Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was another day of restless, tiring debt collecting alone. Buildings of all sizes glared with harsh lights, either from windows or terribly bright signs. The sky was as black as it could be, while still allowing the dark clouds to be visible. Dull, plain white lamplights weakly illuminated the streets, the roads to his right being as bare as fresh paper.

The rain poured down like a billion icicles were trying to jab at Mafioso’s shoulders and back. Raindrops splattered beneath him, messing his fancy shoes and the bottom of his pants up with rainwater. The rainfall was loud, making his hidden rabbit ears feel as if they were going deaf, and the terrible white noise would be the last thing he heard. But the rain wasn’t what was his biggest bother.

BOOM!

A strike of lightning came crashing down near the city, the sound directly piercing his ears, evoking a sudden and violent jolt of fear, causing him to stop in his tracks. 

Mafioso was a cold, stone-faced man. How come thunder, of all things, scared him to paleness? 

BOOM!

Another strike came down, making the man freeze and bunch up again, before slowly and cautiously beginning to walk as if the sound of thunder itself was a stalker right behind him. It felt like even the sound clawed right into him, exposing his heart bare as skin. 

The signs on every building possible continued to blind him, causing him to see every color at least twice a minute. 

The rain’s strength and the recently picked up wind only grew stronger. It practically pushed Mafioso around like a free, fallen leaf. In some short moments, it felt like the wind and rain paired up to try exposing his embarrassingly soft rabbit ears. The wind would threaten to push his slick, shiny fedora off while the raindrops would push the rabbit ears down, free like flowing hair. He got terribly sick of that and held his fedora down, as strange as he might’ve looked to anybody watching at this late hour.

10:57 PM, his fancy watch under his sleeve read. Heaven knows if there are any buildings or structures still open for him to take a break from the great outdoors. His penthouse is still decently far away, and his phone, which he used to contact his mafialings, had died long ago, with numerous cracks on its screen. He wondered how that thing was still alive, hanging on by a thread.

BOOM!

One more crackle of lightning to send Mafioso into a silent fit of shock. The sky lit up briefly, a sign on a window that read ‘Open 24/7!’ in a familiar font finding his eyes. He glanced up at the bold, bright sign to see just where he was already planning to crash for a few minutes.

Surprisingly, it was his family’s own casino.

Not even the other rival casino in town; it was his own.

No need to think he’d be a stranger to anybody in the building— he’s familiarized himself with a few frequents. 

He opened the glass doors, a bell jingling just above his head as he stepped in with a light stomp from his heavy-duty boots. The walls were a rich red, with a luxurious crimson carpet perfectly accentuating the lustrous, creamy-brown marble tiles. There were slot machines, tables, and people everywhere, many of them losing fortunes to their god awful luck. None of them had that lucky touch.

“Jackpot! You win!” A machine played its voice just to Mafioso’s left. The sound of coins spilling and piling up against each other echoed through the whole first floor, grabbing every commoner’s attention.

The one with such a graceful hand and cocky smile? “Chance...?” Somebody muttered.

“Of course, he won a game again...” Another one sighed as they turned to look at their empty bucket.

“Woo-hoo!” The man cheered, ignoring every comment circling around. He picked up the same duffel bag he always used in case he won and made sure every last coin fit inside. “Ah—! Oh, it’s just you, Don. How long ‘ave you been standing behind me?”

Oh. He didn’t realize he stood that close. “Um.” Mafioso somehow struggled to find words, mainly distracted by how sopping wet he was from the rain. “A... while.” His nose was starting to get stuffed, head already flaring with heat.

“Jeez, man! You’re practically soaked! You could flood the whole casino at any time if ya could, haha!” Chance chuckled as he nudged his elbow against Mafioso’s arm, his same pearly smile shining ever so beautifully. “‘Mon, go get dried up. My ‘special permissions’ pass still hasn’t expired, has it? Cuz I’ll be following you. Ya look miserable as fuck.”

Good thing his fedora hadn’t fallen off while looking down at Chance. Now, the height difference wasn’t much, just about five to six inches, but it still hurt his neck a bit to look downward. And he’d look even more ‘miserable’ with the hat off. “Hey, Donni. How come you’re soaking wet when you could’ve, I dunno, probably driven here instead of... I’m assuming walking?”

“... Where I parked for the last one was not far from the casino. I figured it would not hurt to walk a bit more, amico mio.” Mafioso was following Chance to the employee elevator, on the opposite side of the regular elevator. He kept his distance from the man, trying not to get him sick and drenched. 

“Heh, I guess that’s fair.” Chance pressed a button, patiently leaning on the side of the elevator before the doors opened, and motioned Mafioso to head in first. He nodded and hastily walked into the elevator, Chance barely having to worry about getting soaked since the metallic room was fairly spacious. “Hey, Donni. You know what’s truly fun in a casino?” They pulled a coin from their inner blazer pocket and flipped it with their thumb. “The risk. It gets your adrenaline pumping when you go against a person while gambling. It’s no fun when there’s no real risk, as seen in slot machines. I mean, the music and watching the money fly out is fun, but where’s the entertainment in only having to sit and never think?”

“I’m not the one to be confronting for your critique,” Mafioso mumbled, watching Chance’s coin fly again. “I was not the builder for this casino. I am only a part of the family that owns it.”

“Ehhh, I know! But it’s still better to talk about it with a friend than with a scary higher-up I hardly know. Helps me get the words out much easier.” He flipped the coin one more time, landing on heads as the elevator stopped and opened its doors to a long, glorious hallway. “Well, we’re here, Don! Lead the way to your room!” He went to pat Mafioso on the back, but hesitated as soon as they felt the humidity from his gigantic blazer.

Mafioso nodded once more, quietly stepping through the halls, the carpet muffling his stomps as Chance simply followed. They reached the door to his room, Mafioso opening the door and walking through, but stopping before Chance could enter. “Chance,” he spoke. “Is there a reason you continue to hold that coin? To flip?”

Chance was a tad bit startled to hear that sudden question. They looked down at the coin in his hand, with a familiar yet small dent at the top of it. ITrapped’s final mark before they cut off ties with that wretched man. 

“... Chance?”

“Ah. Sorry.” They continued to stare at the golden ‘charm’ in their hand before going back to make eye contact with Mafioso. “Just as both a good luck charm and a fidget, y’know? I get jumpy while risking it all, too.” He flipped the coin again, watching it land on tails and jokingly frowning like a cartoon. “I’m just like your average gambler. Except I’m actually close to you, and not just someone for small talk.”

Chance could practically see his reflection in the coin, from all the basic details like his not-quite curly hair to the more minor details like the mole on his right cheek, just near the corner of his eye. The ‘charm’ was as golden as... 

... 

Robloxia, October 199X

It was drizzling, the sky painted gray like Chance’s skin. The water came down ever so gently like snowflakes; the city was dull with all its bright signs and lights off. Everything almost looked like a scene straight from the old films, far before the advent of color.

“Chance!” A yellow individual wore a sharp and stylish ice crown that perfectly matched his blue vest, along with a chic, white frilled jabot, accompanied by a simple blue brooch. The teenager’s pants were a vivid yet soft green, and his shoes were exquisite. His hair was straight down yet messy, bouncing as the teenager waved a hand excitedly and ran towards Chance. “I’m SO glad I saw you today!”

The child was wearing a red hoodie, carrying a simple, black umbrella above his head for extra protection against the rain. “Oh, iTrapped. I didn’t expect to see you... especially in the rain like this. I thought you were a fan of keeping yourself looking tidy and fancy?”

ITrapped laughed and took Chance’s free hand. “Yeah, but I don’t mind getting dirty with you around. You’re fun to hang out with, whether that be in the backstreets or in a field.”

“Hehe. Yeah, right. How much money do you need to buy yourself lunch again?” Chance put down the umbrella, and rain immediately stained his hood while they grabbed their wallet.

“Actually, I wanted to give you something for once. For being a great friend.” He reached into the pocket of his green pants and held out a singular, golden coin. It almost matched the bright color of iTrapped’s hand. “I know you have a lot of coins that look like this one. That’s why this one will be special.” He adjusted the coin from his palm to two of his fingers, biting down on the top of it with his canine tooth. “There, this one has my mark! That way it’ll be like a treasure to you!”

...

“I see.” Mafioso interrupted Chance’s thoughts with a tone that spoke of worry, gentleness, and yet rigidity. “Come in. You may wait for me on my bed, and if somebody comes in and asks about your presence, you show them this.” He picked his rabbit-shaped brooch off his blazer and held it in Chance’s hand. “Tell them it’s your physical pass.” Mafioso stepped away from the door, inviting Chance to come inside as he went away to a different room— which Chance assumed was his bathroom— inside his bedroom.

