone tear him out of your car was- well you hadn’t even known he harbored that kind of strength. Frankly it was terrifying. Though it was nothing in comparison to the sight of Matteo twitching on the ground like a dead roach with his nose warped in a most unnatural way, and blood seeping into the collar of his shirt.  

The first thing that came was shock. Then disappointment. Then anger. Then action, all in rapid succession, but in reality, it felt like everything was in slow motion... You nearly fell jumping out of the car and rushing behind Leone and shoving him off of Matteo, which was a challenge in itself as you had to avoid being elbowed in the face every time he drew his fist back.  

Shouting those words had been...painful. Simply because of how much you realized you meant them…at least in the moment. They came from a place of genuine hatred. You never wanted to see him again . No longer was Leone your source of joy and leisure..rather, he was a hub for confusion and animosity that was destroying you from the inside out. You simply couldn’t handle it anymore- especially not after he’d done this to Matteo.  

It was because of him that you had to spend the rest of your night in possibly the most nerve splitting situation you could imagine… 

After carrying Matteo back inside the house, you were tasked with watching over him as Marcello handled things with Leone.  

“Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll get this guy outta here, then I’ll get an ambulance, alright?” He’d said hurriedly before dashing out to the lawn again. 

Matteo was groaning in pain as he stood with his face hanging over the sink, letting the blood wash down the drain as opposed to letting it drip all over the floor. You were hyperventilating by then, with everything happening so quick and suddenly, trying to push past your own inebriation in order to console Matteo as best you could, which felt futile either way. Some other people, whom you assumed were more friends of his, stepped in to try and help out, providing a box of tissues or a roll of paper towels they found from somewhere around the house, only making things more overwhelming.  

It took at least 20 minutes for the ambulance to arrive. That had been the first time you’d ever ridden in the back of one before, and you couldn’t say it was a pleasant experience. Marcello had offered to go with Matteo, but you felt a sense of responsibility for what happened, so he let you go in his stead, promising he would try and catch up with you as soon as he could. 

Sitting in the back of that vehicle, you were nearly sweating buckets. You were forced to play up your sobriety when they began asking you questions, but even then, you were sure they could tell you were under the influence, considering how much you were fidgeting. None of them seemed intent on pressing you about it though, so most of the ride was silent...and you were hoping it would remain that way when you finally made it to the hospital. 

Most of it was, unsurprisingly, a blur, monochromatic sterility blinding your vision the moment you stepped foot into the waiting room and only continued to scold you for the hour or so that you remained there. Most of your thoughts were variations of whether or not Matteo was okay, while the rest were things like ‘God, I left my car at Marcello’s place...how am I gonna get home?’ ‘What am I gonna tell mom?’ ‘What time is it’?’ Dad’s gonna slaughter me.’ Each making you more distressed by the second.  

 Marcello turned up at the 30-minute mark, equip with a bottled water for you, and some money for the vending machine down the hall, enabling you to ‘sober up.’ It mostly helped but left you feeling exasperated. He appeared almost entirely unphased by everything, which in a way pissed you off, yet simultaneously provided a bit of calm amidst the chaos.  

“This happens all the time, don’t worry.” He’d said casually. It was both funny and alarming to think this had happened more than once. It reminded you once again that Matteo’s not exactly who you knew him to be.  

Once the hour passed, you two were finally able to see Matteo. Walking past the curtain that concealed him, you were treated to the sight of him looking all too relaxed, probably high on a painkiller. His nose was covered in a splint, but you could still see the bruises that surrounded it, along with the purple splotch that was beginning to form around his left eye, making you internally wince. Still, he smiled and sat you down beside him with a tug at your wrist, starting to ramble on about how surprised he was by everything, and asking if you were alright.  

He had apparently been questioned by the police after they found out he’d been drinking, but he was lucky enough to get off with a fine and a warning. He didn’t mention anything about you, but claimed he didn’t spare the details on Leone.  

“You gonna press charges, or what?” Marcello said.   

Matteo huffed and rolled his eyes. “When have I ever? You already know what my protocol is.”   

You didn’t know what he meant by protocol, but judging by the devious smirk on Marcello’s face, you imagined it had something to do with a more...physical type of revenge. ‘Good.’ You’d thought. Leone deserved whatever was coming for him at that point. You didn’t.. want to see him hurt, but it was just a consequence of his actions, who were you to stop it? 

Eventually, Matteo was free to go home, and offered you to come with him, but you declined, opting to call Giovanni to come get you instead. While it was a nice gesture, you longed to be back in the comfort of your own home to make up for the back-to-back turmoil of the night. Matteo seemed to understand this, telling you to call him tomorrow before taking off with Marcello.  

Gio was rightfully peeved when he answered your call from the hospital, whisper-screaming into the phone about how worried your mom was, and how you were definitely going to get your ass kicked. You knew this already, but having it become reality did make you feel a mixture of guilt and fear. After he was finally done chewing you out, he made his way to get you as quick as he could, returning you home safely, although not without another earful about you being a dumbass on the way back. You were willing to take it since he was right.  

He was able to get your parents to hold off on their own scolding until the morning, allowing you to finally get to bed, where you nearly collapsed just at the sight of your blankets. 

 ————— 

Expectedly, they had not been so kind the next day. You had just barely wobbled into the bathroom to take a piss before your mother was already banging at your door, yelling in a way you hadn’t heard her since God-knows when. Her voice certainly didn’t help your headache either.  

You were forced to sit on the living room couch and explain to her and your father where you were, what you were doing, and who all was there, as if you were personally acquainted with every single partygoer. You willingly complied, figuring it was too late to lie anyways, and doing so would probably just put you in deeper shit than necessary. So, you did your best to explain what you remembered. Gio was spectating as well, with his expression attempting to be neutral but looking worried still. He was too much of a knucklehead to admit he was scared about his baby brother, but it kind of warmed your heart to know he was.  

In your explanation, you found yourself leaving out all the bits about Leone, including the argument you had and the fight he got into with Matteo. You thought to yourself, ‘I’m not protecting him, I’m protecting myself.’ In a way, this was true, as you were still very intent on keeping the mess of your sexuality on a tight leash, and away from your parents. Perhaps later, though, you would give a detailed retelling to Gio.  

Your mother was disappointed, but glad that you’d made it out unscathed, and seemed sympathetic towards the possibly frightening experience of watching Matteo get beat up and then having to go to the hospital. Your father was..less moved by the narrative, and grounded you for two weeks, barring you from any social outings and demanding you come right home after school every day. Fair enough. It definitely could have been worse.   

You also weren’t allowed to make any leisurely phone calls unless it was an emergency, which was a bit more of a bite in the ass. You were hoping to at least check up on Matteo, but it wouldn’t kill you to wait 24 hours to be able to talk with him at school.  

Most of that day was spent recovering, lying in bed and accepting all Gio’s shockingly helpful tips on how to nurse a hangover, giving you a bowl of fruit, one of his sports drinks, and convincing your mother to make you some soup, which really did work wonders. It was almost amusing, knowing you were in trouble but still being somewhat catered to. It was a reminder of how grateful you were for your family. Gio had even offered to go and pick up your car from Marcello’s house, which you were thanking the heavens that you hadn’t lost your keys in all your fumbling. 

Come to find out, though, Gio was mostly being so nice to you because he wanted to butter you up before getting you to spill all the info on what went down. You should’ve guessed, but you were more than fine with obliging.

He was completely encapsulated by the story, and shocked to hear what Leone had done. You realized how much you’d left out on that front, since the last he’d heard was of the kiss you two had. You promised him you would keep him more updated next time.  

“So, what happened to Leone?”  

You shrugged and leaned against the headboard of the bed, sipping a spoonful of soup. “..Marcello told me he called his dad, and he took him home. Other than that, I’m not sure.”  

“Damn...I’m sure his dad’s gonna flip. And he’s a cop? Might as well start preparing for the funeral-“ Gio snickered. 

“Jesus, don’t be so grim...”  

It wasn’t until Gio mentioned it that you did begin to wonder what possibly happened to Leone. You were still firm in your choice to cut him off, but that didn’t mean you weren't curious...and perhaps worried. Leonardo was strict, that much was obvious, and there was no telling what lengths he might go to, just to reprimand Leone. You had a bad feeling about it..almost making you physically shiver.  

But you were trying to put him out of mind. Knowing yourself, the more you allowed yourself to reflect, the more likely you were to try and find some kind of loophole or excuse to allow him back into your life, just as you had before.. 

It was time to move on...officially . No longer would you let yourself feel guilty about the way things ended or ruminate about what could have and should have been. 

 ————— 

Showing up to school the next day, Matteo cheerily greets you, feet propped up against his desk freely. It looks like the swelling of his face had gone down, but he still looks...well, horrible; covered in bruises and his nose still covered in bandages. There are a gaggle of classmates behind him, gawking and asking what happened with astonishment. You guess he had been entertaining them up until now, which was admittedly amusing at first glance. When you finally sit down though, he sent them away with a shoo-ing motion, focusing on you.  

“Famous now, hm?” You say, taking out your textbook and note pages.  

“Jealous?” He shoots back, grinning wide.  

“I don’t think I’ve got anything to be jealous about. You look like shit.”  

“Shut up..” He grumbles, setting his feet flat on the floor and crossing his arms in a half-pout.  

Laughing, you wave him off, putting a heading at the top of your page. For how intense things had been, it felt good that he wasn’t taking things too harshly, even as much as you believed he should. 

Looking up, your gaze hones in on the empty chair two seats ahead of you. Leone is..not here. ‘Who cares?’   

“Hey uh..I’m really sorry about what happened. Like- I…I didn’t know he was gonna..do all that. And just- sorry for ruining the party...” You say, facing Matteo again with a weary frown. If it were up to you, you would’ve apologized much sooner. 

Matteo shakes his head. “Not your fault. It’s that crazy bastard who should be apologizing.”  

Hearing Matteo insult Leone so easily..so casually felt worse than you wish it did. You nod. 

“He’d better be glad he didn’t show up today…” Matteo begins mumbling to himself, turning round in his seat and using one of his pens to draw on his desk.  

“…You really gonna get back at ‘em like that?” You ask quietly, heart shrinking.  

Matteo raises an eyebrow at the apparent display of disapproval. “Why shouldn’t I? The bitch broke my nose.”  

“Fair..but also-“ You sigh, flipping your pencil between your fingers. “..I don’t want you gettin' suspended- or expelled again.” Surely that was what you actually thought.  

Matteo becomes sly again, tilting his head and leaning towards you. “What, you’d miss me or somethin’?”  

You smile lightly. “I’m serious, Matteo.”  

He sighs heavily and sits back again. “Don’t worry about that. I planned on doin’ it after school anyways.”  

Somehow, that did not put you at ease. Your built-in moral compass was telling you to stop him..but you couldn’t. So you nod again.  

“Okay…don’t come cryin' my name if he gets one over on you though..” You sneer, teasing.  

Matteo takes the bait and scoffs, grinning as he flicks his pen at you, which gently hits your arm before clattering to the floor, making you laugh.  

He reaches down to snatch up his pen again. “Like hell he will. He just caught me off guard the other night...” He pauses. “..Speaking of that-“ 

Oh boy.  

“ ..How much of that do you reme-“  

“If you’’re asking me if I remember us kissing, the answer is yes.” You reply curtly, turning to hide your face from him, a bit of color already coming to your cheeks.  

“Oh-!..Good then..that makes this a whole lot easier.”  

“..Makes what easier?” Your heart is racing.  

He smiles smartly. “I want you to be my boyfriend.”  

Even in anticipating his words, to hear them finally was something else entirely. It was…exciting. Scary. Risky? 

“Lower your voice-“ is what you say first. 

Matteo puffs and rolls his eyes, as if he couldn’t care less. “I hope you know that’s not an answer-“  

“Shush--I was getting to that..” You were hesitating far too much. Your eyes lock onto Leone’s desk in front of you again. And then back to Matteo… fuck it. . 

“..Yes, Matteo I..” You snort at how ridiculous it feels to say it out loud. “..I will be your boyfriend. Happy now?” You say in a quieter tone.  

Matteo looks like he right on the verge of exploding, but keeps it in for your sake, nodding frantically.  

And maybe it was dumb of you to take up on this offer so soon after experiencing something so..honestly, life altering..but you were tired of waiting. You had done enough of that. You wanted to live life your way now— by your own accord.   

————— 

It’s been a week since then…Leone is still a no show. 

It became suspicious after the third day. As much as you told yourself you didn’t care, it was just...unsettling. It would’ve been fine if he showed up and was simply ignoring you—in fact that’s exactly what you wanted—but total absence was a different ballpark. You brought it up to Gio, but all he said was,  

‘If you wanna get over the guy you can’t obsess over what he’s got goin’ on.’  

Which was a fair statement, but you still had this gut feeling... 

Matteo was more than pissed off about it. On the fourth day, the two of you were sitting in your usual spot during recess, the soccer field empty, lounging around with his head in your lap, when he brought it up first; 

‘I wish he’d show up already so I can get back at ‘im and get on with my life already.’  

You’d rolled your eyes at him. ‘You shouldn’t be so hung up on violence anyways.’   

‘Don’t get all saintly on me now, dipshit.’  

You tried to keep calm about it, but that became increasingly difficult as the next week flew by. Many nights you had contemplated calling, but you still weren’t allowed to use the phone, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer if you did manage to get to it. Going to his house wasn’t an option either…The only thing that kept you placated was the fact that there were no missing posters showing up around town. Yet.  

The worry morphed into panic when October rolled around. The leaves were turned, and the air was taught with an oncoming cold front, painting the town a dreary grey that usually intrigued you at this time of year... But this time around it felt more like a testament than anything. You were being slowly smothered by the anguish that Leone’s disappearance caused, and it began to bleed into every corner of your life at its own will. 

Occasionally, you’d be making out with Matteo, only to open your eyes and see the ghost of Leone’s face in front of you, startling you and often turning Matteo off.  

Leone’s face took several different forms…sometimes he looked like his usual self; a little uninterested, tired eyes paired with a wry smile. Other times he appeared the way he did when you last saw him; wide eyes, trembling mouth, dirt staining his white hair. The worst image your mind came up with…was when he appeared dead.  

Skin so pale and translucent you could see the veins across his face and clinging to his skull. Cracked lips. Lifeless eyes that silently stared back at you, unmoving, unseeing. This one occurred the most, and had even begun creeping its way into your dreams.  

It was absolute torment. 

You guessed it was formed from the total uncertainty you had about Leone's whereabouts, but even so it felt like such an extreme conclusion, you couldn’t understand why your mind would conjure something so...grotesque. For the sake of not sounding absolutely mental, you refrained from telling anyone about this…Especially Matteo. Even though you trusted him, you still knew it would rub him the wrong way if you essentially told him you were fantasizing about his..’nemesis.’  

It had become too much to handle when you had a particularly nightmarish dream about Leone curled up, malnourished in the middle of the field you two had visited in the summer being eaten alive by a swarm of bugs and fiendish animals, causing you to wake up in a feverish sweat. You immediately sprung out of bed and forced yourself not to throw up, rushing downstairs and getting into your car. It was the middle of the night, but that didn’t matter. You drove straight to Leone’s house, speeding down the road and thank God there were no other cars out. 

Upon your arrival, the first thing you noticed is that his father’s car was nowhere to be seen. It was too late at night for him to be working still…unless he’d gotten his hours changed...?  

You had no idea where to go from there. You’d driven without a lick of a plan in mind...even if he was home, what were the chances he’d be awake at this hour? 

Still, you parked and jogged up to the porch, swallowing the lump in your throat before pressing the doorbell, hearing it chime all throughout the home before being followed by complete silence. You gave it a minute or two, nervously shifting from side to side, and pressing it again, more urgently this time… No response.  

Damnit.  

You were still feeling just as bad as before, if not worse. You couldn’t leave without some kind of confirmation… 

You stepped down the stairs again and moved towards the sitting room windows, forcing your way through the prickly bushes that stabbed through your pajama pants just to be met with the sight of...paper blinds. White lines strewn across the length of the windowpanes, blocking the inside view.  

Maybe they were getting new curtains...?  

You bend down a little, trying to find a break in the blockage, finding a slightly raised blind right at the edge of the window. Peering inside there was...nothing. Nothing?  

It’s hard to see, the only light source being the glow of the moon behind you that slips scarcely between the gaps of the blinds, but even with just that, you can discern that all the furniture is..gone. No light curving at the vintage couches that use to lie there…no glint off the record player..no intricately woven carpet rolled out.  

You quickly move to the other side of the house where the kitchen window was..it was the exact same. Desolate. No picture frames up on the walls, the dining table nowhere to be seen…like it had been abandoned.  

Abandoned.  

Leone is.. gone? 

Chapter Text

Fall of 1999. Rione Alto, Naples 

Leone stands in front of his bathroom mirror with a plain expression, his eyes darting from one point of his reflection to the other. The buzz of the early morning is amplified in the cramped space, birds chanting exchanges and cars grumbling through their commute. Just the same as any other day. 

He turns his head to the side, slightly frowning at the sight of his hair, which looked all too wispy for his liking. He raises his hands and ruffles it all up again, before dipping his fingers into more pomade, spreading it over his palms, and beginning to smooth down his sides, then finger-combing the crew cut hair in an upwards motion, perfecting its shape; square-ish with a bit of a pointed edge.  

He was glad to have cut it short. It was more manageable this way.  

Though he was initially sad to have cut off year's worth of hair growth progress, he now feels it was necessary step towards transition. It wasn’t originally his idea, nor his intention, but rather a requirement by the police academy he attended after graduating high school. It was more in favor of having a unified and respectable appearance across the entire force than anything else. After looking in the mirror for the first time after that cut, he hardly recognized himself…and that partly brought him a sense of ease.  

He reaches for the faucet and swings its handle forward, sticking his hands under the water and washing the rest of the sticky product off.  

Adjusting to living in Naples had not come quick to Leone by any means. Three years ago, his first day at his new school was nightmarish. His paranoia was doubly increased for reasons way beyond himself, and there wasn’t a day where he didn’t contemplate dropping out entirely. Being so far from the only place he knew as home was like being thrust into a desert with no map or guidance. No friends or connections, no knowledge of the layout. He wasn’t outright bullied, thank God, but did get strange looks every now and then for just…suddenly showing up out of nowhere and disrupting everyone’s mental roster of affiliates.  

Then of course there were the subtle jabs at his ‘accent,’ although he found Neapolitan to be the more unconventional dialect in any case. There had also been the enforcement of uniforms, which Leone found redundant, but he can only imagine how things would have been if the other students got a good look at his personal fashion style. He hadn’t quite abandoned the gothic look by then. Surely it would’ve made him look ten times more freakish.  

He hadn’t made very many friends during that time, but there were a few guys who he’d have recess with, in the library or on the front steps, just in each other's company for the sake of it and nothing else. Nothing deeper than that. Nothing like- 

Nonetheless, he brute forced his way through assimilation, and very slowly integrated himself into this new environment. The memories of Pienza began slipping away the moment he stopped being so stubborn and allowed himself to look ahead to the future. 

He and Leonardo were still..not on the best of terms. Even after Leone became content living in Naples, which took a lengthy year and a half, he still couldn’t forgive his father for practically dragging him out here. Amongst other things. But he supposed it gave the opportunity for a fresh start, so there was at least that. 

He wipes his hands on a nearby dry towel, now grabbing a tube of blackberry lipstick. 

He didn’t think about his father too much these days…mainly because he didn’t have to. As soon as he was promoted from the academy, he had officially begun his job as a Police Officer. He had been saving up money over the years from the small side job he found at a local shop, and combined with his first few paychecks as an officer, he was able to rent himself a new apartment. Granted, it was extremely tiny and only a few blocks away from his fathers’ place, but it was enough. It was his. 

Leonardo didn’t exactly fight him back on the idea once he brought it up to him a month ago. It was over dinner, and he’d looked a bit caught off guard, but in the end, made no objection. ‘You’re an adult now. I understand the desire for your own space.’ He’d said. Leone was shocked at how easy it had been to get him on board, expecting him to be a bit more apprehensive on letting his only child move out so soon. It made him feel strange.  

His father helped him get all of his things packed, which wasn’t very much to begin with, and even purchased him new furniture and appliances, despite Leone’s insistence that he could buy it himself. In reality, it had been a huge help, since Leone hadn’t really dedicated any of his funds to essentials, and was only concerned with getting the apartment itself. Within a month, he was all moved in, the only real struggle being getting all his things to the fifth floor. 

The lipstick glides along his skin, smooth as silk, before he caps it, and returns it to its place at the edge of the sink.  

He’d found it much easier to get accustomed to living in his new place than his previous one. Sure, the first few nights were a bit too quiet, but it was nothing compared to waking up in a cold sweat from stress or anxiety every hour. Being on his own felt natural, and he felt like he could finally breathe…could finally have that freedom he’d been chasing for so long. He could do things like this now- wear a bit of lipstick, or a thin swipe of eyeliner. Go to bed whenever he wanted, watch whatever he felt like on the televison. Make his own food. As simple as that may seem to anyone else, it was a huge relief for him.  