They sat on the side of Mafioso’s bed, holding the rabbit brooch with both hands like it was a small, fragile creature. It looked adorable, even without a face. Just seeing its ears and chubby face was enough to determine its cuteness.

The room looked about as exquisite as Mafioso spoke. His bed had the fluffiest, deep purple blanket, along with a comforter folded across half the bed, and finally a thin throw blanket just at the edge. It was so... rich. There was even a rug under the whole bed. Jeez, and all Chance got was a somewhat large bed with one, just enough blanket. At least it was warm enough to ward off the freezing winter nights. Sure, they also lived in luxury, but it wasn’t as luxurious as THIS. He just took whatever seemed like enough to keep him alive.

Not to mention the millions of fuzzy, white pillows that were scattered everywhere in the room, on the bed, on the bay window, you name it. 

On the nightstand was a fancy table lamp, a regular alarm clock, and a framed-in-gold photo of a younger Mafioso holding the cutest bunny Chance has ever seen. It was a whole cloud with two black pearls, slimmer pieces of fluff just on the smaller part. Of course, even in the photo, Mafioso’s eyes weren’t visible. He wasn’t wearing a hat or anything, but his jet black hair hid them. What a shame... the sun’s even beaming right on his face.

Knock knock knock! 

“Boss? Are ya in there?” A rough yet relatively high-pitched voice exclaimed from the door, snapping Chance out of their train of thought. “Me n’ the boys were jus’... lookin’ for ya. You been missing for a while now.”

Silence.

Silence because Chance was already trying to plan what he should be doing. Silence because Mafioso... was still in the other room. Silence because there was nobody in the proper place to respond and give an appropriate answer.

Chance began to fidget with the brooch, making sure not to make a sound or even drop it. Heaven knows how fragile this shiny, pristine, beautiful, so Don-like— What? Huh?

A different voice spoke, much softer than the previous one, but still loud enough. “Boss, we can hear you playing around with your bunny brooch again.” WHAT? 

Chance turned their eyes to the brooch again, letting their hands continue what they were doing just to see what they were doing wrong to almost blow his cover. 

Clink... plink-a-plink... 

Of course. The rings on his middle fingers were tapping the brooch like a person poking another. So obvious! And they didn’t catch onto this earlier? Were they this dense? God, he should just jump— WOAH. 

They comically frowned as soon as the thought they heard played in their head. Jeez, they knew these kinds of jokes were practically imprinted in permanent marker into his mental dictionary, but he didn’t expect to hear it this easily and be shocked by it. 

The door began to open gently. “Boss, we can’t take the silent treatment this easily—” Light peeked in from the crack, and everyone froze upon seeing each other.

“Who are ya?!” One of the four with a crowbar yelled, preparing to bash Chance in the head. “An’ just why do ya have our Boss’s rabbit brooch?!”

“H-Hey now, haha!” Chance raised his hands to each side of his head, holding the brooch with his right thumb. “Your, uh, Boss gave me this and said to tell you it’s a physical pass from him!” Truthfully, if these were Mafioso’s workers, he should have probably been able to recognize them and vice versa. Sure, he talked to them about his goons a few times, but he’s never seen them for himself.

One of the goons holding a plank didn’t believe Chance’s obviously true reason. “Weell... ‘M not sure I trust your words... How can we be sure you didn’t successfully kill our Boss or sumn’? And took his most precious pin to taunt us, and sittin’ there like ya did nothin’? And—”

“Contractee, that’s enough.” The one with a white, simple top hat rolled his eyes and put a hand on Contractee’s shoulder. “The Boss’s done this with a few people, givin’ them his jewelry as a physical sign o’ their permission to be here.” Mafioso has more jewelry? He actually knows other people? Is Chance at least his favorite? What?

Another goon in shades stepped forward and leaned towards Chance, getting scarily close as their covered eyes stared at each other. “Say, how’d ya get in ‘ere? I don’t see da boss around.”

Chance, although nowhere near sick, felt his throat burning as he simply thought of what to say. “Uhhhh... haha. First, can you back away...? Y-You’re, uh, making this communication thing a little harder.” The fellow shades wearer stepped away a tiny bit, then tilted his head with a raised eyebrow to signal Chance to continue. “Thanks. Err— Second, he... went into another room.”

“Which one?”

“Uh—. Didn’t see. Too busy looking at this thing here.” He held out the rabbit pin for the goon to see, hoping he sounded convincing enough. Because surely, if Mafioso’s taking this long in that other room, he must be busy and cannot be disturbed. “Pretty cute, if you ask me.” 

They recalled all of Mafioso’s ‘gossip’ about his workers. Hell, it was almost every day they saw each other and had time to chat! How Contractee kept messing up yet redeeming himself, how Consigliere and Caporegime were doing so much of the work, and Soldier was just doing his own thing. Maybe the goons have heard about Chaaaaance...?  

“Has Don ever—”

“You are to call him ‘Boss’ on his turf.” The top-hat wearer barked. 

“... Right. Has your boss ever spoken to you four about...” What’s a way he could describe himself that wouldn’t sound egotistical or anything? Daring and nice are obviously off the table— ah, wait. “A gray guy who’s always sporting a similar-looking fedora or something...?” 

That seemed to put the goons in a long thinking process. Now, Chance could have run out of the place if he could, but the weapons these guys held looked like they could break his legs. So he kept his feet glued to the ground, sitting comfortably still. “I mean, all I recognize from yer description is gray. So probably.” Contractee shrugged and spun his wrist, holding the plank at Chance. “Said tha’ guy had a real knack for gamblin’ at this place. Always winning. Says it’s impressive.”

‘Says it’s impressive.’

‘Says it’s impressive.’

‘Says it’s impressive.’

The words echoed in his brain like the world’s most important voice. Mafioso found his talent and luck impressive? All of his limbs were suddenly released from the tension Chance had unknowingly built up, and he leaned in his spot. “Well, guess that’s me. Here, I even got a bag of coins from one of the slot machines.” They pointed to under their calves, where they’ve been resting their legs the entire time.

Contractee took the bag and handed it to the top-hat, muttering something like, ‘I’m not entirely sure I trust this guy, Consigliere,’ or whatever. Consigliere rolled his eyes, sighed, and patted Contractee’s back as he opened the bag. Two shiny gold coins slid out, the mere opening being enough to let some more flow out easily.

The goons slowly looked up from the bag, all eyes wide open (although Chance couldn’t tell if the one in shades had his eyes like that, too) and mouths agape.

Silence again. Just the faint sound of coins occasionally dropping out of the duffel bag. “... Uh,” Consigliere spoke first, clearing his throat and breaking eye contact with Chance. “I apologize for any discomfort we may ‘ave given ya.”

“Yeup.” The one in shades held his hand to the back of his neck as he agreed. “I also apologize for not exactly... seein’ ya that easily, ya kno— Soldier, what’re ya doin’?! Stand back!”

Soldier, apparently, was readying his crowbar and lowered it at the goon’s orders. 

Chance felt like these guys now worked for him. But he won’t exploit that feeling. “So, you guys said Don— Ah— Y-Your boss talked about me before? How often, exactly? And what’d he say?” He tightened his grip on the rabbit pin, driving his shoulders up as he called Mafioso by his actual name, especially after Consigliere said to call him ‘Boss.’ He could already see Death’s door and Heaven’s gates, imagining just how these guys could maul him to death for possibly disrespecting their boss.

“Well, before we tell you that, how ‘bout ya move over so we have room to sit beside and tell you? The bed’s big enough for a whole group like us to fit n’ sit.” The shaded one shooed Chance to their right with his hand so they were in the middle, and down came the goons on both sides. Contractee and Soldier to their right, and the other two on their left. Now, he wasn’t being squished, no; this was quite comfortable. It felt like what he imagined a girl's sleepover would be like. Except with weapons on the floor.

“Caporegime, where d’ we start? Da Boss talks about dis guy a lot.” Soldier, who was right next to Chance, put on a playful face and threw a sideways thumb at them. 

“I’m not Capo, but I say we start with every positive thing he’s said,” Consigliere suggested.

“That’s still everything!!” Contractee began throwing his hands around. “Seriously, he’s always like, ‘Oh, he’s just the nicest man I’ve met,’ and ‘Is his luck something genetic? I’d like that kind of fortune,’ which always sparks more gossip between us! Right, guys?!”

Chance was about as red as the curtains behind him. However, the other three were nodding and quietly expressing their agreements, which was not helping his case at all.

“Oh, yeah. Every time he’s behind his door n’ thinks he’s alone, he starts saying stuff like dat.” Caporegime had his arms folded as he leaned on a fluffy pillow, quickly readjusting his shades.

“Don’ forget how he always counters it or whateva’ with sumn’ cheesy like, ‘Perhaps his luck has already rubbed off on me. Caspita, è proprio un grande amico…’ n’ then chuckles like that’s nothin’ outta nowhere.” Soldier frantically waved his hands around with a look that almost resembled a game theorist losing it over a minor detail nobody cared about. 

“S-So I... take it that Donni’s very fond of me—?” Chance barely muttered out that sentence, being utterly shocked at such praise being gossiped about by Mafioso’s own workers.

The goons immediately shut their mouths as soon as Chance mentioned Mafioso’s name. Ohhh, I fucked up big time, he gulped in his mind. “‘Donni...?’” Consigliere repeated like the nickname was a new piece of candy in his mouth. “Chance, was it? Think dat’s ya name, judgin’ from what I’ve heard from Boss.”

Chance was too stunned to speak, so all he did was nod with a nervous smile, hoping the goons didn’t notice how red he was. He’s even said his NAME outright??? What kind of fantasy is this he’s living through?! And why is it all going the way he never expected but really craved?!

“Well... then ya must be real close with da Boss if you’re calling him names like dat. He don’t even let us say his first name! Or his last— just ‘Boss!’ You real lucky, man!” Consigliere playfully nudged Chance’s arm with his elbow, even cracking a slight grin.

Soldier held his hand out, retaining his stone-cold face, yet breaking character a little with a slight smile. “Glad to get to know ya, Sir.”

“Oh, haha—! No need to call me that, no way! Just, uh, call me by my name. Chance.” He took the hand and shook it twice.

“Then nice to meet you, Chance.”

Contractee started to bounce up and down on the bed ever so slightly; it may have been subtle, but he was doing it enough to be noticeable. “What else is there...” 

“We could tell him about how Boss sometimes wears headphones. Mighta been inspired by Chance ova’ here.” Caporegime put forth, tilting his head a bit.

“Nah, 'cause— Wait, how do you even know dat? I ain’t ever seen him in no headphones.” Contractee stopped moving around just to glare at Capo. “Don’t matter. Don’t think jus’ wearin’ some nice ol’ head decoration mean Chance inspired Boss.”

Consigliere shook his head and held a hand forward, palm down, like he was trying to push lil ol’ Contractee’s wildness down. “I think there’s a possibility, Contractee, Jus’ a real slim one, ya know?”

Chance had long lost his focus on the conversation, his reddish hue on his face slowly fading away. The warm light from the chandelier just in the middle of the room lit the whole place up, but the moon peeking from between the curtains of Mafioso’s bay window glowed like an ethereal being calling his name.

... Calling his name... 

... 

Robloxia, September 199X

“Chance!” A voice called his name. “Chaaaance!” It played again, this time singing. 

The source of the sound was from his bedroom window. He looked out the glass pane and opened it, gazing at the road beneath and seeing iTrapped, waving a bright, golden key to catch the child’s attention. “Finally, you woke up!”

“ITrapped, it’s like...” Chance briefly left the window to glance at the clock above his door. “One in the morning... I dunno, I couldn’t tell; my eyes are terrible.”

The yellow teenager giggled and continued to wave the key. “I knew you’d say something like that. But I have the key to my house’s basement so we can eat some tiramisu~!”

Only the last word was needed to wake Chance up and grab his undivided attention. He felt like he had downed seven cups of coffee with no consequences possible. “How am I gonna get to you? It’s a long way down.”

“Easy, just climb the bumps in the walls. Looks easy to me.” ITrapped shrugged, looked around, and smiled as he slowly turned back to Chance. “Unless you’re chickening out and don’t want some sweets? Think I even got some of that strawberry candy you love. I dunno.”

If Chance could just jump out the window unharmed, they would do that. However, this is reality, and fall damage is pretty heavy. They’re on the third floor, too... “I don’t think... I can climb the walls.” They looked around, peering their head through the window. “Maybe I can try to climb down to the fence? Or land in the trash cans over there.”

“I’m not taking home someone who smells like a homeless man.”

“Fair. So what should I do??” They were starting to reconsider their initial decision to go with iTrapped.

“Either you climb the walls, jump down, or stay there and miss out on fresh tiramisu.” He began sauntering, taking a single glance at Chance, keeping with his agonizingly sluggish steps. 

Well... Chance is always insanely lucky. The fence beneath him is relatively high, at a fair height that could let him climb down the fence... maybe he could do that?

“Wait, iTrapped! I’ll just jump down to the fence and climb down from there!” Chance waved their hand, yelling at the teenager to put his eyes back on them. “Just, uh, let me get a jacket. My room’s already covered in ice.”

‘Ice.’ Cold. Freezing. That’s how iTrapped acted and treated Chance lately. He’d been ignoring Chance’s ‘no’s’ and forcing them to do things they’d never wanna do. But then, the next day, he’d be offering Chance a bunch of sweets like nothing happened. And, of course, with the humungous, tremendous sweet tooth they have, they never denied chocolate or cake, or whatnot. It was always a terrible day, an improper plea for forgiveness, a terrible day—you get the point.

Coated in three layers of sweaters, Chance knocked on the window to his side to make sure iTrapped was still with him. “Alright, I’m all geared up now. You still there?”

“As always. Hurry up.”

They were still a tad unkempt, with their curly hair being more than just curly, and eye bags very clearly visible, but who cares? Midnight dessert is on the line. Despite how quickly their heart raced from the simple thought of a jump they could easily make, Chance was determined to get those exquisite cookies of iTrapped’s. Seriously, the chocolate chip cookies are almost always just the right amount of gooey for their tastes. And not to mention that lemon ice cream cake iTrapped bought only for them... Their mouth was practically in the process of making an ocean the more their brain rambled on.

Chance stepped onto the windowsill, the cold stabbing into their feet through their fluffy kitty socks, and looked down. Yeah, no, the fence was at a safe jumping distance. They could make it.

So they backed up with the little surface they had to build up some momentum and ran to the edge, letting their legs guide them through the air and onto the fence. The metal was even colder than the air, but they couldn’t just drop down. So they slowly went to the ground, looking like a spider as they climbed and climbed. 

And soon, the child was on the ground, walking beside a man who stepped and lived in frost, with only a promise of temporary tranquility under a full moon.

... 

“Dat moon’s makin’ me real tired.” Contractee was the first to drag Chance out of his memories. “You think we can sleep now?”

Capo was on his stomach, lightly kicking his feet as he, too, watched the moon. “We’re done with our jobs for tonight, so maybe.”

Consigliere got up from lying on his back and stretched, reaching over and poking Soldier awake. “What about our new friend here? Where’s he gonna go? Cuz Boss’s been away for a long while.”

“Ah—” Chance stuttered, “I-I can just go home—”

“Nonsense! You ain’t goin’ nowhere after a nice meetin’ like dis! Take this as our apology! For tryna rough you up earlier.” He leaned in and whispered with a smile, “I hear Soldier makes da best pancakes outta all’a us.”

Pancakes... Chance repeated in his mind. Do they have really sweet syrup...? “... Fine, I can stay.”

The goons cheered the moment Chance said ‘fine,’ not entirely processing the rest of the sentence until they were done celebrating. “We got a guest room for you. Whenever yer ready, we can take ya there.” Soldier rubbed his eyes and smoothed out his clothes, preparing to look presentable when they left the room. 

“I can go now,” Chance said while adjusting their hat and shades, standing up, and waiting for someone to help him get to the guest bedroom.

Soldier nodded and followed suit, getting in front of Chance and opening the door. “Aight. Follow us.” He motioned with his hand for the others to come along, letting Chance go first and have the three get out to lead him to his destination for the night.

... Mafioso stood by the door in his bathroom. Everything went as planned. All followed the ideal plan. He sighed, leaning on the counter with his hip on the side and a hand on top. Let Chance get to know the goons and have him stay overnight. Of course, not even his workers knew about the plan, but that doesn’t matter. He’s staying over now!

He left the bathroom, all dried up and in new clothes, lying in his bed with a content smile on his face. Perhaps trapping a good friend of his isn’t as complicated as he thought it would be.