Leone looks in the mirror again, using the edge of his thumb to wipe away a small smudge of lipstick trying to escape the confines of his lip edge. He was proud of himself. He had really turned his life around, considering what it’d been like before. Living on his own at 19, secured his dream job, neat appearance, stable income. He could even go as far as saying he’s happy.  

He takes his hat from where it’d been tucked under his arm, pulling it gently over his head, and adjusting the brim so that the silver insignia is perfectly aligned with the bridge of his nose. His hands come up to straighten his tie and collar. He dusts off his sleeves a little. He smiles.  

Things are looking up. 

————— 

After clocking in at the station, Leone is given his designated post for the day, and heads there immediately. It’s a relatively nice day, if not a bit chilly with the wisps of wind coming from all directions. The sky is a striking blue hue, sunny with only a few thin clouds, the air free of any the gross stickiness that usually lingers after August..perfect for patrolling. If it were too hot, Leone would just feel miserable and drained, but the genial weather makes him feel optimistic. 

Leone had come to love his job as an officer, for the most part. During his 800 grueling hours of academy, he had frequently considered choosing a different career path, especially when it came to the law classes, but in the end, he knew he could never give up on this. As a teen, he only viewed it as a means to an end…he had no other interests, and he had been told his entire life that he was destined to take over his father’s role. But the more he learned, this view began to take a new shape. To be an officer meant to make a difference…to make an impact. Change. That wasn’t something he couldn’t find in his previous day-to day life. 

He was tired of feeling so…lost. He wanted to be able to do something that would make his life valuable—something that would make someone give a damn about him. The thought of helping others was never a sole concern of his until he began seeing just how much crime impacted the world around him. In all the case studies he’d done, it appalled him the lengths criminals would go to, to fulfill their selfish desires. Their greed and disregard sickened him. To eradicate them was his purpose, he realized. 

And so, his sense of justice was restored. He gained a new perspective on his father as well, respecting the difficulty and honor of his own position as Deputy Commissioner.  

There was also the unexpected pocket of power that came with being an officer, something more apparent in the earlier days of his work. It wasn’t so much power as it was ‘authority,’ but Leone viewed it as the former anyways. The way people looked at him was different..it wasn’t exactly fearful or uncomfortable, but there’s a silent understanding between citizens and the force about their respective roles. It was a change that he welcomed with open arms.  

Ducking out of his vehicle, the town is just as rowdy as ever as the clock nears noon. He was more than familiar with the area now, but he remembers feeling overwhelmed his first week on the job. In the heat of a shopping center, with the train station nearby, there was destined to be an overabundance of people. Leone minded the noise, very much so, but it was places like these that experienced the most crime, so he bared it. He always wishes they’d at least give him a patrol partner though. 

Especially yesterday. He’d gone home with a sour mood after he had rushed to stop some deviants from tagging the side of an apartment complex, only for there to be a mugging happening simultaneously. Obviously being one man, he couldn’t stop both at the same time, and got a nasty complaint from both the complex owner and the man who’d had his wallet nabbed. All he could do was sit there and take it, despite wanting to snap back at the asshole. 

 However, being calm and collected was part of the job, and he didn’t want to put a target on himself after joining the force so recently. It would make both him and the rest of his unit look bad, so he allowed the guy to ramble on for however long he wanted. Even though the interaction put a bad taste in his mouth, he didn’t want to let one experience spoil his faith, so he tried to brush it off.   

At the end of the day, it is the citizens who are the victims, so Leone couldn’t really be mad that the guy was furious…yet he still didn’t think said frustration should be projected onto him. He hopes today will be a bit better. 

And right now, it’s seeming like it will be. As Leone mans the side walk near his patrol car, thumbs tucked into the edges of his holster belt, he looks upon the faces of passerby’s, the only thing that kept him busy when there was no action, trying to gauge the collective moods of each one. Most looked carefree, some a bit frantic as they made their way towards the train, and others looking serene. Leone guesses the vibes of the upcoming weekend and the good weather is what’s got the mood so relaxed.  

It remains that way for maybe an hour before things begin rapidly changing.  

Leone turns his back to his car as he’s waved down by an old woman across the street who is in need of directions after getting lost, quickly making his way over to her to happily assist. He’s barely just opened his mouth to speak before he hears the sound of glass shattering behind him. He whips his body around, nearly giving himself whiplash, watching with utter shock as two teenage boys hurl rocks at his windshield like it had a big red target on it especially for them--not holding back an ounce of strength. 

He’s frozen in place one moment, and the very next he’s sprinting back across the road with a deep scowl on his face, shouting at the two boys to ‘stop right where you are!’, legs moving as fast as his adrenaline burst allows them to. He feels bad to have left that woman without her completed directions, but this was technically more important. He should’ve never left his vehicle unattended in the first place, knowing the kind of rats that skitter around this place.  

Just as he starts gaining on them though, there’s a high-pitched screaming heard from the opposite direction. He nearly trips on his own feet as he brings himself to an abrupt, reluctant stop, gritting his teeth as he sees the boys cheekily grinning as they get away. He ignores them and turns to the other end of the walkway; vision tunneled on a woman struggling against a purse-snatcher.  

For just a moment, he hesitates, heart racing and his blood beating in his ears. He had stupidly considered going after the boys again, but immediately thought better of it and started dashing towards the woman, yelling for those around to step aside so that he could get through quicker.  

But that brief moment of doubt had fucked him over. The second he nears the scene, the crook shoves the woman to the ground, breaking away from her with the purse in tow, before hopping onto his moped and speeding off with his getaway driver.  

 It’s…so much to process at once. Leone stands there in the middle of the crowd, dumbfounded as yet another criminal gets away. ‘Is this...real?’ 

In his moment of shock, Leone doesn’t notice the short man stomping towards him, only realizing his presence when he’s grabbed hold of his uniform collar, and begins roughly shaking him, yelling expletives in Leone’s face while pointing an accusatory finger dangerously close to his eye; 

“What the fuck? Aren’t you supposed to be a police officer?! Do something about this immediately! My wife’s just had her property stolen and you’re standing there like some dumbstruck idiot!” 

The more the man continues to shout, the less Leone is listening. Has this seriously happened again? How does he keep finding himself in this situation? Was someone deliberately doing all of this to try and take a stab at him? It doesn’t make any sense. He was doing everything in his power to keep these people safe. They’d seen him, right? Running as fast as he fucking could, even when he was already in the middle of another pursuit—He took priority over this woman, and she was still standing here behind her husband with a look of utmost disapproval and disgust, like she’d spit on him if she were close enough.  

Even bystanders were giving the same display, shaking their heads or whispering to those around them while Leone continued to be pushed around, screamed at and criticized.  

‘Do none of you realize how ridiculous of a situation this is?’ He wishes he could say.  

Leone could admit he was in some ways at fault, but this is just...unfair. The cracks in his resolve were starting to show. 

————— 

He was eventually able to get the man off him once he ran out of fuel and finally stopped yelling. Leone had to take several deep breaths before he could begin the typical procedure of gathering information so that they could have a chance at catching the purse snatcher, which took a lot more time than necessary with how stubborn the couple was being, constantly requesting for another officer to handle the ordeal. It was maybe the most exhausting process he had gone through since he began this job.  

He’d long given up the hopes of catching the boys who shattered his windshield, knowing he didn’t get a good enough look at their faces to do so. Getting back into his car at the end of his shift had brought almost no relief, since the fractured glass was just a reminder of today’s failure. He took off his hat and set in the passenger seat, strapping on his seatbelt with a deep sigh.  

This was all part of a larger problem that Leone had tried his best to ignore since the beginning. He’d heard it from some of his classmates in the academy, how 90% of civilians were overly critical and distrusting of the police, viewing them as useless stand-ins who pretend to be helpful just for a check. Uncooperative. Skeptical. Even though the police are the ones risking their lives and sanity every day, being put on the front lines to protect them from their bat-shit crazy counterparts. It was disheartening to think that any of this could be true, and Leone wanted to come to his own conclusions about it once he’d gotten the job.  

Ungrateful. That was his conclusion. One half of the population is greedy, and the other half is ungrateful.  

It was like a stake to the heart, after dedicating so much time to learning how to protect people who seemingly didn’t even deserve or want it. He didn’t want to assume everyone was like this—there were plenty of days where he wasn’t being insulted or harassed— but the evidence was starting to pile up. The initial glory of being a fresh face on patrol was long gone, and now he was being exposed to the true nature of the world.  

Thinking about it so much after an already ruined day was giving him a headache, so he tries again to quiet his mind, drawing in slow, even breaths through his nose and letting them out through his mouth. ‘Even if they are ungrateful,’ he thinks to himself., ‘I will not fail at my duty.’ The most important thing was keeping them safe, whether they cared or not. He wasn’t here for their admiration in the first place..he’s here to do what he knows is right in his heart.  

Closing his eyes for a moment, he solidifies this sentiment in his mind. He sets his hand on his key, twisting it into the ignition and starting up the car, now only wanting to clock out and put all of this behind himself. 

 ————— 

Leone arrives back to the station at around 10pm, stepping into the building with a sluggish gait, craving a cup of coffee, even at a time like this. Driving with a broken windshield at night had been more than just a hassle, and he wasn’t even sure how he was going to make it home, or more importantly how he was going to break the news to his boss…he’ll busy himself with that tomorrow.  

The office is mostly empty, except for those who have just begun their shift, looking well rested and prepared for the long night ahead of them. He recognizes one guy, someone he’d been in training with, looming over some other guy’s desk, potentially helping him with a report or technical issue. Leone quietly gives a nod of acknowledgment when they lock eyes with each other on accident but otherwise keeps silent as he makes his way into the break room, fixing himself a cup of espresso. Even though he was technically off the clock, he couldn’t go home without filing his reports for the day, and he wanted to be done with that as soon as humanly possible.  

Sipping on his liquid energy boost, he makes his way to his own desk, slowly bending at the knees to flop into his chair, pulling his notebook from its place in the folds of his blazer and tossing it next to his keyboard. Scribbled down are all the details he could squeeze out of that jerk from earlier about their assailant, along with some other notes about potentially checking the cameras of any stores in the area in case they had caught the attack either in progress or its aftermath. That way, there was at least the potential he could get the license plate of the moped.  

As he hunches over his keyboard and begins inputting everything into the system, he sees the guy from before moving towards him from out the corner of his eye, and mindlessly plans to ignore him, too tired for conversation. The guy stands in front of his cubicle, folding his arms across the top of it and leaning slightly forward. 

“Yo..Abbacchio, right?” He has an annoying voice, sort of deep with every word awkwardly drawn out. 

Leone doesn’t look up, just nodding and taking a sip of his coffee.  

“Do you even remember me?” The guy laughs. 

Leone can’t think of one reason why it matters. He lies and shakes his head. Can’t this guy see he’s busy? 

He whistles and makes a pouting face. “Damn, really? Cadet Sergio Jacovelli, doesn’t ring any bells?” 

Of course it does. Leone simply shrugs. Jacovelli appears offended by the indifference.  

“Right…well, how’ve you been, man? I know we weren’t all that close, but..never too late to start right?-“ 

“-I’m sorry to interrupt, Jacovelli, but is there something you need?” Leone finally breaks, hardly restraining the irritation in his tone. 

Wide eyed, the guy looks a little embarrassed, scratching at his arm and clearing his throat. “..N-Nah..I was just checking in, I guess. Hasn’t been a very eventful night.”  

“..must be a luxury...” Leone mumbles, rolling his eyes and going back to typing.  

Jacovelli’s eyes light up like he’s just realized something. “Had rough shift?” 

God bless this fool. “..Yeah, something like that.”  

He grins smartly, like he’s just gotten the correct answer on a game show, leaning even more into the space of Leone’s cubicle. “I feel ya’.” Leone seriously doubted that. “But you know, I heard we’re getting a new batch of recruits soon. ‘Think they’re gonna start giving us proper partners.” 

Leone finally pauses, looking up again, this time more intrigued. “…What? Where’d you hear that?”  

“Ah, some guys were talking about it earlier on the second floor. Apparently, crime rates are spiking all too much for the chief’s liking, and he wants to crack down on it big time.”  

‘Yeah, no kidding.’ Leone was at least glad that someone was finally doing something to remedy this chaos. He hums and nods, storing the info at the back of his mind for now, and getting back to his report for the millionth time. Jacovelli, however, continues to linger even after Leone has clearly disengaged from the conversation, tapping his finger against the cubicle wall with an expectant expression, which was starting to piss Leone off.  

“...G’night then.” Leone states, trying to urge the guy to get back to work, or literally anything but bothering him.  

Jacovelli perks up and gives a reluctant nod, obviously hoping for this conversation to have lasted a little longer. “Right- uh- goodnight...” He nods and tips his hat before finally scampering off, back to his own desk. Everything about that guy was just..odd.  

He was glad for the bit of info he had dropped though. The addition of a patrol partner would undoubtedly have positive effects...catching criminals wouldn’t be so much of a burden as it has been, with double the strength and another set of eyes to watch over each district. It is, honestly, like a prayer being answered. Leone can only hope that it’s true.   

Free of distractions, Leone is able to get the remainder of his logging done, and officially clocks out, driving home cautiously, and collapsing into his bed instantly, uniform still fully clung to his body. The coffee had been just enough to keep him awake through his overtime, but the moment he set sights on his comforter, that caffeine stood zero chance. 

‘Tomorrow.’ He thinks, mind slowly slipping away from him. ‘Tomorrow is another fresh start.’ 

‘…but this time I won’t be so naive.’ 

Chapter Text

Several days later, Leone is sat at his desk yet again, this time in the early afternoon, one leg crossed over the other as he glares down at the newspaper in front of him, a half-eaten blueberry muffin in hand. 

After being subjected to yet another round of relentless harassment the previous day, Leone requested to be temporarily transferred from his patrol duties, working at the station for today instead. At first, the Chief had given him a look of mild disapproval before mumbling something like ‘suit yourself’ under his breath and assigning Leone some small-scale disputes and reports to work on whilst someone else would be sent to watch over his district.  

“I don’t hand out favors all willy-nilly, so don’t get too comfortable. Next time you’re outta luck, rookie.” He’d said, tapping the end of a cigarette on the edge of a glass tray.  

He knew he was on thin ice after the whole windshield incident, if it weren’t clear enough from the guy’s tone. Leone felt disappointed in himself for cracking under the pressure so easily and retreating into the safety of the station, but the treatment from the general public was really starting to get to him. What more could he do? One day he was having his shoes spat on, and the next he was breaking up civilian fights, only to be jumped in the end for ‘sticking his nose in other peoples’ business.’ He just couldn’t win. If he did his job, people hated him—if he didn’t do his job people still hated him.  

He’d even resorted to asking Jacovelli about it;  

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect it either. They’ve all got pretty nasty attitudes, haven’t they? Well, I tend to just stay outta their way unless somebody’s got a weapon or something.” If it was possible for Leone to hate him more, he definitely did after that shitty answer. He suspected Jacovelli wouldn’t keep his job for very long. 

And it wasn’t just the citizens; Leone had come to find out the issue was even more deeply rooted than that.  

When Leone had first started his job, he didn’t bother much with the news. He, being so intensely focused on doing his job properly and making a good impression of himself, didn’t have time for reading or lounging, or anything other than work, honestly. As things began to calm down, though, he occasionally busied himself with the newspaper, figuring it was appropriate for an officer to keep up with what was going on around the city. 

Most of the pages were filled with ads or job listings for inquiring teens, but the front pages most usually had breaking stories of recently captured criminals, which was more inclining to Leone.  

The pattern was subtle at first…invisible to the average mind. A crook would be caught for a petty crime, and then a week later, they’d be released on bail. Nothing super unusual, as some offenses weren’t worth an entire jail sentence. But then the crimes got more serious; multiple offense DUI’s, negligent crashes, assault of an officer, domestic violence in broad daylight. It shocked Leone to the point of disturbance, seeing such dangerous thugs be let off with nothing more than a fine or community service. The more his suspicion grew, the closer he paid attention to the words on the pages.  

Especially when he saw the face of that moped prick on the front cover two days ago. He’d worked his ass off tracking the guy down, using his license plate to lead him right to his disgusting downtown apartment, only satisfied when he had the cuffs slapped over his wrists, and was shoving him into the back of his car. Leone thought, ‘Surely they won’t let this one get away.’ Leone had even discovered the man had a laundry list of past crimes—more robbery, and fraud—so surely, surely the court would finally put him behind bars… 

And yet here he is. Smack dab in the middle of this morning's issue, smirking at the camera with his middle finger propped up, walking right out of the station. The text above reads in bold letters; “Issac, Released on Bail of 70 million Lire.” 

He’d read the sentence at least 10 times over, each time feeling his blood boil more and more, nearly crushing his breakfast in the process. This was no coincidence. It was intention…intention from the inside. Each and every one of these jackasses were being let go with nothing more than a slap on the wrist, regardless of how severe their actions. And the one thing they all had in common? ‘Released on Bail.’ To put it even simpler, money. The law is being lax on these legitimate menaces in favor of being paid off. Money over honor.  

Sure, it was possible Leone was getting a little beside himself with this theory, but it all seemed plausible when he considers the evidence staring back at him in this very moment. The problem was, if it did happen to be true, what was he going to do about it? Of that he was still unsure. 

He is essentially powerless in this matter, which only frustrated him more. Being an officer didn’t miraculously give him the right to dictate what went down in the court, and he couldn’t just swoop in and be some kind of justice obsessed freak demanding everyone to take crime more seriously. It’s entirely possible that there are hundreds, maybe thousands of people in on this, who are keeping the court’s actions under wraps, perhaps in order to get a cut of their profits. If that was the case, Leone would have a hard time getting anyone on his side to fight his cause.  

The chances of him being able to stop the leaking corruption were…zero to none.  

Every revelation he came to just made him feel even more dejected…this is not the career he signed up for. He thought he was meant to help people, but even if he tried, the assailants would just be able to slip right through the cracks. That explained the hostility and backlash from the citizens...how were they meant to trust the police when half of the criminals they detained were getting off scotch free?  

‘Should I…give up?’ 

Just as Leone takes a pensive bite out his muffin, there’s a sudden knock on the wall of his cubicle, causing him to quickly snap out of his thoughts, eyes darting to the source of the sound and almost choking. He blinks at the sight of...some stranger. 

“Uh-sorry to interrupt, sir...are you Officer Abbacchio?” Says an ardent voice. Leone continues to stare at the unfamiliar figure, cringing a little at being called ‘sir,’ especially considering the guy looks the same age as him. He has a friendly looking face, round at the cheeks with the slightest sharpness to his jaw. Forest green eyes with speckles of grey in the mix..curly brown hair tucked beneath his hat, with just one swirled strand resting to the left of his nose. 

The more Leone sits there silently, the more the guy’s smile drops, until he’s left standing there awkwardly, tugging his hat to the side. 

Leone clears his throat, swallowing down his chunk of food before finally replying, overcoming his initial embarrassment at being caught spacing out. “..Yes, I am...Do I know you?” He doesn’t mean to sound rude, but he wasn’t really looking to converse.  

The guy’s smile returns and he shakes his head, standing up a little straighter. “No, sir. I’m a new hire. Officer Vittorio Ricci.” He steps to the side, now standing perpendicular with Leone’s chair, and politely sticks out his hand.  

Leone looks down at it for a long moment before setting down his muffin and standing up, scratching the back of his neck with one hand while the other reaches to shake Vittorio’s hand. “Right…how can I help you?” 

“Oh, yes-! Well, as I said, I’m a new hire, and I’ve been assigned as your official patrol partner.” He nods at his own words, setting his hands on his hips proudly. 

Leone’s eyes widen, and he suddenly prays he hasn’t come off as too cold or prickly. “..I see. That’s..that’s great. Uh…welcome to the team.” Even though Jacovelli had mentioned it before, he wasn’t really expecting to get a partner so soon.  

“Thank you, sir!” Vittorio smiles brightly. 

“-Please, drop the sir…I’m not that old.” Leone murmurs, a light, bashful blush appearing on Vittorio’s cheeks as he gives a quiet apology. “I assume you just got out of training then? Or did you come from a different district?”  

“A different district. I’ve been working this job for about two years now, started out in Arenella.” He explains.  

Leone hums. “You’re older than me, then.” Though, he doesn’t look a day over 18. “Didn’t they tell you anything about me?”  

Vittorio shakes his head apologetically. “I’m afraid not...only your name, badge number, and the location of your desk. I suppose they didn’t want any bias or room for complaint.”  

“..I guess that’s fair.” Not like there would be much to tell beyond that anyways, so Leone couldn’t be offended.  

“Don’t fret! I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted, yes?”  

Leone wasn’t so sure about that…the prospect of having to become friends with his coworker was honestly a little frightening. He wasn’t blessed with the enthusiasm and willingness that it takes to be congenial, one of the reasons why he hardly made friends in the past. Yet, he had to respect Vittorio’s determination to create a comfortable situation for the both of them.  

So, he puts on a little smile and nods. “Right, of course.” Almost immediately, they fall back into a painful silence. Leone clears his throat yet again and sits back down in his chair, scooting it over some to make space. “Well, uh…I’m not on patrol today, but I guess I could show you some of the reports I’ve been assigned and get you caught up..?” He motions vaguely to his computer screen. 

Vittorio seems motivated by this invitation, and shuffles into the space created for him, already prepared to get to work. “How smart..I’d appreciate that.”  

“Sure thing…”  

As Leone clicked into his files, he thinks ‘this isn’t so bad.’ In fact, he thinks he’s gotten lucky. Even though things were a little untimely and stiff at first, Vittorio actually seemed like a decent guy. He could’ve been stuck with Jacovelli, for Christs sake. Either way, this is what he asked for—a partner to help him with the hellish duty of patrolling—and boy is he grateful.  

His thoughts from earlier were still at the back of his mind…and he still isn’t sure of the answer to them. Should he abandon this job now, he’ll have gone through all of this for nothing. So..maybe he’ll hold on for just a little longer.  He wants to hold onto his hope until the string is down to its very last fiber... 

————— 

“Say, Abbacchio…d’you want to be a detective someday?”  

Leone lifts his face carefully from where he’d been staring down at the shot glass in front of him, the edge tinted with the imprint of his purple lipstick, arching his eyebrow curiously in Vittorio’s direction.  

He isn’t sure if he hears him correctly, with how loud this bar has become the later the night has trudged on. There are people squeezed into every available table, and those who can’t snag a seat at the bar have simply chosen to stand around it, knocking against others’ backs and shoulders. The overhanging lights buries everything in a khaki blanket, providing a feeling of mutual comfort and age. Sounds of clinking glass and chittering voices bounce off of every wall, impairing conversation to the point where Leone isn’t sure how anyone is managing one in the first place.  

Leone wasn’t particularly fond of alcohol besides the occasional white wine, but on account of trying to ease into partnership, Leone had agreed to have a drink with Vittorio on this fateful Friday at some cheap bar that was “the best in Arenella,” according to Vittorio.  He found humor in the fact that Vittorio was so eager to show off his hometown’s bar, when upon arrival it was really nothing out of the ordinary. It did seem to get good traction though, so he could at least give it points there.  

By now, they were four shots of vodka deep, and it seemed like Vittorio was more than a lightweight, one button of his polo shirt already untucked from its rightful slot, and his cheeks a pink hue. Leone himself wasn’t feeling overtly tipsy, but he was certain he’d be right behind Vittorio sooner or later. 

“..What kind of question is that?”  

“Well y’know, I keep seein’ your face shoved into those newspapers and archives every morning, taking notes on them and whatnot like you’re searchin’ for somethin’.” Vittorio leans his elbow onto the bar top, careful not to nudge the woman next to him in the process.  

Leone’s gaze drifts down to the wooden counter again, his finger picking at a crack he finds there. It was true, for the most part, that Leone had dove into a subtle obsession with his previous observations. He was attempting to connect the dots, narrow down everyone involved in this larger scheme of corruption, specifically the judges and lawyers, so that he can at least attempt to make a probable case for the Chief. Yet, the more he surveyed the situation, the less he saw room for a solution. It was like moving in retrograde. The connections ran so deep within the organization that it would’ve been more challenging to find out who wasn’t a sellout than who was.  

The thought of being a detective had never crossed his mind until now…yet it seemed so appealing. As a detective, he would have access to so much more information and resources—possible evidence that was being withheld from common patrol officers. Being able to conduct a formal investigation on the matter would potentially yield more promising results, especially if he’d be able to focus the entirety of his attention on the matter. But would that really be enough to end it all for good? He’s still only one man. One, versus a thousand criminals and officers in cahoots. 

“It’s nothing like that…just trying to keep up with the social climate. Besides, I wouldn’t even know where to start with becoming one.” He admits reclusively.  

Vittorio frowns, leaning his face into his palm. “Well, that’s no reason to write it off. I know plenty of people who could get you started. I think you’d be good at it.”  

Leone huffs humorlessly. “You don’t even know me..” He murmurs, voice sounding more pathetic than intended.  

Theres a moment of silence between the two of them, and Leone almost thinks Vittorio’s up and left, but when he lifts his head to look in his direction, Vittorio’s determined eyes are staring back him, clearer than they should be, and almost intimidating.  

“..Ever heard of intuition? You’re right, I don’t know you all that well, but don’t count yourself out. ‘Dunno what it is, but you strike me as the kind of guy who fights tirelessly for what he believes in. That’s the kind of dedication detectives need. Think of what would happen if every investigator dropped a case just ‘cause it got too rough for ‘em.” The sudden acerbic shift in Vittorio’s tone throws Leone for a loop, his eyes wide as he regards every word.  

He doesn’t remember the last time someone had such unwavering faith in him…he isn’t sure if he should feel honored or uncomfortable.  

“Well, am I right, or what?” Vittorio’s too-big smile returns, wiping away the stern tension.  

Leone gives a short, disbelieving chuckle, intrigued by Vittorio’s nature. “Yeah…yeah I guess you’re right..” He even cracks a gentle smile. “..I’ll consider it.”  

Vittorio sighs dramatically with a ‘phew’, as if he were the one under pressure, sitting up straight and putting a hand on Leone’s shoulder. “For a second I totally thought you were gonna tell me off!”  

Leone shakes his head, flagging down the bartender with a slight raise of his hand. “No, of course not…honestly, I needed to hear that.” Realistically, accepting Vittorio’s words was difficult. Leone knew his research was coming up short no matter how much he dug, but having someone else recognize his effort, even unknowingly, was encouraging in some small way.  

“Good then!” Vittorio watches as Leone orders an Aperol Spritz, the vodka not quite suiting his taste buds any longer. “How ‘bout it then, Abbacchio, tell me a bit about yourself.” He pats Leone’s shoulder, then allows his hand to retreat back to the bar counter.  

Leone stiffens, having much preferred to stay on the topic of work than trivial things like his personal life. ‘Bonding,’ he unwillingly reminds himself. “..Well, what do you wanna know?” 

Vittorio thinks to himself for a moment, humming and rapping his nails against the wood beneath them before speaking again. “Where are you from? Got any siblings? What’s your favorite sport? Favorite food? How about your favorite color? Do you like action movies, or horror movies more? Have you ever been overseas—?” Vittorio rats off each question in on speedy breath, and keeps on going before Leone can even get a word in.  

He knows he’s in for a long night.  

————— 

That night, the two of them ended up staying at the bar until 1a.m., Vittorio’s question never ending…Leone doesn’t even know how he managed to make it out alive. He had to take down several more drinks just to keep himself going, the two of them drunk out of their minds by the end of the night.  

He concludes that it was worth it though. When Vittorio wasn’t asking a question, Leone got to ask some of his own, and the more he learned about Vittorio, the more drawn he felt to him. He was a relatively average guy with a younger sister who was in her last year of high school, whom he often visited and spoiled. He was clearly a family man, having gone on a ten-minute tangent about how much he adores his parents, and wants nothing more than to make them proud.  

‘They worked hard to raise me..always loving and understanding. I want to repay them someday.’ He’d said, smiling fondly as he trailed his finger around the rim of his glass.  

It was hard for Leone to not feel bitter towards the display of a healthy relationship between parent and child, but he washed it down as best he could with his citrusy cocktail. He had a foundation of respect for Vittorio nonetheless, seeing how pure of heart he was, not to mention generous. Working with him felt like a privilege now…he figured he might learn a thing or two with him around. Although, he noted to himself he would never let Vittorio take him out drinking again. He woke up the next morning feeling absolutely miserable, and it was a damn miracle he didn’t have to report for duty.  

He would’ve like to take off a week just to recover, but alas, the city never sleeps.  

In fact, the city was more awake now than ever.  

Things around the office began to get more..dire. Almost every day there was a new threat to the citizens of Naples, whether that be large scale robberies, or drug trafficking. Crime was reaching its peak, leading to disgruntled officers starting to complain about being ‘overworked and underpaid.’ Even Leone could attest to that, if the past few weeks were anything to go off of. The Chief seemed unmoved by the griping, though, and only advocated that ‘This is what they all signed up for.’ It was annoying to hear him say it so flippantly, but it was technically the truth.  

When Leone enters the building this morning, he goes through his usual motions; clock in, grab a pastry and a cup of espresso, flip through the newspaper, check on his reports while waiting for Vittorio to arrive, and then head out to their patrol district.  

About halfway through him scrolling through his files, Vittorio pops up in his usual spot in front of Leone’s cubicle, but instead of looking his typical optimistic self, he seems..worried. Leone lifts his eyes away from his computer screen, giving him his attention.  

“Buongiorno, Officer Ricci.” Leone says first after Vittorio doesn’t.  

Vittorio meddles with the curl hanging in front of his left eye, eyebrows tucked. “Buongiorno.” He replies quietly. “I’ve got news from the supervisor.”  

Leone folds his arms across his chest, a small spark of anxiety setting off in him now. “The Supervisor? What is it?” Best to get straight to the point. 

“Well..” Vittorio frowns and shifts the brim of his hat, silence dragging on as he wavers. “…He wants us on night patrol now..” He finally says.  

… 

“That’s it?” Leone raises a brow, more confused by Vittorio’s demeanor now than before. It wasn’t all that surprising, naturally crime at night would experience an uptick in correlation with that of the daytime.  

He huffs and puts his fists on either side of his hips, “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?! Yes, that’s exactly it!” 

“..The hell are you so worked up about? It’s not like we’ve been demoted or something.” Leone restrains a smile at Vittorio’s ridiculously theatrical reaction.  

“Because..-!” He starts, but doesn’t quite finish his sentence.  

Leone snickers and goes back to browsing his computer, index finger picking at the mouse scroll. “You scared of the dark, or something?” He jokes.  

Vittorio is silent.  

Leone’s eyes snap up again, his jaw hanging open. “..You’re kidding, right?” 

Vittorio tugs his hat over his eyes and turns his head away, attempting to conceal his embarrassment. “I’m—I’m not scared of the dark, I’m scared of the city at night.” He explains exasperatedly.  

“Those are the same thing.” 

“No they aren’t-! It’s not like I can’t walk through my house in the dark or whatever…it’s just, when the sun goes down, the streets are so clear, and the only sounds are that of the sewers and coughs from creepy alleyways. The daytime is so much livelier!” 

Leone is struggling to contain his laughter at this point, his hand cuffed over his mouth and his eyes closed. He understood what the guy meant, but seriously, it was perhaps the most childish thing he’d never expect from a guy like him.  

“Oh my..that is quite the dilemma..” 

“You’re not taking this seriously!”  

“Alright alright- relax..” Leone finally gets his giggles to go away with a quick breath. “You seemed fine the other night when we went out, what’s the big deal now?” 

Vittorio rolls his eyes. “That’s different. We were inside a perfectly secure building. This time, we’ll be outside without the protection of any walls.” 

“..Okay, sure. But we’ve got plenty of way to defend ourselves. Plus, it’s not like you’ll be alone.”  Leone leans back in his chair and gestures to himself.  

Vittorio seems to calm a little at this revelation, hooking his arm over the cubicle wall and sighing. “Right, okay…promise you won’t let me get killed?”  

“Jesus, Ricci, you sound like a little girl..you’re a cop for crying out loud-” 

“Just, humor me, alright?” He pouts, which earns him an indulgent smile from Leone. 

“…Fine. I promise I won’t let you get killed.”  

“Hell yeah.” Vittorio puts on a bright grin, fixing his hat and standing up tall, like he’d just had an evil cure cast away from his soul, allowing it to return to its radiant form once more. Leone can do nothing but shake his head, vexed by his coworker's versatile personality yet again.  

————— 

The patrol that evening is absolutely nothing like how Vittorio thought it would be. Since they were stationed in the exact same district as always, Leone felt more assured than anything. These familiar streets were laid out in front of them, the usual patrons having finished their shopping and strolling for the day and retreated to their shelters of solace and peace. There was no longer the exhausting sound of arguments between sisters or spouses, the crying of fussy children, nor the clacking of heeled shoes against the concrete echoing in every step. The scent of cigarettes lingers in the air but holds only half the power it does in the afternoons. If Leone had known it was going to be like this, he would’ve requested to be on night watch months ago.  

There are certainly still a few stragglers roaming about on the sidewalks, illuminated by the foreboding streetlamps infested by moths. Most are people headed towards the apartments a few blocks away, others walking in the direction of the nearest liquor store, despite looking drunk already. Leone is sure to keep an eye on them in particular.  

Vittorio was very obviously on edge, even before they had stepped foot out of the station and remained close to the cruiser for majority of the time they’d been there. Leone still couldn’t believe this was a serious fear of his, but then again it wasn’t that uncommon. Leone figures he’d be scared too if he hyper-fixated on every dark corner or tuned in to the sound of the rats scattering just beyond the potholes.  

“Doin’ alright over there, Ricci?”  Leone asks half sarcastically from where he’s leaning against the hood of the car, head glancing over his shoulder. 

Vittorio turns, leaning an arm on the roof of the car. “Not by a long shot. I feel like I’m gonna piss myself!” 

Leone doesn’t bother resisting his laughter, to which Vittorio rightfully flips him off.  

“We’ve been out here for two hours, and nothing has happened.” 

“The universe wants me to think there’s nothing to fear so that I’ll let my guard down—haven’t you got any survival instincts?!”  

“Oh god, here you go again…you’re acting like a lunatic. Chill out.” 

“I think I’m sick with nerves- “Vittorio clutches his stomach and leans against the car more. “—I need a god damned cigarette...” He groans.  

Leone sighs deeply and pushes himself up, turning around to face him. “I didn’t think you were the kind of guy to smoke.”  

Vittorio shakes his head. “Well-I only resort to it when I’m really nervous, or really angry.” 

‘Understandable.’ Leone thinks. He looks around for a moment, making sure there aren’t any people passing by before he looks to Vittorio again. “..There’s a convenience store down the road, if you really need ‘em that bad. I won’t rat you out or anything, so don’t worry about that.” Leone juts his thumb in the direction behind him, where he knows there’s a little 24-hour shop that sells everything from snacks to beer.  

Vittorio immediately perks up, pupils emboldened at this new proposition. “Awh I—I couldn’t do that..you’d be here all by yourself..” He says, though the interest on his face completely overshadows his attempt at concern.  

“Don’t be ridiculous, nothing’s going to happen in the seven minutes it takes for you to walk to that store and back.” Leone insists. He was trying to be generous for once.  

Vittorio’s lips purse and he looks to be weighing his options here…ultimately giving in with a sly smile. “Abbacchio, have I ever told you I love you?-”  

“Hush and get a move on before I change my mind-!” Leone huffs, pushing him by the shoulders in the direction of the store.  

Vittorio chuckles and does just that, putting some pep in his step as he waves back at Leone. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.”  

“Uh huh.” Leone gives a limp wave in return, watching him scamper off for a minute before re retakes his position at the hood of the car. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he heard those words. Or had he ever heard them at all..? From his mother, maybe, but that was the only time he could recall. Leone feels…happy. Even if Vittorio was only joking, he knew that the relationship they’d built was deeper than anything he’d had in the last few years. He never found himself getting irritated or bored of Vittorio, simply growing more fond for his slightly chaotic, but entertaining behavior every day.  

‘But then of course there was…’ 

Leone freezes and shakes his head. ‘No, that was something entirely different.’ He brings his thumb to his mouth and bites at his nail, jaw pinching. If there was one thing he’d hate to do, it would be to compare his estranged best friend to the one he’d just made. That would just be…cruel. Both to Vittorio and himself.  

He doesn’t have to ruminate it much longer when he begins to hear the sound of voices trailing from around the corner. One is that of an abrasive male, and the other airier and more feminine. The moment the two of them step into sight, Leone immediately senses something is wrong.  

The man walks with a hunched posture, dressed in a ragged sage trench coat with the top buttons undone, revealing spotted tan skin. On his head, he wears a red scarf-wrap that does little to conceal the mess of black hair sticking out of it. He appears rather…unattractive, large bugged out eyes made uncanny by his already shrunken face and cracked lips screaming for a smidge of moisture. He has his arm slung around the hips of a woman at least a foot taller than him. She wears a lavender cardigan with fur at its collar over a skimpy looking white dress, threatening to lift at every step she takes. Her makeup is eccentric and loud, eyelids pasted with purple eyeshadow and lips smeared with an unnecessary amount of red lipstick. She keeps her eyes downturned to the ground, or off to the side—anywhere that the man next to her isn’t. She looks wildly uncomfortable. Leone deduces she can’t be any older than 18.  

He doesn’t even need to hear their conversation to know what’s happening here.  

Prostitution.  

He almost couldn’t believe it…they were walking around so candidly, even with a cop car in clear view. Perhaps the guy’s just an idiot. Either way, he isn’t going to let him walk freely. He mentally prepares himself, hand already reaching for his cuffs.  

As they draw nearer, Leone takes a few steps up to meet them halfway, finally catching their attention and making them stop in their tracks. Neither of them looks phased in the slightest, the woman just giving the man an annoyed look, and he giving her a shrug in return. They exchange a couple of words, something like “I got this, don’t worry..” And “hurry up..”, before the man walks confidently up to Leone.  

“Good evenin’ officer!” He begins, tone piping and pretentious.  

Leone looks right past him and to the woman instead, a stern look cemented onto his features. “May I ask what your relationship is to this man?” 

The woman looks bored, leaning against the light pole nearest to her and beginning to look at the state of her nails, ignoring Leone. ‘The hell?’  

The man pops into Leone’s view again, waving a hand in his face to redirect his gaze back to him. “Hey, hey, that ain’t any of your damn business! What kinda question is that?” He gripes. 

Leone looks down at him, losing his patience. “What are your intentions with this woman?”  

The man smirks wickedly, unbothered by the accusatory stance Leone takes. “The hell does it look like I’m doin’? Obviously, I’m pimpin’ her out!” 

Leone can only be surprised by how openly he admitted to it. Was he begging to get arrested? Leone removes his cuffs from their holster, his other hand reaching out for the man’s shoulder. The man’s eyes fly open, and he quickly jerks backwards, hands up in a surrendering position. “You’re under arrest for sex trafficking.” Leone grits out. 

“Woah, woah!” The man seems more amused than threatened by the sight out the cuffs, evading Leone’s grasp with a stumbling step backwards. “…you know what, you must be new around here, eh officer? Yeah, you’ve got a fresh lookin’ face..”  

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” 

The man barks out a laugh, sounding crazed. “You obviously don’t have an idea of how real business is conducted…” 

‘Real business..? Does he mean-‘ 

“Hey.” The man steps forward again, more smug than ever at the dumbfounded expression Leone wears. “Come on, officer, can’t you let me go just this once?” A crooked grin spans his cheeks. “This chick’s father has got a whole lotta debt…she needs to get the money somehow, ya’know?”  

Leone looks to the woman again. 

“If you let me go, it’ll be no skin off your back, eh? I won’t cause any problems I swear-“ 

“Are you done yet? I’ve got another client waiting and I can’t lose this payout.” The woman chides, still carrying that nonchalant tone. 

“I know, God damn it! Shut up and let me do my thing!” The man quips back gruffly. He huffs before looking to Leone again, smirk returning as he digs into his coat pocket, pulling out something concealed from Leone’s view. He doesn’t understand why, but he can't get himself to move. He can’t get himself to take these cuffs and tighten them in their rightful place around this swine’s wrists.  

He feels something bump against his hand and his eyes drift down slowly…cautiously.  

Nestled in the palm of the man is a wad of cash...at least 2,000 lira. A bribe.  

The man leans into Leone’s ear, breath hot as he whispers. “Be a good pig and look the other way, won’t ya’?” 

Leone’s throat constricts at the words, feeling like he’s been backed into a corner. In just an instant, all of his suspicions about the state of the police department had been proven. That was likely the reason why the two of them were consistently unbothered in the presence of a cop; they’d been in this situation before and knew the exact method to get unstuck—a surefire way to be let off the hook. They didn’t have to fear being caught, because the previous officers had either been bought off, or turned a careless blind eye, and they expected the same from him. He finds himself rationalizing with that mindset all too quickly. His handcuffs return to their holster. In weighing out his options, there is no just way for this situation to end. 

‘Even if I arrest this bastard, all he’ll have to do is flash some more cash to those good for nothing jackasses at the courthouse, and he’ll be out on bail like nothing happened.’ 

He takes a deep breath through his nose.  

‘The only difference here is that he’ll either pay me, or them.’ 

… 

Leone shifts his trembling hand, the bundle of cash reproachfully entering his grasp before being stuffed into the pocket of his slacks.  