Chapter Text

“Alright, I’ll see you all sometime later!” Chance waved at the doors of the casino. All of Mafioso’s goons were relatively calm, exchanging their goodbyes calmly, except Contractee. He was clearly holding back tears with the biggest puppy eyes, his hat barely hiding his face. “Oh, before I forget— Thanks for the pancakes, Soldier! You don’t understand how delicious they were...”

Contractee sighed, continuing with his frown. “Do you really hafta go? You can’t, like, stay as a forever guest?”

“If it’s a ‘forever guest,’ then it’s not a guest anymore.” Capo unamusedly corrected him, crossing his arms like he didn’t care... but obviously Chance’s scarily good eyes caught him frowning, too. 

“Yeeeaaah, I’ve also got things to attend to, just like Donni over here! Right?” Chance playfully walked over to Mafioso and nudged his shoulder, tipping down their shades like seeing their eyes was a regular day thing.

No! No it wasn’t! Despite how bright the casino was with all its flashy lights and near-white surroundings, their irises were pitch black! Just about as dark as Mafioso’s work clothes! Not a single beam of light reached or reflected! None at all!

... But Mafioso’s known this dumbass for a good while. Their eyes have just naturally looked like an innocent deer’s since forever. They try their best to be as expressive as possible so that no misunderstandings are made. That’s just how they act, and it’s been that way for a long time. “Yes,” he hastily replied and nodded his head.

“Aw, come on! It’s a Saturday, no need to get so professional! You don’t got any work on weekends, do you?” Chance grinned and put their shades back in place. “I’d feel so, so bad for you if that were the case. Or are you just constantly in work mode?” 

All the words were robbed from Mafioso’s mouth, so he just sighed and smiled, lovingly gazing— humorously rolling his eyes at Chance with a smile. He didn’t have anything to do on Saturdays and Sundays, Chance was right. But he was already beginning to grow impatient for Chance’s next visit. They always come over and stay a little longer on weekend nights. It’s become tradition. They’d even get a free drink sometimes.

“Haha, see? I knew it.” Chance glanced at his phone, practically exploding with text messages, and got off Mafioso. “Aight, I really gotta head out now. Thanks for allat last night and this morning, guys! I’ll be seein’ you later!” He saluted with the same toothy grin and walked out the shiny casino doors, only leaving a small bell jingle as he departed for heaven knows what. 

Mafioso chuckled, then paused as soon as he heard a sniffle. He blinked twice and dropped the smile, standing like a character waiting to give quests. He tried to breathe through his nose again, and to his surprise, that sound was from him! His gloved hand met the side of his neck, and BOY was it on fire.

Consigliere didn’t seem to take Mafioso’s silent shock very lightly. “Boss, you alright? You’re, er, snifflin’ n’ stuff. Are ya sick or sumn’? We can take your job if you continue to feel like dat over the weekdays.” He got closer, putting a finger to his chin while deep in thought. The other three had already left.

“A minor setback.” Mafioso put his hand just below his nose, trying to cover all parts of his face without seeming like he was trying to hide a sickness. ‘I will be fine. I appreciate your concern, Consigliere.” Curse the rain. Curse that goddamn rain. He would have been fine if it hadn’t been for the thunderstorm he had walked through to the casino!

Okay, maybe half the blame can be on him. He did choose to walk through the rain without a hood or umbrella. But it’s not his fault that the thunderstorm kept taunting him with lightning.

“If you insist, then.” Consigliere lowered his head a little and bowed. “Please tell us if ya feel any worse at any time. Yer health is import’nt, too.” Mafioso was already trying to decide if he should tell Consigliere that he felt like absolute shit or keep his mouth shut. For now, because he didn’t want to worry Chance when they came back, he decided to stay silent about it. He simply bowed back and headed to his room.

The curtains were thin, allowing the sun to very faintly light up the room around the window. Everywhere else, like the opposite corners, was dark. It was just the right amount of light and dark for him, especially since he constantly lurked in the darkness for debt collecting. He’s just grown comfortable with it. 

Mafioso lay on his bed again, this time on top of the covers and not-as appropriately dressed for bed(he was still in his suit and all). Honestly, a nap would probably do wonders for his health right now, but he can’t just leave the Mafialings (he’s secretly nicknamed them that. Cute, right?) alone, because Lord knows if they can manage the casino without his help. 

Can they de-escalate angry gamblers? And possibly avoid getting hurt while doing so? And escort anybody out? And tell when to give any other miscellaneous workers, like the bartender, a break? And give themselves a break? And empty the slot machines’ money and tickets by the end of the day? And— Maybe he should get his lazy ass off the bed and downstairs if he’s gonna be this concerned for them. 

He got up from his bed and immediately started seeing colors undiscovered to the human eye as his head swirled a billion times over, like he got it completely redone—the agonizing punishment of getting up too quickly. Mafioso slid back into his boots and headed out the door, letting the golden lights above force his eyes to adjust to their brightness, and took a turn away from the elevator to a room labeled ‘Bunnies,’ the paper sign handcrafted and drawn by the Mafialings (as shown by the signatures on the bottom).

“Hey there, little guys.” Mafioso smiled with genuineness as he walked up to the enormous cage on a table for a white and fat black bunny. He always knew they would need more from the sun than he did, so, like the caring, gentle soul he is, he put them in a separate room so they could properly get what they needed.

The hinges creaked as the cage’s door opened, letting the rabbits happily hop towards his hand offering pets. “How’s your little friend, Gubby? Is she treating you well? Is she taking up too much space?” Mafioso joked as he continued to pet the white rabbit’s head, then moved on to petting the black rabbit. “I apologize that I haven’t given you a name quite yet. It took me a long time for Gubby’s name, so I’m hoping it will take a shorter time for you, little one.” He shifted his hand from the rabbit’s back to the forehead, smiling even more as he watched the bunny.

He glanced at their separated food bowls and figured he should fill them up again. They looked like they were licked clean. Or maybe the black rabbit stole half of Gubby’s food... that would explain why she was so humungous. The thought of the bunny gently pushing Gubby over for more food warmed something in his heart as he grabbed the bag of food, slowly tearing it open and pouring it into their bowls. 

Usually, he’d leave after doing that, but he decided to stay just this once. Just to see how these cuties ate. To nobody’s surprise, the black bunny did end up taking the remaining half of the white bunny’s food, upsetting the other. Gubby angrily stomped at the darker rabbit, the darker one being unfazed and possibly proud of herself. He did it again, this time harder. No reaction at all. Maybe he needed to separate them for now?

... He ended up having to separate them. But now, Mafioso was tiredly on the first floor, leaning against the right wall, watching his goons travel everywhere, seemingly doing a fantastic job. He’d walk around, but every step he took would make his brain feel like it was lagging. And he felt awfully sleepy. Perhaps I should have taken that slim chance to get some rest... he thought, rubbing his forehead and still feeling that same fire across his face through the glove. “It is only a minor setback,” he mumbled and got off the wall, standing straight as he adjusted his fedora. “I will not let this slow down anything.”

The hours blurred together, the bright and vivid surroundings giving him a headache he definitely wouldn’t forget for about two weeks or so. Every new and old visitor who walked through the doors had familiar faces, but at the same time, they felt like strangers. Every time the bell atop the entrance rang, he threw his head up and lowered it back down, not seeing the specific one he wanted to see that night.

How later would ‘later’ be? A day? A week? Definitely not a month. 

There were already three angry people successfully escorted out by Soldier and Capo the entire day, one having thrown a fit and grazing a fist against a fellow gambler. Contractee was checking in on the others, sometimes monitoring the ongoing table games and ensuring nobody was cheating. Consigliere was flipping between checking on the other workers and Mafioso himself, although always denying anything that Consigliere pointed out made him seem sick, like his almost extremely red cheeks and how he could practically feel him radiating heat. He even got Mafioso some lunch and dinner just to make sure. 

Mafioso is not ill. Especially not when he’s waiting on Chance. He can tough it out. Besides, it’ll definitely fade away when he sleeps it off. 

The casino finished closing, helping the last drunk gambler out the door and having Soldier and Capo accompany him so he stayed safe until his ride (or at least a taxi) came by. Contractee and Consigliere were cleaning up the mess, denying Mafioso any assistance with their job until they were completely done.

“You four did a wonderful job today.” Mafioso’s voice was low, but not low enough to have it fall on deaf ears, and he clapped his hands. “Although I am unsure why you prevented me from assisting you.”

The two stared at each other, then at him, like he was missing out on some inside joke and being actively ostracized. “Boss, go get sum rest. We just wanted to pay you a lil’ favor!” Contractee smiled.

“A favor for what?”