The man's expression is grotesque with accomplishment as he pulls away, probably high on the success of his misdeed. He gives Leone a slow look, up and down, before chuckling. “Zealous one, aren’t you? I honestly thought it’d take a little more convincing- “  

“Get lost before I change my damn mind.” Leone practically spits, his voice like gravel, still battling his instincts despite this reality.  

“Hehe..have a good night, sir.” The man says finally, circling around Leone one last time before returning to the young woman’s side, arm slipped around her waist again as he urges her to begin walking, resuming their stroll to whatever business proposals awaited them.  

The second they’ve left his view, Leone’s legs give out, knees buckling as he collapses against the side of his car, the air he breathes in not reaching his lungs. Winded and terrified of himself, he takes his cap off, holding either side of his head between his hands as if that will keep it from splitting in two. He can already feel the hole burning itself into the pocket of his pants, the money there set ablaze with sin and failure, stinging the skin of his thigh and spreading to the rest of his body torturously.  

He’s no better than the others. He doesn’t know why he convinced himself he could be. How could he have been so foolish, propping himself up like some righteous hero? He fears he might break down into tears, one hand clutching his forehead while the other is clutched in a fist, sinking into the roof of the car.  

The sound of whistling in the near distance has Leone lifting his head and reaching for his gun, already on high alert after what just happened. Rather than seeing the scraggly face of another crook though, he sees Vittorio walking calmly down the sidewalk, a lit cigarette stuck between his index and middle finger as a wave of smoke trails behind him. Leone had completely forgotten he was here..how was he meant to face him after that? After he’d knowingly taken a bribe and potentially put residents in even more danger with his complacency?  

“Hey, Abbacchio!” Vittorio’s cheery voice rings out as he nears the car again, a complete contrast to what Leone deserved in this moment. At least he seemed to be doing better now. “Glad to see you’re still alive!” 

Leone tries to recover from his brief meltdown as quick as he can, finding the little strength left in his legs and getting himself standing upright, pulling his hat back over his head and using it to shield his eyes in the process. 

“Same to you...” He murmurs. The scent of smoke wafts into Leone’s face the closer Vittorio gets, until he’s standing right beside him. 

“Thanks again for letting me shoot off for a moment. This is doing wonders for my nervous system.” 

Leone just nods.  

“Anything happen while I was-“ 

“No.” He says immediately, clipped tone making Vittorio’s smile twitch.  

He lifts his hand and places it on Leone’s shoulder, the contact void of any relief. “..You sure nothing happened? You seem..” Vittorio pauses, eyes fixed on his own hand now. “Abbacchio, you’re shaking..”  

Leone hadn’t realized. Even with all the effort of trying to put on this front of normalcy, his body betrayed him. Shit. The last thing he wanted was for Vittorio to know about the incident, let alone how it ended, and he was too on edge to come up with a plausible lie-  

“Ah-I know what happened..” Vittorio hums. Leones heart stops.  

His eyes dart right to Vittorio’s, panicked. “You…you do?” Had he been..watching? Fuck, how could he be so careless? 

“Of course I do, do you take me for some idiot?” 

Leone sputters. “I…Listen I-“ 

“Obviously while I was gone, you realized how spooky it is out here all on your own and got scared shitless! What’d I tell you, huh? This is why you should always believe in your partner.” Vittorio chuckles, now patting Leone’s back like one would a frightened child. Leone doesn’t know how much more emotional whiplash he can handle. He internally cringes at Vittorio’s naivety but also sighs in alleviation.  

“..Right..of course..” He certainly wasn’t going to correct him.  

Vittorio grins and continues patting his back, cigarette hanging from between his lips now. “There, there, don’t worry…Officer Ricci is here to protect you again!” 

…Leone feels disgusted by how badly he wants to smile. After what he’d just done, he’d thought it’d be impossible…but Vittorio always finds a way.  

“..I’ve got something that’ll take your mind off of it, hm?” Vittorio’s hand moves from Leones shoulder and into his own pocket instead, where he draws out the packet of cigarettes he’d just purchased, flipping back its top to reveal two rows of perfect cylinders. “Want one?” He asks, voice lacking the pressure that one might expect from a question like that. 

Leone eyes the rows, taking in the aroma of nicotine surrounding him. With the trajectory of his night so far, having a crutch sounded like heaven, even though he’d never smoked a day in his life, and certainly didn’t see himself starting. Yet still, it called to him. 

“You know what..sure.” He says softly, reaching out and plucking one of the sticks from its crevice. 

Vittorio smiles lightly and digs out his lighter, sparking its flame and setting the end of Leone’s cigarette on fire. The tension and fervor don’t leave him at once, but over the course of their remaining shift, he can at least manage to not let himself fully deteriorate. 

The warmth in his pocket persists. 

Chapter Text

Leone suffered at the hands of his conscience. 

Every night when he closed his eyes, he dreamed. Dreamed of an unreachable place that he’s yet still tethered to. The space was always warm, but also on the brink of a chill, almost like a developing fever, or an incoming tornado. Leone would still be positioned on his back from when he’d laid in bed, but the confusing orientation of the room made it seem as though he were standing up. There was a complete absence of any sound. The space was dark and infinite, but not entirely black, hints of purples and dark blues tangled in the mix. The dream followed the same sequence every time without fail: 

Leone would open his eyes and turn his head to face forward.  

First there was his mother. She’d materialize within a few agonizing seconds and begin approaching him. Looking as pretty as the weeks before she got sick. Leone would already be crying by the time she was directly in front of him, closing his eyes to keep himself from seeing her any longer. The moment she reached out to touch him, Leone was a kid again…four-foot nothing with his hair just past his ears, smooth in the face and holding his Lion plush in the crook of his arm. His mother would stroke his head lovingly for a long moment, before coming to a slow halt. She’d then reach down, and snatch the plush from his hands with animosity, and Leone would only then hear the sound of the fabric being torn, a haunting ripping sound that finally got him to open his eyes.  

But when he looks up to see what she’s doing, or to try and stop her, or to get his voice to work, she’s already gone without a trace; not a clump of cotton left behind.  

Instead, there’s a wooden table. And the smell of coffee. 

A sickly yellow lightbulb hangs over it, just as still as everything else, and emits an irritating buzzing sound. One that he recalls. There’s a book peeled open in the center of the table, accompanied by a navy-colored mug with steam swirling out of it. One chair is set at the table. Another is positioned off to the side, out of the light’s radius, facing away from Leone.  

His father emerges in the same fashion his mother had. 

Leone is himself again. 

His father is dressed in his police uniform; hat pulled all the way over his eyes, covering them. He reaches out to grab the chair in front of him but doesn’t drag it out or move to sit in it. He pauses, and waits, before moving to the other chair instead. His father carefully, almost reluctantly turns the chair around so that they both can see it.  

The lion plush lays toppled on the seat’s surface, no longer torn to shreds but back to its original state. At least from what Leone can see.  

His father grabs the toy by the arm, expressionless as he then holds it in one of his hands.  

Leone quivers as he approaches, the once stationary light now hovering over his father, and drawning nearer. 

The Lion is yet unscathed. 

His father draws a silver lighter from his breast pocket, flicking open its top, and striking the flame to life. He finally lifts his head to Leone, but his eyes are like a blank white sheet. Unseeing.  

With The Lion in one hand and the lighter in the other, he sets its left paw ablaze, to which Leone immediately responds with a chocked gasp of revulsion. Then comes the smell of burning flesh and silent screams, met with zero sympathy or concern.  

Leonardo walks away with the plush still in hand as the fire spreads, climbing up Leone’s arms and turning his fair skin a monstrous dark red, bubbling and boiling as the muscle underneath is exposed. He hollers as his arm is marred, but it falls on deaf ears. Leonardo continues on his path, eventually tossing the burning animal to the floor with disgust, and taking his seat at the table to sip on his coffee while he watches. That scene last for what feels like hours, the flames making it all the way up to the side of his neck-- 

The fire only dies out when he feels a single hand raking through his now long hair from behind, scentless and soundless. Leone’s cries degenerate into soft whines as he’s soothed, his skin returning to normal as if the fire had never been there to begin with. The continued stroking of his hair breaks him down, and he slowly sinks to his knees, and the hand follows him down without stopping for even a millisecond. Leone doesn’t even have the capacity at this point to wonder who it is. 

 The hand sets itself on his left shoulder, and a head lies on the other. He doesn’t look just yet, but he can feel the weight of it. And there’s a gentle pressure that drapes against his back, like a weighted blanket or a warm embrace, further coaxing him into a defenseless state.  

When he finally gains the courage to look at the face rested on him, all he’s presented with is a faceless shadow, murky and black but taking the shape of a human. As terrifying as it would seem at first glance, Leone is more relieved that it isn’t yet another person there to condemn him. And so, he allows himself to sink into the plain darkness, so long as it continues to hold and comfort him. 

The hand that was once on his left shoulder begins moving down his forearm; past his bicep, tickling across his forearm, before pausing upon the back of his hand. Leone instinctively flinches, considering his hand had just gone up in flames moments ago, but the figure presses more firmly against him, as if to assure him that it won’t hurt him.  

And they stay like that for a moment. Utter quiet. 

Just when Leone thinks the horrors have passed, the shadow finally speaks, a nostalgic smile heard in its remark, laced with an accent long forgotten. 

‘It’s gonna’ be alright, Leo.’ 

Those words and that voice always marked the end of the nightmare, Leone springing to sit up in his bed with his chest, neck and face drenched in sweat, his heart beating two times the speed of what was probably healthy. It’d take him three minutes just to get his breath back and the panic to leave his system.  

He was lucky enough if he could fall back asleep, typically unable to with the fear of returning to the same dream and having to experience the terror once more looming over him.  

In the week that the dream had been haunting him, he still couldn’t figure out who exactly that last figure was meant to be. But he knew that if he remembered, he might never sleep again.  

————— 

‘I should have known not to put trust in myself.’ 

The office is quiet at this late hour, most of the other men too exhausted to speak, or waiting for their mid-shift coffee to hit. Leone’s hands are folded in front of him upon his desk as he stares blankly at the computer screen in front of him, eyes drier than playa and lined with dark circles. He had recounted the image of himself taking that wad of cash at least a hundred times since the day it happened.  

The man. 

The woman. 

The doubt. 

The money. 

And the cigarette to blow it all away.  

The dreams he was experiencing only made it all the more difficult to escape from; whether he was asleep or awake, the sin seemed to follow. There was a gaping hole in his integrity as both a human being and an officer…yet his previous assertions about the implications of the bribe still, unfortunately, remained true. 

 ‘Regardless of which way that money would have went, the outcome was definite.’   

What else was he meant to do, besides give in to this twisted reality? Fight back? Run and tell someone who was already bought off? That would be redundant, and he knew it. They all knew it. That’s why they all kept their mouths shut about it and acted like they were actually making a difference in the world. No harm no foul. Leone thought himself an imbecile for believing he could stray from that rigid path.  

His premature sense of justice was shattered just a soon as the pretty panes had been set in place. There was no retrieving or restoring it.  

So, he continued to take the bribes that he was handed…sometimes it was money, other times it was a pack of cigarettes or a bottle of wine. The sheer amount became so damning that he had to give the items their own shoebox, stashed in the highest shelf of his pantry. He hardly touched any of it after he received it, besides the alcohol. Didn’t know if he really wanted it in the first place.  

 The worst part was having to hide it all from Vittorio. There were multiple occasions where Vittorio would get too close to catching him in the act when he’d be ‘checking out an alley for criminals’ for way too long. He had the feeling that if Vittorio ever saw him being the dirty cop that he was, he’d never view him the same. All the effort that he’d finally put into making a friend would be gone just like that.  

What’s more is, the more bribes he took, the more intense his dream became. The tearing sounds became louder, the flames were angrier—and sometimes grew so much in temperature that they flickered a bright blue hue. And of course, he craved the touch of the shadow more deeply, ached for it, only to be wake up once again with his sheets damp. 

He knew it was a sign he should stop. But he couldn’t go back now. 

Each item taken was like a micro dose of poison, tainting every nerve and cell in his body, turning his insides into an odious tract of useless slop. That’s not the kind of thing you can cure by simply abstaining. Quitting his job isn’t an option either—he’s got no back up plan. This has been his only path for his entire life. 

Stuck. He’s stuck. 

… 

The dregs of cigarette smoke invade Leone’s space, and he sluggishly pulls himself together, taking a deep breath before looking up to where the smell is the strongest. Vittorio stands with his chin rested on the ledge of Leone’s cubicle, tired in the face but looking the tiniest bit refreshed after his smoke break.  

“Feeling alright, Ricci?” Leone manages.  

Vittorio lets out a long sigh, but nods anyways, taking his cap off to brush his hair out of his face before setting it back on. “Yeah, better. It just gets so stuffy in here sometimes, y’know?”  

“Sure, I do.”  

He smiles. “Of course you do. You’re reliable like that.” Vittorio chuckles.  

Leone cringes.  

“Well- now that that’s done, I think we ought to get on with our patrol, yeah?—You done with that document you were fixing up?” 

Leone looks down to his computer screen again. The report he’d been tasked with filling out had no more than two words on it. Which were just his first and last name. He swallows, reaching forward to press the monitor’s ‘off’ button and simultaneously getting up from his chair.  

“Yeah, just about. Come on.” He’s already grabbing his keys and making his way towards the door, hoping Vittorio is following. He doesn’t look behind to check. 

Just before he can reach the outside though, another officer, some guy whose name he hadn’t bothered remembering, approaches them frantically. 

“Abbacchio! Ricci!”  

Vittorio grabs Leone’s shoulder before he can exit any further, spinning him around to face the other officer. Vittorio speaks first, taking note of the other’s urgent tone and matching his energy.  

“What? What is it Baldini?!” 

 “There’s been a report of a robbery at a grocery store called ‘Euroesse’ around the block! You two are already headed out, and you’re likely to get there faster than anyone else we’ve got patrolling right now.”   

Leone’s eyes widen. A robbery, at this time of night? He guesses, crime really doesn’t ever sleep.  

“A robbery? Jesus-we’ll get there as soon as we can, alright?” Vittorio is already shoving Leone right back out the door with zero discretion for how he nearly trips and kisses the concrete.  

This would be their first significant assignment in a while.  

————— 

Vittorio was serious about getting there as soon as he possibly could, seeing as they were currently going at least 20—maybe even 30—over the speed limit. Somewhere along the way, it had started pouring down rain unexpectedly, beating down on the roof of the car and feeding into the intensity brewing. Leone had noticed some dense clouds earlier that evening, but he’d have expected a light shower at the most. He swears they almost hydroplane three times in the few minutes it takes them to get there. 

When they pull up to the store, all the lights in the building have gone out. They jump out of their respective seats, barely opening the doors before they’re already being soiled with rainwater. Vittorio pulls out his gun and flashlight, and Leone stutters in doing the same. He can’t believe how unnerved he feels. From the other side of the car, Vittorio does a quick scan of the building with his eyes. It’s shockingly quiet, no sign of an alarm or any screams coming from the inside. Then again, that could also be a fault of the loud rain. 

“Abbacchio- “Vittorio’s commanding voice captures Leone immediately. “You go around the back, alright? I’ll take the front.”  

Leone nods without question, gripping his weapon and flashlight in his hands before turning around and taking off towards the back of the building, whereas Vittorio splits off and goes to the main entrance. His heavy footsteps cause water to splash up from the sidewalk, soaking the rim of his pants and the thick fabric of his socks in a most uncomfortable way. Ignoring this, he waves his flashlight around against the expansive brick wall, trying to find a potential back door. 

The LED surveys the red-brown brick to seemingly no avail, before Leone finally catches a glimpse of a dingy wooden door. He rushes up to it, water slipping down the brim of his hat as he attempts the handle. Locked. Of course. He tries, still, to wriggle and rattle at it, seeing if perhaps it was weakly installed or worn from use. There is a little give, but not enough for him to break with his hands... 

No worries. No door is ever truly locked when you’re an officer. 

He takes a few steps back, giving himself a clear view of the door, before charging towards it and lifting his leg at the last moment, giving it a jab-like kick with a great bit of force in one clean movement. The door swings open, creaking in pain as Leone invites himself in. He puts himself back on high alert, bringing his gun to its ‘ready’ position and placing his flashlight underneath as if he were dual wielding two swords. In his immediate line of sight is nothing more than a couple of stacked cardboard boxes, along with a few picture frames hung on a sad beige wall. Still eerily silent. 

Stepping further in and turning to his right though, Leone sees a figure moving slowly in the dark, attempting to escape through an open window. He whips his flashlight in their direction, revealing the crook at last.  

“Put your hands up! You’re under arrest!” He shouts, getting as firm of a grip on his gun as he can with the moisture still clinging to his palms.  

The figure freezes, cursing under their breath before turning away from the window and putting each of their hands up beside their head. In seeing their face, Leone feels his entire body tense. He’d recognize that ugly mug anywhere. 

The man gives a nervous laugh. “Hey…it’s you, isn’t it? Long time no see, eh?” 

Burgundy head-wrap. Sage green trench coat. Undoubtedly, that’s him. The first man he’d taken a bribe from. Shit. Upon the recognition, Leone begins to sweat profusely. What are the odds?  

“You bastard...” Leone mumbles. 

Said bastard smirks before covering it with a faux frown. “Ah jeez…I can’t believe I could be so clumsy, getting the cops pulled on me like this...” He sighs dramatically. “Hey…could you just..act like you didn’t see me?” 

Leone’s jaw clenches.  

“Please, I’m begging’ ya’, just let me go. I promise I won’t cause any more trouble for you, how’s that sound?” He smiles wide. 

“No—You’re under arrest!” Even if this man did have another bribe, Leone wouldn’t take it. He can only allow so much grace for one person-especially when now he’s gone and done something as serious as this. That’s what he tells himself, anyways. He tries to stand his ground, the gun slipping in his hand.  

The man is displeased by Leone doubling down, his expression turning sour for the briefest second. “Think this over carefully, why don’t you?” A sinister grin begins taking shape on his lips. “If you arrest me, I’ll simply tell them you took a bribe from me.”  

Leone flinches. Blackmail. That’s no good. Even if half the department was in on the bribe taking, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t outwardly object any others who did. I was all about control and appearances. He was sure to be fired. And so, he hesitates. Stuck, yet again. Shit. He begins lowering his gun. What’s one more bribe? He already knew it wouldn’t make a difference…better to just get it over with now and wallow about it later.  

Just as his gun is tilted almost directly at the ground, head turned away from the criminal, he hears footsteps rushing towards him from his left. Everything that follows was the beginning of his living hell.  

He hardly hears the words that come from Vittorio’s mouth.  

“Abbacchio!! He’s got a pistol!” Comes a thunderous shout.  

Leone’s eyes flash when he looks up to see the criminal pointing a handgun right at his face, finger already tugging at the trigger. Leone takes a mere breath and it’s all over. 

Vittorio jumps in front of him, knocking him back against the wooden door and sending his flashlight awry, the sound of two overlapping gunshots echoes against the walls of the grocery store, even leaking out into the alley, barely stifled by the rain. Two bodies tumble to the ground. The criminal hunched over, grabbing at his wound. Vittorio laid flat on his back. Leone is the only one left standing. Panting. Petrified. Pale.  

The last thing to hit the floor is Leone’s cap. Facing right-side-up at the foot of Vittorio’s body. Unmoving. If it weren’t for the pool of blood crawling towards the toes of his shoes, he would’ve thought time stopped. In fact, he wished it had. Yet the crimson keeps inching forward, plastering the linoleum with grief and valiant effort deemed meaningless.  

In wake of the silence, Leone gathers the strength in his lungs to let out a crude scream, far surpassing the volume of the previous gunshots. It devolves into a woeful, grating sob as he slides to the floor, shaking violently, curled up against the door as if being any closer to Vittorio’s lifeless body will kill him all over again.  

He hardly minds the criminal even in all his complaining, knowing he won’t be able to escape with the pain he’s probably experiencing. Not that Leone thinks he’d be chasing after him any ways. He keeps his attention solely on Vittorio, watching with dread as the lively green color drains from his eyes, pupils still blown from their final sight. Mouth agape from a gasp of air, or perhaps a delayed scream. No longer was it the source of that radiant smile he had learned to trust. And never again would it be as such. 

Vittorio is dead.  

Vittorio Ricci is dead. 

Chapter Text

The Lion.  

An embodiment of courage, royalty, and unyielding strength. The imposing image of protection; massive bodies, brutal claws, sharp teeth. Equip with fierce confidence…and the inner workings of leadership. Wisdom and justice. The essence of the anointed one. 

*** 

Winter of 2000. Rione Alto, Naples 

Those were the words that had begun seeping into his nightmares, uttered by the droning voice of his father.  

Bullshit.  

All of that was a meaningless provenance made to keep him in line. Made to keep him in the shadow of another.  Abbacchio couldn’t protect shit. Not his mom. Not his thoughts and feelings. Not his job. Not his police partner. 

Not even himself.  

It wasn’t in his nature, no matter how hard they’d tried to hammer it into him. Wrap him in expectations, tangle his legs in it, shield his eyes with it, and then push him, expecting him to still be able to run. He’d always stumble, fall short. Especially now, with no one to help him up.  

He resented those who ever did. Those who were naive enough to grab him by the arm and get him to keep walking, injecting their faith into a faulty vessel. They were the only reason he continuously failed. Had they given up on him, like they should’ve, he would only have to experience the consequences of his loss maybe once. Instead, he’s been forced to bear failures thrashings time and time again, beating his face over and over until the flesh is split and the bone is exposed, brittle and giving in to the pressure.  

Justice was no more. Courage was a sham. Confidence was a joke.  

He allowed his dreams to torment him from then on, even in their increased brutality. Vittorio would now show up, laughing and unsuspecting, before Abbacchio was shown his fate in literal slow motion, watching the bullet hole open in his abdomen inch by inch, accompanied by the sound of the gunshot itself. Abbacchio stopped fighting against the harsh words, became numb to the flames, familiarized himself with the timing of the ‘BANG!’. He knew this was where he was meant to be. A personal hell. 

If anything, he felt he should be grateful, for the space in his dreams was almost a refuge in comparison to his new reality.  

After Vittorio died, he lost everything. The crooked man that shot him was taken into custody, and immediately confessed to the police that Abbacchio had been taking bribes. It became a huge story after a journalist caught wind of the news, plastering Leone all over the city as a ‘vile disgrace’ and a ‘dirty cop,’ especially since his actions had in turn gotten another man killed. Just as he thought, this didn’t blow over well with the Chief, and less than three days after the incident he was called in and fired on the spot.  

He could have fought. He could have revealed all he knew about how he wasn’t the only one taking bribes and dragged them all down with him. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Didn’t have the energy or desire to do so.  

He didn’t grieve the loss of his job, it meant nothing. He didn’t deserve to be in that position in the first place, it was a relief to get out. But now he had no source of income. No one to turn to—certainly not his father. He was sure he had seen the news already. His father would spare him no sympathy. He didn’t want it.  

The first thing he did after being fired was flee. He rushed into his apartment, the one he’d been so proud of months ago, grabbed his stash of money and booze, one t-shirt, one pair of shorts, and his wallet. And he disappeared. He had no idea where he was going, but on that first day he found himself slumped against the wall of a tight alley, too exhausted from aimlessly wandering to keep on his feet. He slept there for exactly two nights before he was up again, searching for another place to hide. And when he did wake up, he found coins tossed at his feet, passerby’s thinking he was a homeless beggar. He supposed he was, now.  

On the third day, he stumbled upon an abandoned looking apartment complex. The brick was overgrown with thick green vines that wrapped even along the back of the building, some slinking down into the concrete and breaking its surface. The aura surrounding it was that of shame and quietude, maybe even consternation. The windows that stretched up along the front of the building were all boarded by wooden planks, not a curtain in sight, some of the windowpanes fractured or boring holes the size of an average rock. The kind of place no one would ever willingly step into. But he did anyways. 

The inside of the complex was dark and almost completely free of any furniture, save for the ‘front desk; to his right, and a dusty couch a few feet away set behind a coffee table decorated with cigarette ash and bundles of trash. There were no welcoming decorations to make the place feel like home, unless the holes in the drywall counted. The place smelled like soiled mothballs, gasoline and expired vegetables all at the same time, gross enough for Abbacchio to discreetly dry heave and cover his nose with his shirt as quickly as possible. There was a quiet dripping sound echoing from somewhere in the distance, which he reckoned was a sign of leaky pipes. That could explain the smell. 

Against the wall near the couch lay a young woman, curled up against a flat piece of plastic tarp and seldom covered by a patchy blanket. She used a balled-up jacket as her pillow, sure to cause aches in her waking. He noticed something else, too. A small head peeking from the blanket, facing towards her, finding warmth in her chest. A child. Abbacchio looked away. 

Sitting at the front desk was a man of at least 70 years old, balding at the top of his head, only one eye where there were meant to be two. All skin and bones, and clearly not an ounce of energy in his system, if his half-dead posture was anything to go off of, mouth hung open wide enough for an insect to crawl inside. The only reason Abbacchio knew he was alive was because of the slight rise and fall of his shoulders every few seconds, slow and labored. Not like he could judge…he was sure he looked worse. He shifted his box of belongings to his other hip, arms growing tired, and finally spoke; 

“Got any rooms for rent?”  

For a moment he thought he hadn’t spoke at all, as the man made no movements, and remained silent for several seconds onward. Abbacchio was just about to ask again when the man lifted his head. 

‘The hell do you think?’ The man strained, throwing his arm up as if to say ‘look at this place,’ though lacking the strength to keep it up for very long. 

Abbacchio said nothing more, opening his little box to pull out a couple thousand lire, before sliding it onto the counter in front of the man, and walking away. 

He soon navigated his way to a hazardous looking elevator, the call button flickering on and off, metal doors on the cusp of withering away from rust damage. He winded up taking the stairs after all, pushing past the weakness in his legs. He was able to get himself to the fourth floor before he felt he was going to collapse, and just hoped there was an open space for him there. He was sure there were plenty of people just like him slouching about this place, so the chances of him scoring a room might be slim.  

As he went down the hall, he checked every door, subjecting his hands to more grime and bacteria along the way, before he finally came upon an unlocked door. He looked up at its number. 

‘410’ 

The knob twisted and he found himself on the other side of the door, only able to be locked from the inside. Cheap. As if things couldn’t get worse, the smell of mold infiltrated his airways, old mold that could kill with mere exposure. He was glad he hadn’t eaten, as he could imagine he’d have puked up his entire stomach by now.  

If it weren’t for all the grime and health code violations though, the place had the potential to be something comfortable. There was a kitchenette to the left of the front door, equip with a white refrigerator, a combined stove-oven littered with crumbs, and a sink missing a faucet handle. Beyond the kitchen was a rather spacious living room, a balcony door at its center, but inaccessible due to the planks. Two other doors remained, one of which was a cluttered bathroom that Abbacchio expected to be dirtier, and finally a bedroom which unfortunately did meet his expectations. 

On the floor was a single mattress, covered in stains of various shapes and colors, dried up but surely never put under a hot towel or some chemicals. No bed frame in sight. There was a built-in closet on the adjacent wall to where he was standing, which he cautiously opened, only finding some crumpled grocery bags and a duffel with nothing inside. There was also a box TV in the corner, coated in a layer of dust. Setting his things down next to the mattress, he went and crouched down in front of it, pressing some buttons to see if it would turn on. And it did, except it would black out every five seconds, and there was no remote, so he had to manually change the channels; at the very least it was something to keep him occupied.  

He fully sat in front of the TV, turning and reaching behind him to the box of bribes, fishing out a bottle of Falanghina. However, in his scrambling from his previous apartment, he hadn’t thought to bring along his corkscrew. Damn it all. He pushed himself back up to his feet and went into the filthy kitchen, roughly pulling open the counter drawers, fanning through old coupons, random pens, coins and forgotten silverware. No corkscrew in sight. He settled for a fork. 

Back to the desolate bedroom. Back down with his legs crossed one over the other, shoes off this time. Bottle in hand. The fork stabs in, the cork comes out.  

As he brought the bottle to his lips, he took one last look around.  

He drank until the TV program went static. 

————— 

The addiction festered so quickly, Abbacchio wouldn’t have been able to catch it if he tried.  

There was hardly any ‘easing into it.’ He had it at his disposal 24/7, at least six bottles left over from what he was able to take from his apartment. He developed an almost infantile attachment to the liquor. He’d have half a bottle per day, nursing his sorrows with whites and reds, consuming until the smell of the mold disappeared, or the lines of the TV stopped shifting to those faces he tried so hard to get away from. He hadn’t known the power of alcohol until now.  

It grew worse when he began to build a tolerance. Half a bottle wasn’t enough to ward the thoughts off anymore. He would wake up with the bottle in his grasp and fall asleep with it in the same exact spot. Half a bottle became one full bottle. By the end of the week, he was down to one. He didn’t let a single drop go to waste.  

Abbacchio would use all the money that he gained in bribes to fuel his blossoming addiction. It was ironic, in that way. The very thing that had led him to ruin was now driving him even further into the ground. He knew he deserved that kind of mockery. He rarely used the money to buy himself food, and even when he did, he was sure to spend as little as possible so that the rest could be used on wine. Often he was too drunk to even remember when the last time he’d eaten was, but figured the liquid in his stomach was enough to keep him afloat anyways. Days blended, disorienting him beyond repair, and keeping him oblivious. 

The alcohol, though, could still only do so much. It only shielded him when he was awake. The vicious dreams continued, unsurprisingly, which caused him a heap of self-contradiction. On one hand, he wanted to submit to his dreams. On the other hand, it was torture, and one of the reasons he drank so much. Even more conflictingly, his excessive drinking resulted in him blacking out more often than not—-yet his body was fighting against the dreaded dreams with insomnia. Most nights, or even afternoons, he’d fall asleep at random, only to wake up 20-30 minutes later. He couldn’t sleep- but he wanted to -but he also didn’t want to- but he had no choice because of the alcohol-…. a disturbing cycle that was impenetrable.  

He was in limbo.  

Abbacchio watched himself deteriorate over the course of a month. He mustered the strength to look in the mirror one day, regretting it soon after. Tears streamed down his face as his gaze trailed over himself; permanent crescents of purple and black beneath his waterline, cheeks flat and caving in, lips dried and split in places he hadn’t noticed, muscle mass non-existent. His hair had grown down to his armpits, oily and untamed. He hadn’t showered in…. well, who knows how long. He was most surprised to see facial hair growing along his jaw and upper lip. He used to pride himself on his clean, professional appearance.  

He had lost himself entirely.  

Wiping the tears from his face with a shaky hand, he flicked the bathroom light off and went to lay down, mouth wrapped around another bottle. 

Ran out of energy to cry. 

Ran out of power to think. 

————— 

February 1st, 2000

Today he’s drunk by 5pm.  

Once again, Abbacchio is perched in front of the TV, lying on his side with his face against the mattress that seemed to grow dirtier with his presence, dressed in only a ragged pair of boxers. A shitty detective show is on, and he huffs out breaths of laughter every so often at nothing in particular, even with his heart aching in his chest. A puddle of vomit spreads out on the hardwood in front of him, as he couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time. He barely tried. He’s numb to the putrid smell, as it mixes in with the others around him anyways.  

He reaches his arm out to reach for the bottle he’d been working on, only to find it empty.  

‘Shit.’ 

Another one of those days. 

He was enjoying his show. He did not want to go outside. But how could he enjoy anything without a little beverage to support him?; it was impossible. He takes in a sharp, pained breath as he pushes himself up into a seated position, most of his limbs having lost sensation from how long he’d been motionless. He avoids the sight of his weak legs as he grabs his shoebox of things, flipping the top open and rubbing at his sore eyes.  

The money was steadily dwindling. The neat stacks he had made before everything were nowhere near their original beauty, now standing no taller than a few sheets of printer paper. He isn’t sure what he’ll do when he uses up that last dollar, but that isn’t what he’s worried about right now anyways. He takes a 10,000 Lira and puts it between his teeth before searching around the room for some clean clothes…or something equivalent. He settles on a long-sleeve black shirt he’d stolen from another resident, and the grey shorts he brought from his old apartment.  

. . . 

He surprises himself by making it down the stairs in one piece, whereas he usually suffered at least one new scratch or unruly gash. The main floor is as hopeless as usual, though with more refugees strewn about than normal, as well as more coughing and groaning. Must be the result of the changing seasons, he deduces.  

Abbacchio slowly stumbles to the front door, turning a brief eye to those in the foyer before stepping outside. It’s just his luck that it’s pouring down rain. The thin shirt he’s wearing instantly becomes 10 times heavier, packed with rainwater that covers him head to toe. The winter chill doesn’t make it any better, a freezing breeze weaving through the gaps of fabric and sending a violent shiver up his spine that quickly spreads to the rest of his body. The sky is the color of stone, blocking the sun completely and casting the region in an inky glare, almost as if it were nighttime. 

He moves forward nonetheless, even as the storm raged on and threatened to sweep him off his feet. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wishes he had an umbrella, but at the forefront he’s only hoping that the money in his pocket isn’t soaked to the point of uselessness.  

He finds relief several minutes later when he reaches the liquor store, the clerk at the counter recognizing him with an equally sympathetic and grim expression. Even in noticing Abbacchio is already drunk, he still sells him four bottles of cheap wine, and a bottle of whiskey. Turning a blind eye. Enabling. It wasn’t his business anyways, was it? Not like Abbacchio was screaming for help.  

Abbacchio thanks the clerk with a limp, unconscious smile, carrying the brown paper bag of bottles in one arm while already unscrewing the cap of one, holding it just below his chin as he makes his way back onto the flooding streets. Thankfully the winds have calmed, but the rain remains falling, slipping down his face, into his mouth as he turns his head up to take that first, blissful sip. Eyes closed, the world fades from around him, leaving only the sound of water beating against steel overhangs and the cobblestone beneath him. 

The rain…reminds him.  

Reminds him of that day. 

. . . 

The LED sign above him, reading ‘Euroesse,’ is shut off entirely. Not even a flicker of life.  

The tragedy must have put them out of business, as the building has obviously been left unattended, bedazzled with graffiti and boarded windows. Unsurprising. He goes up to the front doors, trying his hand at the knobs, only for it to be locked, or perhaps jammed.  

He doesn’t even know why he’s here…there was nothing left here for him. 

He suddenly feels a burst of pain starting to pound at his head, and he winces, leaning against the door in front of him to keep from falling. Another sip of alcohol gets it to calm.  

As it passes, he travels around the back of the building instead…almost retracing the steps he had once taken, this time much slower…heavier…subdued. The water doesn’t jump up at his ankles, or seep into his cotton socks…it’s still, this time around.  

The back door is wide open and likely has been since he forced it open that night. No use fixing up something soon to be left behind anyways. Abbacchio sets down his paper bag next to the wall, unintentionally dunking it in a puddle, but leaving it there, nevertheless. He takes a step forward, not yet breaching the inside of the building yet. He can feel his heart…thrumming—really feel it—not just the dull buzz that he’d grown used to recently. Sweat begins gathering on his face. This feeling of...trepidation encompasses him, and everything goes stagnant for a horrifying minute. 

His body trembles as he forces another foot forward, taking another swig to keep himself in ‘control’, and leaning on the door to keep himself upright. In the small corridor of the store’s back entrance, he see’s everything playing out in front of him in plain detail. His flashlight catching the criminal and the dust particles in the air…his pistol slipping in his grasp from the rain...the exact moment he resigned as a cop and a human…Vittorio’s shout— 

Abbacchio chokes on the air and falls to his knees, hands braced on the tile to keep him from smashing his face in but wobbling from a lack of strength. The wine, having slipped from his hand, hits the ground and shatters on impact, burgundy liquid spilling, and glass shards sent everywhere. His visions blurs, waning between two realties, where the pool of wine becomes a pool of blood, and the image of green eyes is reflected in the pine-colored glass.  

Vittorio lies beneath him; hat still screwed onto his head dutifully as his skin turns pale. Warmth still radiating from his cheeks. 

 . . . 

Glass crunches beneath Abbacchio’s palms as they tighten into fists, breaking his skin. The pain doesn’t register. 

He wishes so deeply that he could just…rewind. To see Vittorio standing there one last time. To tell him he’s sorry for all he’s done...even the things he never knew about. To tell him he didn’t deserve this. To save him. He wishes he could’ve seen the pistol in the crook's waistband. Shoved Vittorio out of the way instead of the other way around-take the bullet that belonged to him.  

He wonders what it would’ve been like...if it had been him instead of Vittorio.  

He wonders what Vittorio is doing in Heaven—he was surely there.  

Mostly, he wonders why he hasn’t joined him yet.  

Suicide had barely crossed his mind. He hadn’t thought it an option; what’s a better punishment than living with the burn of your sin for the rest of your life? The torment was bestowed upon him for a reason…But still, he wonders what it would be like. To be dead. To feel the cogs of life stop churning, and give in to ascension. He wondered; Would God truly forgive him? Accept him as his son, and allow him to exist in eternal benevolence? Or would all the holes in his wings be too vast to repair…a featherless angel unable to make his way to the gates in the first place? Damned to purgatory or worse.  

Would he be looking at Vittorio, or up to him? 

He thinks he might find out soon. Alcohol poisoning would catch up with him. Could be dead by the end of February. Whenever God decided, was fine. 

Abbacchio gathers himself off the floor, the image of Vittorio gone as he wipes the glass from his palms, subsequently smearing his own blood on his shorts. The moment of reminisce and pathetic clarity was over, and he wanted nothing but to return home and watch TV, to go back to partial existence. He exits the building still with a shaky gait, disappointed to see his paper bag half melted after becoming too soggy. He spits down at it and grumbles as he takes the four remaining bottles into his arms one by one, cradling them safely and making his way back through the narrow alley.  

The total exhaustion he feels causes him to sway from wall to wall as he trudges on, the cobblestone seeming to twist and turn into irregular shapes, trying to confuse him and keep him from his precious TV. He doesn’t allow himself to be deterred though, focusing as much as he can on each individual stone and using it as a guide…one after the other, and then the other, and one after that… 

He finally comes to the head of the alleyway, streetlights in view again as he braces against the brick wall to catch his breath. His vision overlaps, and for a fleeting second, the stones look to have taken the form of two feet—two decadent leather dress shoes to be exact, with some sort of gold detailing on the sides…gold? He takes another slow breath and tries to focus again, this time returning his view to normal. It is--...a pair of shoes. His eyes follow them up from where they’re planted, seeing where they connect to white pants with black, tear-like spots, the pattern drawing all the way up until he can see the person who wears them.  

Across the street stands a young-looking man, with jet black hair that stops and tapers in at his ears, complete with straight bangs across his forehead. Two ovular golden pins are clipped at the intersection of his bangs and loose hair. Shorter than himself, but still taller than the average male. He wears a peculiar outfit, his top having that same fabric as his pants, though adorned with large zipper tabs and tracks, and the center of his chest exposed by a heart shaped cutout which reveals an intricate, almost lace-y tattoo that spans across his pectorals. Oddly exposed. 

But Abbacchio doesn’t linger on any of that. He’s hooked by the man’s eyes…a mysteriously bright navy blue, evoking an immediate sense of serenity. And trust. 

The man holds an umbrella over himself, the rain rolling clean off its ledges and keeping his appearance pristine. They’re complete opposites. 

“Your name is Abbacchio, right?” In comes this mild voice that makes him question if he’s face to face with Heaven itself. Has he just died?  

He swallows. Could this man be a reporter, trying to get a scoop?…Unlikely, since he carries nothing but his umbrella. Could he be a citizen looking to shun him? No...the look on his face shows no hostility. Abbacchio nods, liquor bottles shifting in his arms. The man smiles. Smiles.  

“My name is Bruno Bucciarati. Would you walk with me for a moment?” 

A short breeze passes by. Abbacchio nods. 

————— 

By 8pm, he’s sat in a restaurant called ‘Libeccio.’ One of the waiters had given him a towel to dry off with, but it did little to absorb the sheer amount of water dripping from his clothes and onto the floor. Bruno insisted that it was nothing to worry about, but he felt uncomfortable at the thought of making other people clean up after him. Especially in such a nice-looking restaurant; sand-colored walls with traditional brown trim, elegant pillars stretching up to the ceiling between archways, mahogany armchairs accented with red cushions, topped with the smell of delicious food. 

Abbacchio feels out of place. 

They’d sat for a while in silence, besides when Bruno was talking to the waiter. Moments ago, said waiter had brought out a fresh pan of Margherita Pizza, the intense aroma of tomatoes, basil, and garlic making him clutch his stomach. He was hungry to the point of severe pain, yet he still hesitated to take a slice. 

Bruno watches him carefully from the other side of the table, one leg hiked over the other and hands folded in his lap. 

“You look famished. Please, eat.” Bruno speaks gently once more, motioning towards the pizza. 

“…are you sure?” 

Bruno says nothing, only giving an earnest look that he barely had to manipulate his face into. Abbacchio shuts up and reaches for a piece.  

Silence comesagain as Abbacchio eats, one, two, three slices, gorging himself. His tastebuds were bursting with excitement, having tasted nothing but fermented grape and grain for several days on end. The minute he went to grab his fourth slice, he shuddered at the abrupt development of a stomach cramp.  

“Relax and slow down. It’s not going anywhere.” Bruno commands warmly.  

Can’t argue with that. He holds off on that fourth piece, leaning back in his chair instead, breathing deeply to get the cramp to fizzle out. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional on Bruno’s part, but the carbs from the pizza were getting him to sober up a bit. Although, the more he came into his right mind, the stranger this situation seemed.  