“... Er.” He paused, putting his hands in his pants pocket and slightly rocking back and forth on his heels. “Boss we know you’re—”

“BUSY!” Congisliere slapped a hand across Contractee’s mouth and continued his sentence with the wrong words. “We know yer busy waiting for Chance, and havin’ you be distracted by the people around this place and possibly miss the chance— heh— to see Chance immediately could annoy you, so we thought we’d take over for the day! And, well...” He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand and had a nervous face. “As we all have definitely noticed, he hasn’t visited yet.”

Mafioso knew what Contractee was about to say was ‘sick’ or something like that, but he decided to play with Consigliere’s little game with a smile. “Oh mio Dio, you bunch are very kind. Thank you. I will make sure you will not need to do this again, just to give you a break. Speaking of which, how were your jobs?”

Contractee’s mouth was just a little more force away from having it ripped off his face. “They were fairly easy, Boss! At some moments, though, I see why you have us help you occasionally!”

“Haha, I know. I appreciate you four for your hard work tonight. I will be sure to order some pizza for you all.” He nodded and messily patted Consigliere and Contractee’s hats, ensuring he frizzed their hair up at least a little. “You may go upstairs whenever you’d like. I will be in my room.” Mafioso soon was in the elevator and disappeared behind the metallic doors.

“... Contractee, what were you THINKING?!” Consigliere finally let go of his mouth and screamed as soon as the doors closed. “If we even mention that we know Boss is absolutely sick, we goin’ to DIE!”

“Ouuww...” Contractee groaned and covered his lips, feeling them practically throb. “You’re exaggerating! He’s not gonna kill us! In fact, he appreciates it when we try to protect him or whateva! We’re gonna get pizza, too, so we’re fine!” 

He dropped his arms and stood straight as he stared right at Contractee, trying to understand what he just said. “I mean... I guess you have a point. For now. I’m not lettin’ ya off that easily.” 

“See? I told ya we’re fine.”

Mafioso was not fine, however. He knew how to fall asleep almost instantly, but this night, he was tossing and turning no matter how comfortable he got. At one point, his limbs looked like spaghetti. He can sleep it off. 

At least, if he ever does.

... The following morning, Mafioso felt a little less shitty than last night. He was still burning to hell, sure, but his nose was already so much better than before. Maybe Chance secretly and telepathically blessed him or something? Does that mean they’re coming over today?

Ah, wait, his pizza promise. Maybe he can order it now and save it for lunch or dinner for the Mafialings. If only a coin were here, he could decide which meal to save some succulent, delicious, mouth-watering... pizza...

He’s ordering it now.

Mafioso had the number on a sticky note in his nightstand drawer and dialed it with his phone.

“Builder Brother’s Pizza, how may I help you this morning?” A cheery voice came from the other side, and the faint noise of a few people and relaxing music accompanied them. 

“Yes, I’d like—” Mafioso’s voice cracked and sounded hoarser than a... horse. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, no problem! Take your time.”

He cleared his throat and held the phone to his ear again. “I’d like to order a pepperoni pizza with cheese-stuffed crust?” Nobody ate the crust except for Capo, for some odd reason, but he supported that. Perhaps he liked the fillings more than the others.

“Alright, I got that in. Would you like any drinks?”

“No, thank you.”

“Got that. So all you’re getting for today is a pepperoni pizza with cheesy crust?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, will it be dine-in or to-go? Or would you like it delivered?”

“Delivered, please.”

“Gotcha! That’ll be seven Tix once the delivery person arrives! We got your location already, so it should be quick!”

“Thank you.”

The phone call ended, and he sat back on the bed, not bothering to try kicking his boots off. Phone calls are hard. Why can’t he just send waves from his brain to request for somebody far away to do something? That would make pizza ordering much easier. But then again, he already looks intimidating as hell, so there’s no reason for him to be afraid. There is obviously one for anybody meeting him for the first time, especially when he’s collecting people’s debt.

It was another busy day, although it’s safe to say that the morning and afternoon hours were much easier than at night. People were rambunctious and wild near midnight, and people in the morning would be there for a minute or two and leave. I mean, this casino isn’t only famous for its gambling; it’s also got the highest quality drinks.

Soon enough, a pizza deliveryman arrived at the doors, wandering around cluelessly, unsure where or to whom to deliver the pizza box. But Consigliere came up to him, one hand full of dishes of glasses. “Uhh... P-Pizza for Don... Sonnellino? Am I saying that right?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” He nodded and immediately took note of the delivery boy’s face. “Don’ worry about me! I can hold dat pizza real well.”

“If... you say so.” The yellow man struggled to pull a card reader from his satchel and set it on the box. “If you’ve got a card or can call someone over for you, then insert it here.” He pointed to the card reader.

“Aight! I got mine right ‘ere, in m’ vest pocket.” Consigliere stumbled around trying to reach into his pocket, but eventually got his card out and inserted it into the reader, successfully paying and taking the pizza off the delivery guy’s hands. “Thanks, uh...” His eyes went to the person’s nametag pinned on his bright red shirt. “Thanks, Elliot!” He grinned as he took the box out of Elliot’s hand easily, and with his other free hand.

“No? Problem?” Elliot stammered as he walked out of the casino, still overwhelmed by the building’s loud noises and bright lights.

The goons were running around again, trying to serve everybody possible and de-escalating any issues that worked themselves up. Consigliere occasionally checked up on Mafioso, ensuring he was ‘watching the door for Chance and not getting distracted.’ 

But Chance never visited that day or night, either. If sensing a person from far away was possible, he couldn’t even sense Chance walking by or in another building fairly close. Mafioso was getting worried sick, and it’d only been two days without seeing his best friend.

So, as soon as the casino closed, he headed for the door. His hand reached to pull the handles, but—

“Boss, where ya goin’?” Capo looked up at him with curious... sunglasses? And grabbed onto Mafioso’s wrist firmly enough to startle him. “Da casino just entered closing hours, and you’re gonna leave just like dat? Not even gonna stay to share a slice of pizza with us? I know yer gonna look for Chance, but please? I don’t think we ever seen you eat.”

Mafioso remained frozen, staring back at Capo like he was slowly processing the words. After a few awkward minutes of silence, he sighed and finally responded. “Fine. I can stay for one slice for you four.”

The Mafialings cheered and threw a few coins like confetti, yelping when the money hit their heads and shoulders. “Make sure ya eat slow!” Capo, much unlike himself, ran to the others and sparkled a wink towards Mafioso as they grabbed the fresh (well, relatively fresh; it got microwaved) pizza out of the box on a table and sat around, saving a seat for Mafioso.

... Soon enough, Mafioso stood outside the casino doors, leaning against the cold, brick wall against his back, on his phone. He was moving his thumb at insane speeds through his contacts, scrolling back up and down like a detective on a dropped case with impossible hope. 

He swore he had Chance’s contact information. They’re the only one with a singular emoji at the start of their name. He didn’t have many numbers due to being relatively isolated. But... at last. Mafioso finally found Chance’s damn number in his contacts list.

‘🎰 Chance’

How did they get so buried in the six people he could digitally contact? How did they even meet again? Who the hell cares about that? Mafioso was concerned about Chance’s strange absence for the past two days and nights and had to act now so he wouldn’t feel like throwing up. Metaphorically.

‘Chance’ 

‘Chance where are you. Youve been gone the whole weekend’

No response. It’d already been, like, what—three minutes after he sent those messages? Guess he’d have to resort to calling him.

The ringtone was annoying. It was set by Chance himself, and he giggled when he had Mafioso test it for the first time. But that’s what’s so nice about this fuckass ringtone—it was chosen by Chance alone, and he attached that gray man to this stupidly irritating song. Cherry Pop was the title, and its ‘cover art’ was... bright. Bright shades of pink, red, and blue, yet there were no words. It felt like some words belonged here and there, so it might have had the vocals removed.

The ringtone finally ended, and Mafioso’s heartbeat took a whole trip to Brazil and back twice. “Hiya, if you’re hearing this, I’m probably pretty busy doin’... whatever. I dunno! I do a lot of stuff. So leave a little message for lil ol’ me after the—’

Mafioso immediately smashed the end call button with his finger, frustrated and sliding down the wall. He’ll just go find Chance for himself, then.

... Wait. Why is he so anxious over a dumbass like him?

Because he could have probably thrown himself into another problem! They do that all the time! Seriously, just last week, he had to practically drag Chance out of getting beaten up by some backstreet gang! So he has ALL rights to be worried.

Although it was freezing outside. He could see a cloud of his breath in the air, so that was his sign. For some reason, Mafioso’s always packed in seventeen layers of clothing, so he never really... feels the cold. 