He had just been approached by some random man, brought to a nice restaurant, and fed a meal. What was this man's motive? Why him? He had to ask.  

“...Are you some kind of charity worker or something? If so, I’m not interested.”  

Bruno raised his eyebrow and tilted his head. “Oh? You mean to say you don’t need this food, and that the stains in your clothes, hair, and on your face are intentional? You were wobbling drunkenly through an alleyway in the freezing rain without even a hint of protective gear, clutching liquor bottles as if they were your newborn child. Yet you’re ‘not interested’ in charity?” 

Abbacchio opens his mouth in defensive shock. Bruno had so quickly gone from soft to stern, it was like hearing a completely different person.  

Bruno clears his throat and sits up straighter, leaning forward. “I assure you; I’m nothing of the sort. However, if I were, it would be wise of you to take the help.” 

“I’ll start taking others’ advice when hell opens up, thank you very much.” Abbacchio quips, going in for that fourth slice. He was offended by the blunt wording, even if it was true. “If you’re not with charity then what do you want with me? Here to give me an earful about how fucked up I am? I’d preferred it if you don’t, it’s a waste of breath. And if you’ve come to kill me with some grudge, that’s fine, but don’t drag it out like this.” He slurs, mouth full. 

Bruno’s serious expression is succeeded by one of empathy. Not pity, but empathy. “I want to hear your story.” 

Abbacchio scoffs. “My story? Ever heard of a newspaper, dumbass?” 

Bruno remains unmoved by his sour attitude. “Only a fool would trust such an unreliable source.” 

“Yeah? And what makes you think I’m not just as unreliable and selfish as those journalists?”  

“If that were the case, I wouldn’t be sitting here.” 

“…You don’t know anything about me.”  

“Not yet.” Bruno smiles, sure of himself. It creeps Abbacchio out. 

“…Whatever.” It’s not like he had anything to lose by speaking to this man. “I dunno what to tell you—we got a call about a robbery, and the thief turned out to be a guy I’d taken a bribe from some weeks before. The bastard had a concealed pistol and my partner-“ 

“I’m familiar with the events, and that’s not what I’m asking for.” The waiter arrives at Bruno’s side again, setting down a glass of red wine, which Bruno deftly wraps his fingers around and takes a sip of. Abbacchio tries not to stare. “Why were you taking the bribes? What led you to that point? You were a promising cadet in the police academy and had a clean record all the way up until. Your life was peaceful and quiet, and you demonstrated a refreshing dedication to your career. What changed?” 

Abbacchio’s mouth falls open once more. “How do you know all of that...?” Has he had a stalker all this time without knowing? 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

He has to stop and think for a moment. Bruno didn’t seem to be attacking or shunning him, but rather seemed to have genuine curiosity. He could tell, again from the look in his eyes. Sure, it was creepy and strange that he had such an accurate recount of his life, but…maybe this was his chance. To tell his side. Maybe it wouldn’t change anything-no it definitely wouldn’t, but it was still...something. 

He wipes his hands off on his damp shorts, leaning his elbows on the table. “..You’re right that I was dedicated to my career. In fact, I was too dedicated.” He could feel the tension building in his chest already, a headache forming at his temples. Neglecting all his thoughts for so long was causing a physical ailment. Still, he tried. 

 “I came out of the academy believing firmly in the pursuit of justice; My sole duty was to protect citizens and detain criminals. Shortly after becoming an actual officer though, I was exposed to disgruntled, often times abusive, civilians who saw no value in the police force, and rampant, brutal criminals.” 

“At first, I figured it was just my lack of experience that was making things seem so bleak, but it was much deeper than that. I started paying attention to the news more and—…long story short, I found out that the courts and the criminals were in cahoots, exchanging money for freedom and permission to continue delinquency. It ruined me, slowly…because I knew there was nothing I could do about it. What could I do, as some low level patrol officer? And so instead of fighting a losing battle, I gave in to it. Became the very thing I detested. And got my partner...” 

‘Killed.’ He couldn’t say the word. Not out loud. 

Bruno stares attentively, absorbing every syllable like his life depends on it. Processing and interpreting. He doesn’t speak for a good minute or two after Abbacchio has finished, simply staring down at his lap with lightly furled brows. 

“…That all you wanted?” 

“You let the system make your decision for you.” Bruno murmurs thoughtfully. 

 . . . 

“—Excuse me?” 

Bruno looks up again, lacking the sickening smugness that Abbacchio expects to see. “Instead of following your heart and trusting in your desire for a just world, you let yourself be intimidated and had your sense of ‘choice’ stripped away.” He pauses. “You say you were too dedicated, but I don’t think you were dedicated enough.”  

Abbacchio felt an uncontrollable anger start to rise in him. Not dedicated enough? What does this guy know anyways?! Nothing. He doesn’t know how it felt to be in that situation- he doesn’t know how much he wrestled with himself, how much of himself he sacrificed— 

 . . . 

But isn’t he right? He’d given up prematurely. Didn’t use all the resources he had to their fullest potential…and instead became a cog in the machine. How pathetic is that? 

He says nothing.  

“Don’t misinterpret my words, though. I think you did what any disheartened person would have done. That kind of discovery is soul crushing, especially for someone as young as yourself, and finding a successful solution would’ve been nothing sort of a life mission.”  

Abbacchio’s head only lowers further. It was no use trying to console him about his failures, as detrimental as they were.  

 . . . 

“Leone.” 

His head snaps up, eyes alert. Hanging on the edge.  

“Listen to me carefully.” Bruno glows with sincerity, his voice steady and sharp, commanding attention with ease. “What’s important is not the result. It’s the path that leads you there. You may have never seen the day that the police department took up its original values and served the people as they were meant to, but your adamant fight to get there would have made all the difference.”  

Abbacchio’s throat constricts with the urge to sob. Who is Bruno to come in and upend his life? To try and provide him insight that he has no use for but to add it to his self-hatred? What is his motive? 

“...So, what? It’s not like I can rewind and stop myself from doing what I did.” 

“The fact that you want to is very telling.” Bruno relaxes back into his seat, arms folded. “You’re not a bad as you’ve made yourself believe.” 

“Cut the crap! Your half-baked poeticism is only irritating me further—what the hell do you want with me!?” His volume raises, patrons from other tables beginning to turn their heads. 

Bruno is unbothered. 

“I want you to join my team.” He says, ever so cryptic. “I’ll be honest with you, your career as a cop is said and done, but that does not mean you’ve lost purpose entirely.” Bruno mulls over a thought, eyes concentrated.  

And then he says something that subdues Abbacchio completely. 

“You will die, if you remain enslaved to your past. Your life is not yet over. I’m giving you a second chance. Prove to yourself that you can use your passion effectively. Prove it to me.” 

They stare at each other for a full minute; the restaurant seeming to hush and pause just for this moment. Every nerve in his body is engaged, and screaming at him to trust this man, to take the hand he’s extended and hold on with his entire, wretched life. Maybe it was naive, to let himself be so easily swayed by a hope so fickle, but his proposal moved him in a way he couldn’t have prepared for. Moved his stubborn heart and mind. 

Abbacchio wipes his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt, nodding.  

“Alright. I’ll do it.” 

Chapter Text

January 1st, 2000. Montepulciano, Siena. 

“Happy New Year, handsome.”  

A sweet, mellow voice filters through your drowsy, sleep-ridden mind, waking you as you subconsciously chase after it. Careful fingers dance across your cheeks before sliding up into your hair, raking through it slowly. You nearly fall back asleep at the touch, eyes still closed as your heart rate remains slow and steady. Behind your eyelids you can imagine who’s there...golden irises crescented by lavender, downturned lips with the shortest pull of a smile, and flowing silver hair that blends in with the weary winter clouds.  

But the voice isn’t quite right. It’s deeper than you remember it, and too bold. 

When you finally open your eyes, the only gold present is the glint of a golden tooth at the corner of a smirk. Bronze skin, freckles, and blonde hair turning brown at the roots. It’s Matteo’s hand that caresses your cheek. Not his. 

The realization startles you to a full wake, your heart skipping a confused beat as you take time to process the man above you and rid your thoughts of the other one. Matteo sits on top of the blanket you’re wrapped in, dressed only in a pair of bright red briefs, legs hung over the edge of the bed as he twists himself to face you properly. The dull sun pours in through the cracks of the blinds, indicating that it’s at least still morning time. As he sees you waking up, he tilts his head to the left, smile softening.  

“..sorry, what?” You say slowly, cringing at the grating state of your voice.  

Matteo gives a short laugh, running his hand through your hair once more. “I said ‘Happy Yew year’. Don’t tell me you’re too hungover to know what day it is?” 

You attempt to sit up, your limbs a hundred times heavier than usual, only dragging you back down to your position flat on your back. Hungover? Yeah, seems about right, but- 

“You were drinking like a damn sailor. You passed out on the couch last night, right after the first batch of fireworks.” Mateo’s smirk grows, as though he were silently making fun of you for still being such a lightweight, even after all this time. If you could, you’d punch him square in the face, but your depleted energy makes it impossible. 

The mention of fireworks though, gives your memory a little jolt. Yes…Marcello had thrown a New Year’s party last night, just as he had every year. It was one his biggest events and always proved to be a good time; good food, plenty of music and activities, fireworks at midnight, and of course copious amounts of booze. You must’ve been more caught up in the moment than you thought, if it ended like this.  

“…I guess the Prosecco was my last straw..” You sigh, getting another smug laugh out of Matteo. 

“Ya’ think? Don’t worry though...you’ve got such an awesome boyfriend who carried you all the way up the stairs and tucked you into bed all comfy-like. Imagine where you’d be without me, hm?” Matteo lowers his tone teasingly as he leans down, tapping your chin with his pointer finger. 

You scoff and smile up at him, lifting your limp arm to set your hand on his neck, using it to hoist yourself up and plant a kiss on his expecting cheek. “Thank you. I appreciate your chivalry.” You whisper sarcastically, earning an eye roll from him.  

“At least try and sound like you mean it.” He grumbles, though his cheeks still tint pink. 

“Don’t be a whiny bitch. It’s a new year, you ought to leave that behind.” You pat his cheek, feeling more like yourself after getting rid of the suspicious image that previously invaded your mind.  

“Fuck you..” Matteo feigns an expression of anger, pulling away from you, and effectively proving your point. You grin at his antics, trying your hand at sitting up again, having more success this time around, though the movement does give you the slightest headache.  

The blanket slides off your torso as you stretch your arms out to the side, Matteo smiling like an idiot as he lays all the way back, positioning himself to lie his head in your lap as he always did, like a damn dog. You can’t help but see the faintest glimpse of purple lipstick on his lips, but a quick blink of the eyes carries the visage away.  

“Speaking of New Year’s,” Matteo sighs, folding his arms across his stomach lazily. “Got any resolutions?” 

You shrug, lifting your hand to rub at his buzzed hair. “Not really…maybe get a new car? Find my own place?” 

Matteo hums, closing his eyes. “Mm- you don’t like livin’ with me anymore?”  

You click your teeth and tug at the tip of his ear, making him frown and pout as he swats your hand away. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m talkin’ about a new place for us. No offense, but, livin’ at your parents’ house is a drag. Especially with Gio takin’ up so much fucking space.” 

Matteo concedes, turning his head over to face the wall. “...Fair enough.” 

~~ 

Even though it’s been three years since you graduated, you still remembered the moment so vividly. After struggling through the hellish final exam week, you were able to proudly sit in that grand stadium, boiling with excitement as you waited for your name to be called. Your family erupted into cheers when you walked across the stage, causing a raucous without an ounce of discretion, even with all the snide glances they received. Giovanni was especially proud, tackling you once the ceremony was over and nearly bursting your head on the concrete. He cried like a baby, the first time you’d seen him do since you were kids, bawling about how he didn’t want you to grow up and how he wished he could turn back the clock. It warmed your heart to the point of melting, and truly made everything feel worth it. You were even crowned with a gorgeous laurel wreath that your mother handmade to highlight your dedication to being an honors student. 

Five years of hard work, complaining, and unexpected fun all coming to a close. You were happy, but something was missing. Someone was missing. 

Beneath the joy of graduation was the mourning of your ‘friend’. It was like you had lead filling the bottom of your shoes, when you walked across that stage without Leone sitting somewhere in the crowd, waiting his turn with a suppressed smile.  

You still thought about him, every day since he disappeared. Seeing his empty house was like a punch to the gut…he had simply just up and left— without a single word to anyone. Even though the two of you weren’t on good terms at the time, his departure still impacted you so. After the fight at Marcello’s party, you told him you never wanted to see him again in a drunken rage….and you wondered if that was what really drove him away.  

The words were said in the heat of the moment..and while you meant them to a certain extent, you hadn’t thought it would end up like that. You were more so hoping that after a month or two of calming yourself down about what happened, you could all have some kind of civil conversation about how to coexist. Forgive and forget, perhaps. You’d hated what he did, but you didn’t hate him.  

The guilt tore at you for months. Trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care about him was a sick joke. You wanted so many things; for him to come back, to call his phone that you didn’t know the number to, to show up at wherever he was hiding out, just to apologize. To say you didn’t mean it.  

And so, graduation was a celebration with the undertones of a funeral. It was the acceptance that Leone was never coming back, that he was somewhere you could not, and would not reach him. Your memory was the only place he still breathed, and the only place his voice could still be heard. He lingered in the quiet parts of your mind, whispering when you went to sleep, or when you were left alone for too long. It wasn’t like you could really talk about it with anyone either…Matteo still hated Leone deeply, Giovanni was adamant on making you forget him completely, and your parents wouldn’t understand in the way you needed them to. 

Matteo was a decent distraction, for what it’s worth. He loved you like you had never been loved before; buying you roses every month, calling you sweet names at every chance he got, even holding your hand in public sometimes, though only when he was sure it was safe. It was clear that he cared, and that eased the burden of Leone’s absence overtime until it was something you only thought deeply about every few days. 

Your relationship with Matteo was another thing that had significantly changed your life, for better and for worse. 

Two months after graduation, that being your 2-year anniversary, Matteo gave you the courage to come out to your parents. You had always been envious of how his family accepted him so wholly, and loved him regardless of who he was dating, and so the idea of coming out to your parents had been on your bucket list. The more you thought about it the more real you wanted it to become. You were an adult now, so why should it matter to them what your orientation is? Just the prospect of freedom was enticing enough to get you on board. It was still terrifying to think about of course; you knew your father probably wouldn’t be happy about it, but maybe you could get him to understand? As for your mother, the only thing she’d probably be concerned with was not being able to have grandkids.  

[‘She’s not going to reject you. I know I haven’t known her for a lifetime, but I can tell, she’ll love you no matter what.’ Matteo had said, his hands held firmly in your own, making you believe.] 

You had never been so wrong in your life. 

You’d stood there, ashamed and dumbstruck in your living room as Matteo tried to drown out the sounds of your father’s scorching outcries with affirming words. Your mother was too stunned to speak, her hand over her heart as if it had been ripped out of her chest while she sobbed, barely containing her shuddered breaths. Giovanni had come downstairs in a panic after hearing the commotion, already privy to the situation, and did his absolute best to defend you. In the end, it only equally screwed him over.  

Your father kicked the both of you out the house, with no warning whatsoever, and no time to prepare.  

By the end of that night, your rooms were empty, all your belongings thrown crazily into large garbage bags and put out to the road by your feet. House key taken. Childhood, taken. Estranged.  

[‘What the actual fuck are we supposed to do now?!’ Gio had been rightfully pissed off, but more frightened than anything.] 

You had no words and no solution. Matteo just kept rubbing circles on your back, trying to comfort you, but it did nothing to help. You were completely distraught. Not only had your parents not accepted you, but they had outright disowned you—not to mention your brother getting caught in the crossfire…the emotional chaos crumpled your spirit in an instant, you couldn’t breathe, or hear any of Gio’s rantings anymore, it was just pure hysteria. You cried pitifully, spewing out apologies left and right until your throat became sore and your airways were blocked. 

… 

It wasn’t until midnight that you were finally able to calm down, and come up with a real plan.  

Living on the streets was out of the question. Gio suggested crashing with one of your neighbors, but the probability of them actually letting you in was below five percent.  

[‘You two can stay at my apartment..?’ Matteo had offered quietly.] 

An automatic ‘No’ was on your tongue when he made first mention of it, but you held it back as you remembered your situation. It was definitely too soon to be moving in with him, and felt like such a leap, but there was no other option that wouldn’t get you shunned or killed. Gio had made a face at the idea of being a constant third wheel, but came to the same conclusions you had.  

With a bit of negotiation, Matteo’s parents agreed to let you and Gio stay in their family home for ‘as long as you need to.’  

It was a comfortable space in terms of decor and utilities, and you were grateful for their generosity, but the apartment was way too small for five adults. Specifically considering the lack of privacy. You loved your brother and all, but nowadays it seemed like he was everywhere he didn’t need to be; walking into you and Matteo’s room in the middle of the night to ask for a CD, lounging in the living room when you were clearly trying to have alone time—there had even been several occasions where he walked in on Matteo showering simply because he pays so little attention to his surroundings.  

And then there was Matteo’s parents, who were rarely around due to their work schedules, which made it all the more likely for you to be spooked whenever they did show up. 

Adjusting to living with a different family with a different set of rules had been challenging as well. You gained an almost unsettling amount of freedom, and struggled to get comfortable with it, reminding yourself every few hours that this is your home now, you’re not just a guest in it.  

... 

Your mind was only so resistant to acclimation because you’d still secretly hung onto the hope that your parents would call you back someday. And maybe that was a bad thing, to continue seeking concession from a source that had already closed its doors to you, but you couldn’t help it. There was always going to be a part of you that yearned for your parents. For their love again.  

~~ 

“What are ya’ going to do about Giovanni, though?” Matteo asks, shifting to get more comfortable. 

“I’m not his guardian, he can find a place of his own if that’s what he wants to do.” 

“He’ll be sad if ya’ leave him behind.” Matteo suggests.  

“Since when were you his advocate?” You chuckle.  

“Listen, I might be an only child, but I know he cares about you. And worries ‘bout you a whole lot, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”  

You sigh, leaning back against the pillows. “…alright, fine. What do you want me to do, huh, bring him along with us? Let him sleep in our attic?” 

Matteo snickers and shakes his head. “No, of course not…just talk to him about your plan so he won’t be blindsided.” 

You hated to admit he was right. Leaving Gio behind suddenly could project more harm than you previously cared to recognize. He essentially has no one left except you and Matteo, and he’s had to get used to that for the past three years. He’s tried to act tough, and always made sure you knew he didn’t regret defending you, but it was obvious he was just as torn about being kicked out. Having something similar happen again could be triggering, to say the least.  

“...Yeah, okay..I’ll talk to him.” Matteo gives a smile of approval, nodding. You decide to get the topic back on track, “How about your resolutions, hm? I think you should start by touchin’ up these roots, wannabe Barbie.” You joke, poking your finger at his head until he starts groaning.  

Matteo is a fake blonde, and you never let him forget it. “If you’re going to make jabs at me, at least be creative.” He sits up, turning to face you again. “My resolutions? I wanna make more money. How’s that sound?” 

“You get shallower by the minute.” 

He rolls his eyes. “It ain’t shallow to want to have a full wallet. Think about it, ya’ gotta have money if you want a new apartment, right?” 

“Okay, sure. How do you plan to do it? Is the car wash not doin’ enough for you?” 

Matteo shakes his head, standing up from the bed and setting his hands on his hips. “Sure, it is. But I need a hundred more clients by the end of the month to get to where I need to be.” 

“A hundred? Are you stupid, or what? You really think people are fixin’ for it like that?”  

“Marcy said he’s already pulled in about 15 newcomers from the party last night. It’s called networking, babe.” He grins. 

“Networking my ass.” You mumble, rubbing your temples to halt the headache threatening to come back.  

“Horrible business mindset.” Matteo playfully tuts, looping his thumbs into the band of his boxers. “Speakin’ of business, non-believer, I’ve got a couple jobs to do later today. Wanna come with?”  

“Have I even got a choice?”  

“Absolutely not.” His gold tooth shimmers again as he smiles.  

“Damn you.” 

————— 

After giving yourself time to recover from your hangover, the two of you bid farewell to Marcello, thanking him for the party and coincidental sleepover. What followed was a 20 minute drive back to Matteo’s house, where you expected Giovanni would greet you at the door, but as it turned out, he had a pretty eventful New Year’s himself, his entire body oddly strewn about the living room couch as he snored loud enough to wake the neighbors. The two of you decided not to interfere.  

Not that you had time to anyway, since Matteo was already rushing you into the shower, rambling on about his plan to quote, ‘Network the hell out of Montepulciano,’ and be a millionaire by 2001, getting angry every time you laughed at his ridiculous ideas. His proposals weren’t necessarily impossible, but hearing him rant was like witnessing the works of the ‘Mad Scientists’ you only hear about in fiction. 

“Alright, come on, what’s on the schedule?” You sighed, voice muffled as you shrugged a blue and red striped shirt over your head, Matteo watching from his place on the bed. He hums and reaches towards his nightstand, pulling a little orange notebook planner from the top drawer and flipping to its latest page. 

“…Shipment comes in at 2pm…delivery in four different locations from 2:30 to 4:00…and then of course distribution.” He lists, snapping the book shut and letting it rest in his lap.  

“Pretty lax. At this rate, you’ll never be rich.” You snicker, bending down to slip into a pair of sneakers.  

Matteo shakes his head, rising from the bed. “Nah, I’m confident…the shipment is different this time. Better quality chemicals. Word’ll get around...people will flock from all over the region.” He taps the back of your head lightly with his notebook before you straighten up to give him a halfhearted glare.  

“I don’t know if that kind of spotlight is what we need, Matteo.” You contest. “Not all attention is good attention. Think about it.”  

Matteo’s smile falls flat and his shoulders slump. “..I hate it when you’re smarter than me..”  

“Guess you’ll be hating for the rest of your life then.” You pat his shoulder in sarcastic consolation.  

“The rest of my life? Does that mean you’ll marry me?” Matteos teeth show, and you know he’s back on his high horse again.  

You can’t help but laugh in his face. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He frowns, attempting to make you change his mind with the adorable look of dejection he puts on, but you remain strong, turning away from him to leave the room. “The longer you stand there, the less money you make!”  

That instantly gets him to follow you 

————— 

“C’mon, I can’t be that bad, right?” Matteo picks at his fingernails, one foot resting on the dashboard as he reclines in his seat. “I don’t think I’d be a bad husband.” 

He hadn’t let the conversation go, even after you’d started driving to the first location for the day. Beyond the windshield, acres of frostbitten land spread out, trees shivering without their leaves and only made to suffer more by the grey clouds that keep the sunlight locked away. You enjoyed taking the backroads; even though it was currently a husk of its summer self, it still proved tranquil. It reminded you of home. 

You turn your head briefly to Matteo with a passive look. “Of course ya’ don’t think so, you’re you.” You focus on the road again, shifting the wheel subtly around the tight curves in the narrow dirt road. “Anyways, I never said you’d be a bad one. It’s just that it’ll never be possible. The government doesn’t give a shit. ‘Once a fascist, always a fascist.’ You know how it is.”  

It was a frustrating reality, but one you’d gotten over years ago.  

Matteo goes silent, no longer messing with his fingers but instead looking out the window.  

‘Damn it.’ 

“..If it makes you feel any better, I’d still let you propose to me.” You murmur offhandedly.  

Just as you expected, Matteo’s head snaps right back to you, smiling brazenly. “Who says I’d be the one to propose?” 

“You’re the one who’s gonna have all the finances to buy a ring, aren’t ya?” You quip back, smiling too.  

“If you loved me, you’d do anything to get that ring on my finger, even if ya went flat broke.” Matteo hums assuredly, crossing his arms against his chest. 

… 

‘Love.’ 

‘Do I love Matteo?’ 

You blink, lightly shaking your head to clear the invasive thought, forcing a crooked smile. “Since when did you become such a diva?”  

“I’m just speakin’ my truth, that’s all.” He says cooly, now folding his arms behind his head. 

“Uh huh...” 

Matteo quietly celebrates his rare victory at getting you to ‘agree’, nodding to himself and turning up the radio, heavy metal leaking through the windows and carelessly disturbing Mother Nature. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. Your eyes trail to him every few seconds, watching him play an imaginary drum set, putting on a smoldering expression as if to impress you, making you laugh incredulously. You began nodding along with him, singing the lyrics of the song in unison, feeling the beat against the floorboards and even in your seat, easily overcome by its ecstatic energy.  

‘Of course I love him.’ 

Right on the hour, the two of you exit the car at the allocated pickup location for the chemicals you needed for the carwash. It was a different place every week, this time being an abandoned church building in the quieter corner of Montallese. It’s a less than attractive building, maintaining a plain, rectangular structure, and lacking the detailed intricacies of a typical Catholic Church. High above the doors was a single rose-window with white framing, geometric patterns appearing like a flattened dahlia. The layered Archivolt is stained with age, the white from its glory days now a mixture of muted browns and grey. Cracks of all lengths and widths scale the building from the roof to the stairs that lead up to it. Two wooden crosses are stuck beside the doors, a useless reminder to the congregation.  

Matteo is first to approach, fearless as always as he clears the stairs in three swift lunges, knocking on the double doors six times. You lock your car doors before following along, pulling the zipper of your coat a bit higher when a chill breezes through. Climbing the stairs, you’d expected that someone would be letting you inside by now, but the doors remain shut. Matteo scratches his head, leaning in to press his ear to the door. 

“...Are you sure it was supposed to be 2pm?” You draw back your sleeve, glancing down at your watch.  

Matteo nods confusedly, pressing closer to the door. “He should be here...” 

“Maybe he stood us up.” You stomp at a patch of weeds growing up through the stairs. 

“Have some faith, will ya? The old bastards probably takin’ a na— “ 

Before Matteo can finishes his sentence, the door he was leaning against swings open in one quick motion, sending him falling with a yelp. He, luckily, lands on his side, grunting at the pain of the concrete on his bones, whilst you fail at stifling your laughter.  

“Looks like you were right after all.” You jeer, lightly tapping his back with the toe of your boot. Matteo flips you off from his place on the floor.  

You turn your attention away from him and back to the person who had finally come to the door.  

“Buonasera, Signore Andretti.” You gleam.  

The man stares down at Matteo, snickering as he kicks his shoulder, face shining with amusement. “Hey yourself, kid.”  

Nicolo Andretti was a man of 25, a head taller than the two of you, and wild to his core. He’s not exactly unattractive, long black hair tied into a neat ponytail, thick eyebrows, light brown eyes, and a bushy mustache to top it all off. He sports a cropped leather jacket, covering a navy-blue turtleneck, straight black jeans, and black utility boots. You didn’t know too much about his life or where he came from, but every time you saw him, he would always tell stories that could have, and probably should have ended in his death, such as the time he was almost poisoned by his uncle, or when another client tried to push him off the edge of a cliff. He was meant to be older and wiser, but acted just like a reckless toddler, maybe even more so than you ever had. He remained unbothered by mostly everything, rarely seen without a smile on his face.  

“Cut it out, jackass!” Matteo swats at Andretti’s leg, only making him laugh harder. You finally offer a hand to help Matteo up, pulling him to his feet and dusting off his clothes for him.  

“What were you saying about me being an old bastard? These doors aren’t all that soundproof, you know.” Andretti smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turns and begins walking down the aisle, a slight limp in each step. 

“Never mind that—what took you so long to answer? We were freezing our asses off!” Matteo is right on his heels, leaving you behind to close the door back, before moving along.  

“Relax, it wasn’t that cold outside. Besides, if you’d really like to know, I was finalizing your order, brat.” Andretti gestures off somewhere to the right. 

“Makin’ it nice and neat, huh?” You speak, voice echoing through the empty space, fingers tracing dust off the wooden pews as you pass them by. 

“Something like that. ‘Tried to make things a little easier for you by organizing the products categorically.” Andretti reaches the front row of pews, Matteo at his side as he leans over to grab a large cardboard box, lugging it over to the altar. 

“How kind.” You catch up with them finally, standing in front of the podium as Andretti opens the box carefully. Matteo loops his arm around your shoulders, holding you close. “Matteo said you had some new stuff for us…?” 

“Sure do,” Andretti pulls out a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, slipping them over bony fingers before reaching into the box. Out comes a regular looking spray bottle, with a dark wrapping over its front labeled ‘Wash & Shine’. He untwists the spray attachment, setting it off to the side momentarily. 

He holds out his hand far out enough so that the two of you can see, slowly tipping the bottle over, causing a quiet rattling sound, atypical for a car wash chemical. 

Outpours a dozen little white pellets into Andretti’s palm, his lips curving at the sight. 

“Oxycodone. 5mg’s per tab. Semi-synthetic, so it’ll get the job done.” 

Your eyes widen subtly, and you shift on your feet. 

“…this is what’s got everyone hooked now? These little things?” You murmur, reaching out to grab one between your fingers, but getting the back of your hand smacked by Andretti.  

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to judge a book by its cover? These things pack a punch.” 

“You tried any?” Matteo chimes in, still staring down at the product.  

Andretti gives a shy shrug. “What kind of seller would I be if I didn’t make sure the shit was functional? Listen, I wouldn’t be giving it to you if I thought it wouldn’t be worth it. This stuff costed me a pretty penny. ” 

“Touche.” Matteo sighs. “Everything else is in here too, right?” He points to the box as Andretti funnels the pills back into the bottle.  

“‘Course it is. Fent, Coke, PCP, Heroin.” As he speaks, Andretti points to various other bottles of ‘chemicals’ separated into sections. Matteo grins and nods at the confirmation.  

“How much do you reckon we should sell em’ for?” You step a little closer into the warmth of Matteo’s jacket. 

Andretti hums, tracing his mustache with two fingers. “…€50 per 5 tabs.” 

“Isn’t that a bit inflated?” 

“Trust me, the price won’t matter for long. After a week, they’ll be begging to pay €200 for just one.”  

You can see a spark light in Matteo’s eyes at the mere prospect of that kind of money. You just nod.  

“Alright kid, I’ve held up my end of the bargain. Cough it up!” Andretti closes the box back, removing his gloves and looking at Matteo expectantly, leaning against the podium. 

Matteo heaves a long sigh, unraveling his arm from around you and digging into his coat pocket. “Alright, calm down, you know I’ve got your cut...” A large bundle of cash pops out, and Matteo removes the rubber band around it, fanning the money out into a semi-circle for Andretti to see. Fives, tens, twenties, and fifties, varied in color and design. “€3,500 in total. All yours.”  

Andretti looks as though he might start drooling, a glutinous smile creaking at his cheeks. He swipes the money swiftly, counting through it with the precision of someone who’s been in the business for far too long. “Shiiit…I might start dancing!” And he does, spinning around in a wobbling circle, pressing the money to his lips like a crazed groom.  

“Jesus, are you high?” Matteo chuckles, watching him twirl. 

“As if it weren’t obvious enough..” You mumble, already tuning to leave, too tired to join in on the usual nonsense. You hear Andretti cackling at your snipe, and turn your head over your shoulder one last time to see both him and Matteo jumping around like amateur ballerinas, clunky and disgraceful. It was too ridiculous not to laugh at, and you quickly became winded just watching them go on and on. 

You were three peas in a fucked-up pod.  

Gaining your breath back, you grip at the edge of a pew to keep yourself upright, motioning for Matteo to come on. “Alright, okay, we’re gonna be late. Let’s go.”  

Andretti whines childishly but relents and ends his performance with a final bow, slicking his hair back when he stands up. Matteo is out of breath when he returns to your side, the heavy box in his care now. “Damn, just when it was gettin’ good.” He says. You roll your eyes and pat his shoulder, steering him towards the doors. 

“Thanks again Andre. See ya in two weeks, yeah?” You turn and give him a little wave, which he returns with a more erratic one.  

“Happy selling, and Happy New Year!” He shouts, smiling with pride as you both exit the church. 

~~ 

Life is unpredictable; It always has been and always will be.  

At the age of 19, you had been kicked out of your home, disowned, abandoned—all of it.  

Even though you eventually had a place to stay, you weren’t happy by any means. You’d worked your ass off in high school only to have no idea who or what you wanted to be. You had only survived off shortsighted goals like schoolwork and exams, and now without that structure you were crashing. And, perhaps, even if you did have a career you wanted to go into, what were the chances you would actually have the motivation to keep up with it? Paying for college would be near impossible with the situation you were in, and even the thought of applying made you exhausted. 

Sure, you still dreamed of being a rockstar. But you knew you’d never make it. It was a dream for a reason. 

 Joy and belonging were steadily sapped from your DNA…the world now deprived of its mythical, prospective film and replaced with something much meaner. Uglier. Existing became your one and only goal, drifting through days with half-assed kisses and smiles, an occasional party to pick you back up and simultaneously bring you back down. 

It truly felt like your body was living and your consciousness was simply surviving. You stopped wanting. You stopped needing anything and just let life happen the way it wanted to. You would never have control over it, so why try? 

[‘Hey.’ Matteo had turned to you in the middle of a silent night last year, tracing his fingers against your neck. ‘Do you want to get rich with me?’] 

And it was…something. Absurd, but tangible.  

You didn’t laugh at him or call him a fool. Just stared, and nodded.  

It was an idea Marcello mentioned in passing while you all were half-drunk, bonding over a campfire some months before, that apparently Matteo had clung onto. 

[‘Those Mafia pricks make a fuck ton. They might have some shitty business practices, but can you really blame them? If it sells, why not make a profit?’ 

‘The hell do you know about the Mafia?’ Matteo snickered. 

Marcello smiled. ‘How do you think I get all the shit for my parties?’] 

Matteo’s motivation wasn’t hard to decipher. He was in a separate boat from you, but he was just as directionless. He never had dreams of what he could be…wasn’t particularly skilled at anything, or intelligent where it counted. He needed busy work, and Marcello was the one to provide. It was illegal, but he never cared about anything like that. Doing business with the Mafia would be on a completely different level, but everyone’s got to start somewhere, right? He wanted luxury, and this was a way to get it quick.  

You’d all sat around a table on one of Marcello’s balconies, striking up a plan.  

[‘Money laundering. Ever heard of it?’] 

It was a common practice, more common than one would expect, and scarily inconspicuous. The most effective method of drug trafficking. It worked like this; Marcello had connections with a Mafia underling, whom he would convince to sell them a portion of the drugs he stashed. They would then create a fake business, one that was ordinary enough to be ignored, 

[‘How about a restaurant?’ Matteo had said, blowing cigarette smoke into the wind. Marcello shook his head. 

‘Too complicated. We’d have to finance a bunch of employees—the startup cost would be beyond even my budget.’ 

‘…a carwash.’ You’d murmured. ‘You’ve got buddies who work with cars, right? Get them involved, I know they wouldn’t resist a buck.’] 

And you were right. Marcello had gotten 10 others in on the action, and the rest was smooth sailing.  

Marcello would renovate one of the garage spaces on his property into a makeshift shop, lining it with metal shelves for cleaning products and tools, turning it into something that could be considered professional. For a week, he took in real customers; washes, detailing's and repairs for a cheaper price than the average service fee.  The outreach spread quickly thanks to his friends, and they generated a loyal roster within a month.  

Once the business was established, Marcello would finally introduce you to the connection he knew of. This turned out to be Andretti. In exchange for a set amount of drug product, Andretti would get a partial payment for the amount he had to spend on them, and then 10% of the car washes bi-weekly proceedings. It was risky, since he could turn on them at any moment, but it was a chance they were all willing to take. 

You and Matteo were tasked with dealing the drugs. (Andretti had the bright idea to package them into common car cleaning products, just for extra security.) It wasn’t hard to find people who wanted them; offering to people at Marcello’s parties proved effective. In the beginning, all you had was coke, yet people still raved over it like it was the seventies again. Later down the line, you all were able to afford things of higher demand like fentanyl and marijuana, and kept evolving from there.  

The ‘dirty’ money generated from the sales would then be distributed amongst a group of 8 people, including yourself, who would pose as regular customers going to the car wash. Once the money was in Marcello’s hands, it could be written off as ‘clean’ money, and re-dispersed to all those involved in order of their role. Andretti got the biggest cut of course, and Marcello was second to him. The third largest cut was allotted to you and Matteo, since you were in the most dangerous position. 

Initially, these sums of money given to you and Matteo were rather slim considering how much it had to be sectioned off, but as the cycle ran and ran, business became more active, and the checks you received grew larger, and more…sustainable. Not yet enough to make a living off of, but enough to where you could buy new clothes and essentials at your every whim.  

It was a different kind of freedom. Forbidden and dangerous but encapsulating all the same.  

Of course, Gio knew nothing about it. And he never would. If he found out his little brother was dealing, he would only feel like even more of a failure. Keeping his nose out of your business was easy on a surface level since Gio had got a job of his own at a restaurant around the same time, but there was always a chance that you could get caught. With all the people who knew your face now, it was no telling who might get the word around to Gio. You simply hoped for the best.  

... 

You sometimes quietly wondered what Leone would think of you if he knew what you were doing now. 

~~ 

Lying in bed that night after a long day of negotiating and constantly watching over your shoulder is all too relieving.  

The window is half cracked open, waves of cold air pushing in and fighting against the persistent heater. Matteo lays shirtless, flat on his back, smoking a cigarette even though he knew it would keep him up hours past his bedtime. You lie on top of his chest, also shirtless, stealing the cigarette from his hand every so often to get a puff of your own. The skin-to-skin makes the chill easier to ignore and keeps you drowsy with comfort. Quiet rock music is playing from across the room, your old radio still coming in handy after all this time, creating a calming, comfortable atmosphere.  

Matteo traces shapes along your back, your skin tingling beneath the touch. “..I think I’d like to get a tattoo soon.” He says randomly.  

You lift your chin to look at him, smirking faintly. “Sounds pretty sick. What would you get?”  

He shrugs, playfully tips the cigarette this way and that to keep it away from your grasp, before finally bringing it to your lips. “Dunno. Maybe an eagle. Or a bear.”  

“Too macho. You’d look like an egocentric idiot.” You breathe out the smoke with a short laugh, Matteo rolling his eyes. “What makes you wanna get one anyway? You lettin’ Marcy influence you again?”  

He shakes his head as if that was such a preposterous conclusion, “I do have my own brain, y’know that right?”  

You smile and he scoffs.  

“Anyways, I just thought it might suit my vibe better…sorta badass, no?” 

“Uh huh, sure.” You nod halfheartedly. “I don’t think you need to prove to anyone that you’re badass. You’re a dealer for fucks sake…” You lower your voice, eyes flicking to the door just in case. 

Matteos chest jumps as he laughs shortly, momentarily disrupting your peaceful resting spot. “Yeah…guess you’re right about that.” His hand moves from your back to your hair, gently stroking the soft strands. 

You aren’t sure if you really believe being a member of the Mafia makes anyone ‘badass.’ Are they badass, or are they desperate? You at least know which one you are. In any case, it probably wasn’t a good idea to make Matteo think what you all were doing was ‘right.’ Sure, you had a steady flow of income and were living a semi-purposeful life, but your activities could easily get someone injured or killed. And you wouldn’t even know or be held responsible for it.  

You couldn’t say you felt bad about it. It was just business, and it wasn’t as if you were forcing the drugs into peoples’ systems. It was their choice to buy, and your job to provide. Morals had no place in this line of work, and you had long forgotten your own; Matteo probably never had any to begin with. Yet still you paused when you saw the look on some of your customers faces…they were like zombies, restless, sluggish, and entirely out of their minds. Dilated pupils, collapsed veins, bruises on every surface of their skin. Addiction was no joke.  

It brought you back to what Andretti had said earlier about the Oxy. How easily it could destroy, so much so that people would give up everything they had for it. And then Matteo’s unusual attention to the little white pellets…  

“Hey, Matteo?” 

“Mmh.” 

“Can you promise me something?” 

“Anything you’d like.”  

“Stay away from the drugs, alright? At least the hard ones.”  

Matteo freezes, looking down at you with a raised brow. “…Where is this coming from?”  

“Don’t worry about it, just promise me. Please?” 

… 

“Of course, sweetheart. I promise.” 

God forbid you lose him, too. 

Chapter Text

Abbacchio wasn’t sure what to expect after he’d agreed to join Bruno—in fact he probably should have thought more critically about what he even meant by ‘join my team.’ What team? Would he have to mingle with other people? He didn’t want that. He isn’t good at teamwork, if his track record is anything to go by.  

He pondered on all of these things silently as the two of them sat in the back of a white taxi after leaving Libeccio. It had been waiting outside for them all along, the driver greeting Bruno with a smile of familiarity and honor. Perhaps this was his personal taxi? If so, what does that imply about Bruno? At any rate, Abbacchio was just glad he didn’t have to walk anymore, considering his swollen feet covered in blisters. 

It was still raining heavily, water droplets bruising the windshield as the car winded down every street. Abbacchio kept his head leaned against the window, tucked into the side door, trying to keep warm. He was cold, even with the heater blasting. Bruno sat next to him, one leg primly crossed over the other, eyes staring straight ahead almost like he was on a mission of sorts. Neither of them spoke or looked at each other, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, especially since the ride was no longer than 10 minutes.  

Their destination was a tall, luxurious apartment complex. It was hard to make out the details in the dark, but the few streetlights showed that the building was at least clean and not on the brink of collapse. The inside was even better; It had a functioning elevator, decadent leather couches in the lobby, a small chandelier that hung gracefully from the ceiling, a concierge that wasn’t nearing death...it had life. The opposite of Abbacchio’s previous situation.  