Guess he’s going out to find Chance again. 

Mafioso began down the sidewalk, almost jogging with the anxiety strengthening his legs for this moment. He had no idea where he was going, but he felt like Chance would... maybe be at the rivaling casino. Perhaps they wanted to test another casino nearby and got carried away. Or they got beaten up at the casino! Or on the way to the casino! Or—

“Oof—” Mafioso and the person he’d bumped into yelped upon crashing into each other like a car crash. The person had long, silky yellow hair and a scarily tall crown. 

“Watch where you’re going, hoe.” The man scowled and walked away, coldly scoffing and attempting to hit Mafioso with his abnormally long cape that looked like it should be dragging on the concrete and littered with dirt, but wasn’t. 

Now, look. Mafioso would apologize even if the person were no longer in earshot. He looked threatening, but he was quite the gentleman outside of work. But this guy was an absolute fucking jerk unworthy of unheard and quick forgiveness. So he remained silent, brushed any of the man’s atoms off his shoulder, and resumed his almost-blind walk through the city. He had the directions up on his phone, but he’d never been to certain places, making it partially blind travel. 

“Turn left in zero-point-four miles,” his phone said as he looked ahead. Looking over the buildings, he could already see the other casino’s bright, vivid lights amongst the dull, monochrome surroundings, the sight making him cough a bit.

Mafioso canceled the map’s directions, already knowing his final move to the flashy building, and stuffed the phone into his jacket pocket.

... The sign was far too bright for him to read. He sighed, making sure his fedora was positioned right, and headed through the luxurious, glass double-door, feeling how cold the metallic push plate was through his glove. Seriously, how heightened were his senses now that he’s in a slightly weakened state?

Very, apparently. Because the instant he opened those doors and closed them, he could feel his rabbit ears twitching under his hat at the elevated, amplified volume of people in every direction going haywire in such an expected way. Every day, at any casino possible, there’d always be a bunch of people yelling, screaming, and shouting everywhere. But Mafioso never thought it’d be this loud in this specific place!

A few eyes were already cast on him from how outlandish he appeared compared to the rest of the building; he was in his work clothes, looking bulky and whatnot, while the people around looked like the average citizen you’d find on the sidewalks, either strolling or with a money jar on the ground. He was also in the tallest boots he was legally allowed to wear during work (The soles were about three inches thick), making him distinctly tall, so... yeah.

He uneasily strolled through the crowded floor, trying to squeeze through some people as he kept looking for Chance over the machines. Not many people were gray like him, so he’d be easy to spot. However, he was nowhere. Like, at all.

So his next resort was to ask an employee. “Ex— Pardon me.” He didn’t want to sound sick, but he wanted to seem scary to get this small talk done with. “Would you happen to have seen a gray guy with shades and a fedora similar to mine? I’m looking for him.”

“Yes, his name is Chance...” So they’re well known here? “... and his mother and father own this casino. I believe he would be on the second floor in a reserved room for a game of War.” They have reservation rooms? For basic games like War? Unless that was a requested game by whoever Chance is playing against in this... overwhelming casino, then reservation rooms are unnecessary.

Great, now he’s the one critiquing a person’s family-owned casino.

Mafioso went up the stairs, trying to find which room Chance could be in. Thankfully, there were gigantic windows in the rooms so that he could peer into—

... He definitely already has his answer. Many people, maybe 20, were gathered up by one of the rooms’ windows, excitedly cheering. Chance had to be in there, right? He’s definitely well-known in his own place. Right???

The door to the room was locked, judging by how much one of the people tried to lockpick it, and every wall was quite frankly empty. Even though the large crowd bunched up, he could faintly see Chance leaning back in a chair with the same cocky smile, his cards turned face down. Of course, he’d be so confident in a luck-based game. Mafioso glared through the glass like he wanted to melt it clean off. That’s the one thing he loves showing off; his crazy luck... He couldn’t help but sigh with a gentle smile on his face. That guy was always so foolish... yet so foolishly fortunate. It’s almost like Lady Luck herself was at Chance’s feet.

Chance laughed through the window, the crowd cheering as they swiped all eight cards to his side, leaving the challenger with but one card left. Seems like that guy didn’t wanna give up.

Thankfully, the challenger had their back to the window— they held their card to their face, allowing some people behind the glass a glance at the card—two of spades. Everybody was now groaning in sympathy for the challenger, because Chance heartily laughed once more and snatched the card right from their hand before it was even fully set down.

After a couple of minutes, Chance was already out the door and being swarmed by his fans. “Chance,” Mafioso muttered into their ear, his eyes basically pleading but hidden by the shadow his hat cast. “Where were you all weekend...?” He prodded them on their shoulder to get their attention through the explosion of people.

“Oh—!” Chance yelped and chuckled uneasily upon seeing Mafioso tower over literally everybody. “Don! S-Sorry, I don’t think I can, uh, explain in a loud place like this—!” They were getting shoved around for whatever reason and had to squeeze themselves out of the crowd. “I can tell you on the rooftop. It’s much calmer and quieter there. Of course, we don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”

“Rooftop, please.” 

“Rooftop it is!” They cheered and led him to an elevator. The ride was relatively peaceful and long.

The night sky was beautiful. The stars danced with one another, not a single cloud to deny them the right to show the world their beauty. The moon shone gloriously, like a ballet dancer stuck in the middle of the most graceful leap. Darkness was always comforting to Mafioso— especially at night. Things just seemed to slow down and give him room to breathe. 

In this kind of lighting, he felt much more free to wind down around Chance.

Chance leaned on the railing, removing his shades and flipping the same coin. “Now that we’re in a nicer place, I can tell you why I wasn’t at your casino all weekend.”

“Please do.” Mafioso joined him on Chance’s side, gazing into his dark eyes with a tender smirk on his mouth.

“Do you know what staying over unexpectedly plus strict parents does to a grown ass man like me?” Chance returned the gaze. “It equals a buncha unnecessary drama. ‘You need to tell us this,’ ‘You could have gotten hurt that,’ and I remain unscathed and safe.” He chuckled, catching the coin mid-air and turning to the sky. “Seriously, I dunno why they don’t trust you or even me at all. I literally live in a sick apartment by myself. I’ve known you since forever. We’re grown men who can think for ourselves. They’re old hags.”

“That’s quite the harsh way to say they’re old people, il mio interesse.”

“Oh, you flatter me!” Chance shook their head and flapped their hand like they were shooing away Mafioso’s little compliment. “But, back on topic... I just kinda wish they went easier on me. They’ve been like that towards me since I was a kid. Always wanting the best for me yet never giving me real experiences,” they scoffed. “Now look at me. Living my life with my adrenaline constantly pumping when it needs to, letting Lady Luck carry me! This is luxury!”

The moonlight complemented Chance’s whole body and outfit well. It illuminated their set-down shades and tie so perfectly, flawlessly showing the contour of his face. It made their white, somewhat unbuttoned dress shirt glow like the stars, their pearly white teeth beaming like they could show emotions. It even looked like some of the glow reached their abyss-like eyes, going off of the slight increase in brightness he saw.

And Chance could say the same about Mafioso. His rabbit brooch shone with the moon. They could see more of Mafioso and why he always seemed so bulky. He wore a gigantic blazer as a cape—an obvious detail, but worthy of being noted— and then another blazer that crinkled perfectly against his elbows and a darker vest wrapped around his torso and chest ever so gracefully. The tie Mafioso tucked in seemed to yearn for the moonlight, judging from how little of the light it got.

“They have been fairly strict with you.” Mafioso nodded after a long while of shared, silent observation. “I remember once when they did not allow you to go outside with me to a newly-opened cafe because it was less than fifty degrees.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of that.” Chance rolled his eyes and giggled, his voice crackling on the last few words. “I had three jackets on, too! It’s like they’re insane!” He nudged at Mafioso’s arm with their elbow. “Maybe I shoulda snuck out hiding in your huge jacket-cape.”

Just the thought of Chance getting close to him was enough to shut him up with the biggest smile ever. Sure, they looked ridiculous, but it was endearing to him. He liked how utterly stupid and idiotic Chance could get. Just not when their lack of intelligence got them in trouble. “Heh, perhaps.” 

The cold was starting to get to Mafioso again, making him cough and try to sniffle silently. The sounds caught Chance’s attention, clearly telling Mafioso that his attempts to hide his weakness failed miserably.

“You alright? You sound terrible.” Great. Just fantastic.

“I’m sure I’m—”

“Yeah, right. Come on. I’m driving you to your casino.”