People in the lobby gave him looks as he passed by, but quickly fixed their faces when they saw who he was following behind. Each and every one of them bid Bruno a good evening as he stepped through, smiling or even blushing…Abbacchio might have been envious if he wasn’t so freaked out. Bruno, of course, answered them all with the same peaceful smile, waving a fanciful wave and nodding his head to them.  

What is this, a god damned pageant?  

Bruno walked up to the concierge confidently, who was leaned against his chair with his nose poking into a newspaper. Bruno lifted his hand and tapped his finger at the little golden bell at the edge of the wooden counter, a quiet jingle sounding. 

The concierge, a middle-aged man with short, curly brown hair and little black moles across his face, was already on his feet, newspaper discarded, leaning against the counter to greet Bruno. “Oh-Hullo there, Bucciarati!” Just like all the others, this man was immediately enamored by Bruno’s presence alone. 

‘Bunoasera, Capperi. “Bruno said with a light chuckle, leaning his forearms against the counter. Abbacchio stood and observed awkwardly. 

‘Capperi’ adjusted his glasses and blazer, “I take it your outing was a success?” and he glanced behind Bruno to look at Abbacchio curiously.  

Bruno turned and looked too, calmly smiling again before looking back to the man. “Indeed, it was. Were you able to handle the favor I’d asked of you earlier?”  

Capperi nodded dutifully. “Yes, sir, it’s all taken care of.” 

“I knew I could count on you.” Bruno pulled something from his pocket then, concealed by an envelope, and slid it across the counter. The concierge grinned as he took the envelope in his hands, but quickly pulled himself together, slightly bowing his head.  

“Of course, Bucciarati.” 

They exchanged their goodnights, and Bruno began making his way towards the elevator, Abbacchio blindly following behind once again. In just that simple interaction, he had come to several conclusions, all of which he was struggling to keep to himself.  

1.)  Bruno Bucciarati is rich, or at least somewhat wealthy.  

2.) Bruno Bucciarati premeditated finding him, somehow.  

3.) Bruno Bucciarati has an unreasonable amount of people kissing his ass. 

It was the second one that he was truly concerned with. It would’ve been one thing if Bruno just happened to spot a drunk at the point of no return and it just happened to be Leone Abbacchio, but it was another thing if Bruno had been purposefully searching for Leone Abbacchio with a plan in mind. The latter implies that Bruno had been keeping tabs on him for at least two months. Perhaps longer. Abbacchio thought he’d done a pretty good job wiping himself off the face of the earth, refraining from purchasing anything with his credit card, keeping a low profile in the rare times he went out—he was barely even recognizable to begin with in comparison to the ‘him’ before the shooting. So then how? 

Just who is Bruno Bucciarati? 

Abbacchio fidgeted with the cuff of his shirt sleeve as the elevator whirred and began lifting them to the fifth floor, eyes trained on Bruno, who was more interested in the state of his fingernails.  

“What’s got you so worked up, Abbacchio?” Bruno spoke quietly, finally looking at him. How did he..? 

He cleared his throat and looked to the floor, Bruno’s eyes too piercing to face. “..how did you find me? And-and what were you talking about with the concierge? And how can you afford this place?” The more questions he asked, the more frustrated he became. There were still so many gaps in this bizarre encounter.  

Bruno, the smug bastard, smiled again. Abbacchio was starting to hate it, regardless of how charming it was. “Well, at least you’re still cognizant enough to form sensible questions.” He set a hand on his hip. “All will be answered in due time, so don’t waste your energy stressing over it.”  

Abbacchio huffed and rolled his eyes discretely. “How long is ‘in due time?’” 

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open to reveal a hallway lined with burgundy carpet and upturned, lantern-like wall lights, carrying the same vibes as the ground floor. Bruno stepped out first, not even pretending to answer Abbacchio’s question. Rude. He staggered behind him, looming over his shoulder.  

“You can’t just keep me in suspense like this.” 

“Can’t I?” Bruno turned his head over his shoulder to look up at Abbacchio, bearing a smirk. Now he was just being cheeky. 

Abbacchio decided it would get him nowhere trying to force the answer out of him, (and simultaneously kicked himself for proving Bruno right by giving up) so instead he tried his hand at patience for once. They proceeded down the hall, passing a few abstract paintings hung on the walls which he briefly admired. 

Soon they approached a door, three prominent numbers sat below the peephole, ‘555.’ A silent testament. Bruno pulled out a key ring from his pocket, a miniature zipper swinging alongside a plain silver house key, jangling as he showed it into the lock. Abbacchio guessed the zipper thing must be his motif, but ‘why?’ was a question for another day.  

The door opened to a more than spacious apartment—in fact Abbacchio could almost think to call it a penthouse. There were a few candles sat out to combat the darkness, filling the foyer with a smell akin to a warm ocean breeze. Bruno remained silent as he went through familiarized motions; taking off his shoes and setting them on a rack against the wall, hanging his umbrella on the coat rack, tossing his keys in a little blue dish on the entry table, and finally a stretch of the arms above his head, followed by a contented sigh.  

Abbacchio felt strange just staring and watching, so he went ahead and took off his shoes as well, frowning at how soggy his socks were, and how horrible that felt against the hardwood floor. He’d hoped he could get out of these clothes soon. Bruno beckoned him with a crook of his finger, and Abbacchio started up again, following him through the hallway until they’d reached a bedroom, tucked away at the back of the apartment. He opened the door, but didn’t go in just yet. He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, offering Abbacchio to step in first. 

The first thing he noticed was the neatly made bed at the center of the room, garnished with fluffy black pillows and a matching comforter. It had a rustic, wiry frame, twisting in the shape of flowers and vines. He’d felt his knees wobble at the thought of comfort waiting beneath that blanket. But before that, there was also a large gift box sat prominently on top of the bed. It was dark grey in color, and wrapped with a silky purple ribbon that seemed to twinkle in the moonlight.  

“..I think you left something.” He’d said, raising a brow to Bruno who was still lingering in the doorway. 

Bruno smiled and shook his head. “It’s for you.” 

Abbacchio’s expression furled back into confusion. This must have been the favor Bruno had asked Caperri about. He could only begin to guess what was inside the box as he walked towards it; a pair of proper shoes? A box full of cash? Maybe it was full of alcohol—he’d wasted the three bottles he bought earlier that night by accidentally leaving them at Libeccio... 

But when he reached down to open the box, it was nothing of the sort. 

Packed carefully into the gift box was a set of cotton pajamas patterned in black and white pinstripe, a plum colored coffee mug, a toothbrush and toothpaste, lavender body wash, and a baggie that contained a tube of lipstick, mascara, and eyeliner. That wasn’t all, either. There was a hairbrush, some deodorant, an expensive bottle of Armani cologne--he sifted through the box with an expression of total shock. 

And finally, beneath everything, he pulled out a black leather overcoat, long enough to match his height but not too long to where he’d trip over it…there were gold embellishments down at the corners where the coat opened up, as well as around the pockets. And in the center… 

A plunging v-neckline with purple laces crossing over what would be exposed skin.  

He paused. And was frightened by his remembrance of someone he hadn’t thought about in years. 

He sat there for a long moment, just gawking at the piece. 

“Well, is it to your liking?” Bruno’s voice had cut him out of his thoughts, thankfully. He swallowed and gave a short nod. “Go on, there’s still more.” 

Abbacchio did as he was told, holding off on the breakdown he could feel prodding at his nerves, and instead went back to looking through the box. There was a pair of leather pants to go with the overcoat, and a nice pair of pointy dress shoes. The last thing he pulled out was a black leather-bound notebook, ‘Leone Abbacchio’ engraved in the top left corner in gold.  

He saw his father's face behind his vision—and that of a boy he once— 

Now things were getting out of hand. He didn’t know whether to feel angry or scared, but he rose on his feet, throwing everything to the bed, and grabbed Bruno by his collar with a trembling hand, the cuts on them from earlier on the verge of opening up again.  

“Who are you?! Is this some kind of sick joke?!”  

For the first time that night, Bruno’s expression was one of surprise, but he made no move to fight against Abbacchio’s grip, despite his feet being lifted from the ground. 

“…If I’ve somehow upset you, it was not my intention. These were merely a few things that I’d hoped would make your living here much easier.”  He said evenly, maybe even a little perturbed. 

… 

There wasn’t a hint of deceit in Bruno’s words.  Abbacchio felt instantly embarrassed by his outburst, a light blush on his cheeks. Of course that’s all it was…there was no way Bruno could know about something as private as the moment his father found out about his journal, no matter how sneaky he seemed. Or the time he went to the mall. Those things were undocumented. No one would ever know.  

Bruno narrowed his eyes and lifted his hand to lightly tap at Abbacchio’s forearm, signaling to be let go. He immediately released him with a deep sigh and turned away to sit on the edge of the bed again. Bruno fixed his wrinkled clothing, but still bore no face of anger.  

“…thanks. For the stuff.” Abbacchio mumbled, head hung between his shoulders as he pinned his gaze to the floor. “I like it. It’s all very...purple.” 

“Not too much, I hope. I had just seen how much the press harped on about your purple lipstick and sort of ran with it.” Bruno chuckled softly, moving carefully towards him. The moment of tension had faded just like that.  

Abbacchio shook his head, scratching at his neck. “No, it’s-it’s good. It is my favorite color, so...” Things only felt more awkward with how casual Bruno was acting. “But—…did you just say I’d be living here?” 

Bruno hummed and sat on the desk that was set across from the bed. “Yes, I did.” 

“..is that a requirement for being part of your team? You trying to keep all your ducks in a row?” He said dryly. He didn’t really have a problem being offered a new place for free, especially when it was as nice as this, but considering his behavior just moments before, he couldn’t think why Bruno would want him around 24/7.  

“Yes, and no.” Bruno tilted his head. “I suppose it’s about time I give you a proper explanation of all this…” 

Abbacchio nodded. 

“Straight into it then.” Bruno took a breath and stood up straight, looking as imposing as ever. “My name is Bruno Bucciarati, I’m 18 years old, and I’m a member of the organized crime group known as Passione.” 

Abbacchio’s jaw dropped, but Bruno put a finger up to silence him.  

“Yes...when I said, ‘join my team’, what I really meant was ‘join my gang.’ Apologies if I led you to believe this was a foster care group of some sort, but it isn’t. As a former cop, I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you who or what Passione is... judging by the look on your face it seems you know plenty. That should also answer your question as to how I was able to locate and get so much information on you; your life isn’t as concealed as you believe when it gets in the hands of a highly trained gangster.”  

Bruno pauses for another breath.  

“As I said before, I chose you to join my team for a reason, so rest assured you’re in the right place. Tomorrow, you will see a man named Polpo, my Capo, to begin the initiation process. I have no doubt you will pass the test. Beyond that, yes, this will be your new home. Being a gangster is dangerous work. The risk of having you live in that shithole as my team member is far too great. You are more easily accessible here, and I can ensure that you’ll be properly trained and taken care of.”  

“…speaking of being taken care of, this is also the easiest way to help you end your addiction.” 

“Wait-“ 

“Abbacchio. You’ve allowed yourself to indulge for this long, but I can’t have you in that state anymore. It ruined you, and will continue to do so if we don’t do something about it. As harsh as this may sound, you’d be completely useless as a drunkard.” 

Abbacchio snarled. “You knew I was a drunk when you picked me up off the streets. You don’t believe I’ll actually get sober-you’re not that dumb.” 

Bruno sharpened his gaze, fiercely determined. “It’s not up for discussion.” There it was again, that overwhelming sense of authority that made Abbacchio freeze. “Now, I’m a gangster, not a psychiatrist, nor a therapist, and I’ll never be able to provide you that kind of assistance once you’ve joined Passione, but believe that I’m going to do whatever it takes to destroy your alcoholic tendencies.” 

Abbacchio did believe, strangely enough, and perhaps against his better judgement. He couldn’t find it in himself to put up a wholehearted fight. 

Processing all the information at once was wearing down his already tired mind. He ached from the day’s events. He wanted a drink. He yawned on accident.  

Bruno covered his mouth with the tips of his fingers and resisted a laugh.  

“Okay, alright, I suppose it has been quite the day, hm? Go on and get some rest, we can talk more in the morning.”  

Abbacchio had no objections to that. 

————— 

[Wednesday February 2nd, 2000] 

[ It’s been years since I’ve done this. It’s awkward as hell…but I sort of missed it. It freaked me out, when I saw this journal at the bottom of that box Bruno gave me, but I can’t help but be grateful. It’s almost like he knew, even though he tried to deny it, that this is what used to keep me from losing my mind. It’s bittersweet.  

Anyways, I woke up with a lot on my mind. After last night, I was most shocked to find out that Bruno is younger than me…he seems so put together and regal—everyone he encounters respects him. Something I could only dream of accomplishing. I wonder how he does it, being a mafioso and all that. Are people not afraid of him? Why don’t they spit at him for his crimes? I was a damn cop, and they treated me like the grimiest piece of scum that could ever walk, yet somehow the gangster is the one getting his boots licked? ... I guess I’m projecting.  

On that note, I don’t hate Bruno. I don’t know if I like him, but I don’t hate him. Maybe, he’s a bit weird and smiles too much, but he’s kind and understanding. It honestly makes me sick, that he extends and instills that hopefulness in me, who is undeserving, but I can’t find it in myself to tell him to stop. Jesus, it’s only been one night, and I’ve already got a soft spot for a stranger... I still don’t think he chose the right guy for whatever mission he has within Passione, but I can’t back out of it now. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to put my best foot forward, but I have the feeling that Bruno will teach me.  

The only real tragedy in all this is what Bruno said about me getting sober. I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice, and I know that. It’s going to be a pain in the ass, though. I already can feel the withdrawal symptoms, and it hasn’t even been 24 hours…a headache, stomach pain..fuck. I might die before I even get sober. Frankly, I’d prefer that to whatever I’m about to be put through. I know it’s my own fault, but I’d never imagined I’d actually have to deal with the consequences…I think I’ll blame this on Bruno after all.] 

Abbacchio closes the journal with a soft sigh, reaching over to set it back into the bedside drawer. The window across the room is completely frosted over, winter still running its deadly course. He stretches out his limbs and holds his pounding head as he climbs out of bed, already missing the warmth of the thick blanket. Admittedly, not sleeping on a thin, cold, desecrated mattress proved to be great for his body and mind; it wasn’t enough to get rid of his nightmares completely, but the voices were quieter, and he thrashed a lot less. 

As he rises, he catches a whiff of freshly baked goods swarming in the air, and considering the state of his stomach, there’s no way he isn’t going to investigate.  

He exits his room cautiously, peeking his head out of the doorway and looking both ways, before following the smell and letting it lead him through the unfamiliar space. It brings him to a door just a few paces down the hall, which he opens only to be blasted in the face with the sweet aroma. Smack dab in the middle of a dining room table is a plate stacked high with various different pastries, surrounded by little cups of blueberries, oranges, strawberries, sliced melon—it’s heavenly. 

Though, before he can continue his pursuit for the delicious breakfast that awaits him, he’s stopped by the sight of another person already sat at the table. The figure lacks the dark, cropped hair that Bruno rocks, but is instead strawberry blonde and reaches just past the bottom of his ears, a little unkempt. The boy is busied with a half-eaten parfait, shoveling spoonfuls of yogurt and granola into his mouth with his head down, keeping the rest of his features hidden. He’s still in his pajamas as well, though his consist of a plain white t-shirt and fluffy green pants with a strawberry pattern all over them.   

Abbacchio doesn’t move an inch more.  

“Who the fuck are you?” He says. 

The boy flinches and swiftly springs from his seat, wielding his spoon like a pocketknife and pointing it in his direction. Abbacchio, alarmed, takes a step back and puts his hands up in surrender. Embarrassing, to be scared of a kid holding a knife, but to be fair, he did look intent on stabbing with it at any cost.  

“That’s what I should be asking you, asshole. How did you get in here?” His voice cracks under the curse of puberty, but that doesn’t make him any less intense. When Abbacchio doesn’t immediately answer, he jabs the spoon at the air towards him, a warning. 

“Bruno brought me here last night. —could you put that fucking spoon down?” He answers hurriedly. 

The boy does no such thing, only strengthening his grip. “Why should I believe you? Bucciarati’s got a lot of people out for him. You could be here to kill us both.”  

“Listen kid, I don’t even know you. Besides, why would I come here to kill you in my damn pajamas?” Abbacchio gestures at his less than appropriate clothing.  

The boy considers this, eyes darting about. “…your name?”  

“Your’s first, brat.”  

“I’ll kill you! I mean it, I’ll beat the shit out of you if you don’t tell me your god damned name!—“  

“Pannacotta Fugo!” A shout of disapproval comes from a door perpendicular to the one Abbacchio is at, one he hadn’t even known was there until now. The both of them whip their heads in the direction of the voice, surprised to see none other than Bruno Bucciarati angrily holding two steaming coffee mugs, dressed in his usual suit. 

Whereas Abbacchio couldn’t get the little bastard to bend, this so called ‘Pannacotta Fugo’ instantly cowers at Bruno’s voice, dropping the spoon to the table and lowering his head in disgruntled shame. Bruno huffs and makes quick steps across the room, setting down the mugs on the table so that he can (dramatically) place his hands on his hips.  

“Apologize.”  

Fugo curls his lip, brows still furrowed as he shoots Abbacchio a glare before looking pleadingly in Bruno’s direction. “It’s not my fault, I-I was trying to protect you!”  

Bruno is having none of it. “I said apologize, Fugo. You have no right to be threatening unsuspecting guests in this manner.”  

Fugo looks to be vibrating with restraint, and forces out a weak, disingenuous “Sorry.” 

Bruno gives a curt nod. “Good. Now, finish your food. I’ll explain everything in just a moment.” As Fugo returns to working at his parfait, albeit irritably, Bruno motions Abbacchio closer, pulling out a seat for him at the far end of the long table, opposite of Fugo.  

He sits, but doesn’t take his eyes off of Fugo, just in case he changes his mind about being ‘remorseful.’ As he takes his seat, Bruno slides over one of the coffee mugs he had been holding, as well as a small porcelain bread dish with a fork and knife in its center. Then comes the large platter of goods he’d been eyeing earlier, Sfogliatella on the first layer, Cornetto on the second, and an arrangement of Biscotti neatly stacked as the third top layer. Abbacchio hopes his practical drooling isn’t obvious, and tries to keep himself under control as Bruno gingerly takes the seat next to him. 

“Good morning Abbacchio. Please excuse him, he’s distrusting of newcomers.” He says, taking a sip of Espresso. 

“Yeah, no shit. ‘That your kid or something?”  

There’s a brief gurgling sound, Bruno presumably choking on his coffee, which he attempts to cover with a clearing of his throat. “..Don’t be ridiculous...” 

“You’re right, I was just fucking with you. He doesn’t look anything like you, and he damn sure doesn’t have your personality...” Abbacchio snickers at himself as he brings his mug to his lips. Fugo glares.  

Bruno looks like he might roll his eyes, but refrains. “Fugo is another member of our team.” 

Now Abbacchio is the one choking, eyes wide. “..You’re telling me that little squat is a gang member?”  

“Yes, he is.” 

“How does something like that even happen? How old is this kid?” 

“He’s 14. And as far as how he ended up here…well, it’s not my tale to tell. I’ll leave it up to him whether or not he wants to share the full story.” 

Fugo grumbles from across the table, making it clear he won’t be sharing anything. Which is fine, because Abbacchio is still hung up on the fact that he’s only 14. 

“Well, shit.”  

Bruno moves on, looking to Fugo now. “Fugo, this is Leone Abbacchio. You know, the man I’ve been searching for these past few months?” 

Fugo’s faces scrunches as he’s slow to process, looking Abbacchio up and down, left and right. “Oh. So it is. Why is he here, though?” 

“As a new member of our team I thought it’d be best for him to stay here with us. I know we didn’t get a chance to talk about it, but I can’t say I’m willing to negotiate on the matter.”  

Fugo’s eye twitches. He scrapes the sides of his parfait cup aggressively, licking the remains off his spoon before taking both dishes and storming out of the dining room with the door slamming behind him. A mini tantrum. Bruno watches the door for a solid minute before he sighs deeply, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers. 

“I don’t think he likes me very much.” Abbacchio mutters, scratching at his stomach as he reaches for a Sfogliatella.  

“He’ll come around.” Bruno says, more hope in his tone than the usual security. “Regardless, Fugo is not our main concern at the moment—it’s getting you into Passione.” 

Abbacchio nods. He wasn’t interested in sucking up to a moody teenager anyways. 

“As previously mentioned, today you’ll see a man named Polpo, our team’s Caporegime. I’ve already spoken with him and confirmed that you’ll be visiting, so the process should go smoothly. I’m not allowed to disclose the details of the assessment with you, but he’ll explain them when you arrive. Don’t take anything with you.” 

“…Alright, sounds fair enough. Where am I meeting him?”  

“Poggioreale prison, of course.”

….  

“Excuse me?”