Mafioso couldn’t do anything but sigh and comply, as going against Chance would result in him getting carried. Believe me, Chance is scarily strong. Besides, he’d like to have Chance with him a little longer... even if it meant publicly showing the physical state he’s in. He’ll gladly sacrifice that for company. Chance is cool.

Maybe they could eat the pizza leftovers together and talk more about how stupid weird Chance’s parents are.

Chapter Text

Mafioso could barely make sense of where he was. He felt warm and definitely lighter, but that’s probably from how groggy he was. You never know how lightheaded a simple sickness can make you. It must have caused Mafioso to pass out for God knows how long, maybe even overnight, as if he were getting proper sleep. 

He started moving around, trying to get an idea of where he could possibly be. Thick layers of fabric covered him, maybe with cotton or something else stuffed in it— was he in his bedroom?

It took him a few minutes—like, five at most—to pry his eyes open, and he immediately got blasted by the sun’s harmful rays. Right in his face. Fantastic.

But that’s weird. Mafioso usually has the curtains shut, like barricading a door. So why was there... 

“Oh, you’re awake.” A voice called from his door, practically shattering his eyelids off his vision and whipping his head to find the source of the sound. “Heya, Donni. You remember anything from last night?” Just hearing the voice again made his rabbit ears twitch.

What. Was Chance doing in his house. So early in the morning. “What are you—”

“Answer my question first, and then I’ll answer yours.”

“... No.”

“Well, as soon as you got in my car and I threw you a blanket from the back, you blacked out. I had to carry you—and either you’re really light or I’m really strong—to your room. Your guys helped me know more ‘bout you so I know how to watch over you while they take your job for you.” He went behind the door and wheeled out a luxurious, fancy bus cart with a shit ton of hot-n-ready food for Mafioso. “The goons prepared all this for you before they went wild out there!”

So all of the Mafialings knew about his sickness... He thought he at least hid it well from Caporegime. Guess not. “So... are you going to answer my question now, gambler?”

“I just did. They told me to watch over you while they did your job.” Chance began to stare into Mafioso’s now visible eyes. Nobody got to see them, usually since Mafioso always insisted on keeping his hat no matter the situation. However, Chance’s smartass took the hat off while he was sleeping and saw how... scarily bright red they were.

But they were a shade of red that made him happy. His eyes were red like rubies. Red like the three big sevens on a slot machine. Red like cherries. Red like Chance’s lucky poker chip colors. Red like the hearts and diamonds on playing cards. Red like Chance’s favorite color. 

“Chance, you’re staring. Is there—”

“PAH!!! S-Sorry! Guess I just took a power nap right then and there...!” Good thing Chance’s eyes were covered by his— Wait, how did Mafioso—? “Nothing’s wrong. I can assure you that! Now... uh... it’s morning. You’re gonna eat breakfast.” 

That’s something new, Mafioso thought. He’d skip breakfast on work days for the goons since he took a little longer than them to eat. He’d also just take whatever leftovers are sitting there, so having some fresh food for him on a weekday was something else. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“Here, a spoon. I already got some of the soup for you, so you better take it.” Chance’s hand was in front of Mafioso’s face, holding a spoon with soup in it like a sacrifice.

“... I have to work, I can’t—”

“I’m being nice and letting you have an option right now, Donni.”

“Seriously, Chance, I—”

“You are not going to work in your condition. You look like a sick kitten that’s been kicked around in the rain.”

“Let me go—”

“I will literally tie you to your bed if I have to.”

Well... if Chance had the strength to carry Mafioso up a couple minutes of traveling in the elevator... he shouldn’t argue. Chance could definitely wrestle him down onto the bed and keep him there. 

Mafioso sighed, sitting back down in bed and weakly holding the covers up to his chest, glaring at Chance like he could stop time and throw a billion knives with a simple stare. His legs were beginning to get cold, anyway. That was a terrible ten seconds.

“Thank you for accepting the rest you need, Donni.” Chance sighed as well and smiled softly, holding the spoon again, tilting his head like he insisted on such an embarrassing act like this.

“You’re... welcome... I can take the spoon now. You may sit there and just watch.” Mafioso mustered up all his strength to readjust himself in his bed and reached his arm out.

... His entire arm felt like it was going numb in all ways possible. It felt like he was trying to use literal horse power to lift it up but failed.

Chance was sitting there, in a stool, smiling as he watched Mafioso’s arm continuously rise up by the slightest inch but go limp last second. “You were saying?”

Mafioso swore he could have also worked up a singular tear in the corner of his eye as he stared at Chance again with a slight frown. He let his arm give up and sank into the blanket, still allowing his head to see the outside of the warmth below so he could just eat. “Don’t make it embarrassing for me, Chance.”

“Oh, please. It’s just the two of us, it’s not like anybody’s gonna see this! I made sure of that. Really good sure of that.” They moved the spoon a bit, blowing on the soup as it was still smoking. “The bowl’s getting cold...!” they sang. Were they mocking him?

“You’re so annoying...” Mafioso grumbled and rolled his eyes, leaning forward a little bit for the spoon. 

... “Here, last one.” Chance held the spoon again, letting Mafioso eat and set it back in the empty bowl. “Any headaches or something like that?”

Mafioso began to shake his head, but alakazam! A headache suddenly showed itself! It felt like it was piercing through the top of his nose bridge and stabbing right into his eye sockets, forcing him to stop and have to process the pain he just experienced. 

“I’ll take that as a no?” They tilted their head, unsure of what Mafioso’s face was trying to communicate.

His jaw wanted to stay glued shut, but he had to somehow say something. “Headache,” he barely muttered. 

“So you do have a headache?” Mafioso nodded. “Alright. I’ll get you some pills for that.” Chance began to dig through the lower part of the cart, moving around a bunch of bottles of medication prepared by the goons. “God, where did they— Aha! There it is!”

Mafioso was growing curious at what he was trying to do other than retrieve some medication to help make his god awful headache tolerable. Chance closed the curtains for him and even sat closer to see if that’d ease the pain a little, which it did, but not enough. “Here.” They held a small, white pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Just take this and then drink some water to help it go down easier. 

And so he followed. His throat still felt like shit, but that’s fine. One agonizing complication at a time. At least he regained the strength to move around— the blanket was already slipping off of him. The headache would be gone in a little bit, and everything else stayed the same. His nose was still stuffy, he was still literally on fire, and he could hardly speak without needing to either cough or clear his throat and then cough. That’s still fit enough to go to work, right? “I’ll go now—”

“You are staying right here.” Chance smoothly commanded and gently pushed Mafioso back into position. “You are not leaving this casino until you are one-hundred percent better.”

“And what will I do if the Mafialings get in trouble? Just lie here and suffer?”

“They’re not gonna get in trouble, they know what they— ‘Mafialings?’” They repeated, raising their eyebrow. “Wait. Don’t tell me you nicknamed them that.”

Mafioso stared at Chance for the billionth time in a row with eyes that spoke numerous, similar sounding messages about excuses on how it fit the four. “Y... Yes. I called them that. Don’t tell them.”

“D’aww, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” It obviously wasn’t in the context of how often Chance would bring up how cute of a nickname Mafioso’s given them, but definitely safe in the context of not telling a soul. “I think it’s a cute nickname for guys like them. Maybe in your position, giving them nicknames would be irresistible.” Chance brought their hand up to pat Mafioso’s head, to which he gladly let them— Wait, WHAT?

Chance’s arm stopped halfway. They didn’t think they’d get this far. He’s being allowed to pet the big scary mafia boss! What the hell?! Maybe it’s just the sickness that’s making Mafioso delusional-ish? But he seemed to really want it... Maybe he still isn’t aware that his hat is literally on the nightstand next to the bed.

Would Mafioso, hypothetically, act like an actual rabbit? The urge to scratch behind those rabbit ears of his was growing faster than his growth spurt at 15. But he resisted. “Alright, Donni. Go get some rest now.” Chance got off the stool and began to head for the door, pushing the cart with—

“At least stay, Chance.” Mafioso rolled over to his side, looking at Chance with the biggest, saddest eyes ever. They didn’t even look threatening anymore, just endearing as his ears drooped down in front of his face. “I feel like shit,” he grumbled.

They stared at each other, one yearning for the other’s company and the other unsure of what to do. Chance had to check up on the goons—well, he could do that inside as well— and check up on the employees in the casino—but some higher-up can do that— but he’s starting to run out of excuses he could possibly make. 

“... Chance...?” Mafioso weakly called out again. Was he staring at Donni again? Oh. My God. “Are—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m staying.” He groaned in a joking manner, displaying a little smile just so Mafioso knew he was just poking fun at him. Chance plopped down onto the stool again, carefully watching Mafioso as both their minds wandered.

He’d never seen Mafioso so vulnerable like this before. It was like seeing a usually ruthless unidentifiable beast letting themselves get tamed by the most beautiful, innocent girl from a garden with an unbreakable need to show kindness. Except Mafioso wasn’t as murderous as Chance imagined his example to be, just... cold. Not in a terrible or manipulative way, he just constantly appeared distant. And yet he let Chance get as close as possible every single time they hung out together.

With a final flutter of his eyelashes, Mafioso fell into a deep nap. He left his still gloved hands slightly curled up at a distance from his face, maybe to act like there was something he could latch onto for comfort. Seeing him fallen asleep was... a different thing for Chance. Every night they hung out and stayed together overnight, Chance would always be the first to fold into sleep, always on the super cool bed bench and Mafioso would have to cover him in the fluffiest blankets. But this time... just this time... Mafioso was the first to fall asleep.

It was like sitting in front of a fireplace after a long day in the middle of the snowiest December. The sight lit a match on the inside and slowly warmed him up, no blanket necessary. Just seeing something relaxing got him relaxed. The warm tint of orange against the walls and ceiling was like a hug from warmth itself. Pair that with a cup of chamomile tea and the best smelling candle ever and you have the best atmosphere to let yourself let go of every worry in the world.

That was how fluffy Mafioso’s soft side made him feel. Seeing a grown, distant man like him finally relax and asleep just made Chance stare even more. His face was gentle, his body following the rise and fall of his breath and rabbit ears occasionally twitching.

Speaking of those ears, Chance’s never known he’d had those before. And they’re just now learning this? Now he’s even cuter! They looked so FLUFFY! God! He seriously needs to try petting that man just to see if he’d react like a rabbit! Or at least when he’s awake to get the ideal reaction... What the hell, it’s so adorable...! Chance gushed in their head. Nobody could resist rabbits— if they could, they were not human— with their big beady eyes and fluffiest bodies and cutest ears!

But now’s definitely the time to observe more physical things about Mafioso just to get a gist of what was going on with him. This will be so much easier without his hat covering half his face.

Upon just looking at him, they could already notice the several layers of eyebags and numerous shades of dark circles under his eyes. When was the last time this man actually got some sleep? Simply seeing the poor man’s state from only his eyes was saddening. Has Mafioso ever actually taken some time off to take care of himself?

His hair was disheveled to hell. It got in his face, some thick and thin strands stood up, other strands on the pillow peeked out from under his head, and some draped over his neck. Now, having curly hair was one thing. It’s what Chance had. But Mafioso’s was wavy and slightly messy. Right now, his hair was like looking at scribbles people make to dull the point of a pencil after breaking it to get better writing! That was not normal. Hey, at least Mafioso’s black hair complements the rest of his wardrobe well. 

Chance brought a hand to Mafioso’s forehead, first with their palm and then the back of their hand. Yeah, he was heating up real bad. They could grab the thermometer the goon supplied in the cart— That’s a dumb sentence. They should grab the thermometer.

He cleared Mafioso’s forehead of any loose hair and put the tool against his skin, letting it do all the work as he sat there. 101 Fahrenheit, the thermometer read. Yeah, no, this guy definitely had a reason to say he felt like shit earlier. 

Maybe he could prepare some tea for him? But he doesn’t even know his preferred flavor or anything... Well, it can’t hurt to help a friend try new things, right? Mafioso’ll just have to deal with a new tea bag in a teacup when he wakes up. 

Or maybe Mafioso liked coffee! Or lattes! Who knows?! He’d just have to ask when he woke up. For now, water would just have to do.

Chance grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked through his messages. Last night, while he was carrying Mafioso, wrapped in a warm blanket over, his goons gave him their numbers and made a group chat just in case Chance needed to monitor Mafioso ever again. It was also a little... status update on their targets.

Contractee!!!: ‘Lol this guy tried resisting’

‘It was literally a 1v4 what was he gonna do’ And not to mention, they set in their own names in Chance’s phone. This was Contractee.

Consigliere 🎩: ‘can confirm. he kept yelling real loud’

‘maybe some people nearby heard him’ That was Consigliere.

Soldier: ‘It was a successful collecting, though.’ That... obviously was Soldier.

☆*:..｡. Capo .｡.:*☆: ‘Soldier did most of the convincing Consigliere and Contractee took it and I commanded them awesome right’ ... It was hard believing that this was Capo. Where did he even get those sparkles? I don’t think those were even built into my keyboard! Chance yelled in his head as he was stuck wondering where the kaomojis came from.

Wait, if Mafioso’s asleep, this means he’s free to wander around now— Wait, no, he’d probably wake up at any moment. Or maybe he won’t. Was he a heavy sleeper? He’s just gonna have to find out when he moves out of his stool—

“... Mmm.” Mafioso grumbled, scooting closer to the edge of his bed and moving his hand to hold on the leg of the stool. Okay. Whatever! Guess he was staying afterall! Guess Mafioso was either a light sleeper or secretly awake! Wait, secretly awake?

The bus cart was still beside Chance. He must’ve not actually brought it with him when he was about to leave. Happens all the time! Sometimes, he’ll think he’s bringing something and then lose it, and then find it in the same spot before he brought it!

Okay, maybe he didn’t wanna leave Mafioso alone. But he did want to get a drink for him... still, especially tea. It could help with his sickness, at least. It was definitely a cold, judging from all the sniffling and coughing and the fact he was in the rain for a long time and sopping wet when he came back that day.

“‘M still here, Donni. Not leaving any time soon.” He muttered, gently rubbing where Mafioso’s upper arm would be under the blanket to assure him of his presence.

“Mmm...” Mafioso’s pout slowly turned into a gentle smirk, tucking his hand back in front of him. Good lord, how comfy can this man get? Grown ass man, by the way... 

... How is he supposed to get a drink for Mafioso. One that isn’t water. Why is he still wondering about this??? This is, like, the billionth time! He should just leave the question alone for now! 

Even so, he returned his gaze from the cart to Mafioso, still out like a toy turned off. He looked so peaceful just lying there, finally getting some rest, because those eyebags are still speaking a whole essay to Chance. 

He really wanted to pet behind the rabbit ears again. It’s so tempting. Sure, there was the door labeled ‘Bunnies,’ but Mafioso would probably kill him if he even dared go in there without permission. He’s not one to assume there are actual rabbits in that room, even though the sign obviously says ‘Bunnies.’ Then again, if he were to check for himself, he’d get sniped on sight for trespassing. Plus, who comes into a house and pets somebody else’s rabbits without full permission first? Creeps, that’s who!

... It’d already been an hour or two by now. Mafioso was still sleeping, and Chance was on the verge of following suit. He’d already tried to take up some time, like walking around the room, snacking on some of the food left by the goons in the cart for him just in case, and even seeing what else the Mafialings could have said in the group chat. Nothing. Nada.

Goooooooooooooood, this was boring. It’s been so long! They’d look at the sleeping man and then the framed photo just to their right, wondering how he’s changed so much in just a few years— well, a few years being probably twenty or so, but their point still stands!

“Luce mia,” the man in question grumbled, voice cracking with exhaustion. “Would it be alright for... for you t’ stay another... night?” His eyes weren’t open as much, but Chance could see the slightest crack of Mafioso’s blood-moon eyes. 

Well... he didn’t have anything to do tonight. “Mhm. I can stay overnight again.” They didn’t smile, just made sure their expression looked benign enough to keep him at ease as he gradually woke up. “Take your time wakin’ up. Nobody’s rushing you.”

“I... still have to work...” Mafioso slowly sat upright and hung his feet off the bed, which were swiftly snatched and dragged back into place by Chance.

“You’re such a workaholic, y’know that? You’ll be fine if you take a day or two off. So stay still, jeez.” Chance groaned as he put his elbow on his thigh and rested his head on his palm, letting his fingers naturally curl up slightly to further support himself. “Again, the Mafialings are already doing wonderful at your job. No need to get so worked up worrying for them.”

“What if they—”

“No what-ifs.”

“But—”

“Or buts. Lean on the headboard.” Chance put his hand on Mafioso’s chest and carefully pushed him back. “You still gotta rest, so stop worrying! You’ll explode your poor head off if you keep stressing over something... I can assure you that your goons are perfectly fine. They’re giving me status updates. They’re still alive.”

Mafioso let them push him, sighing and letting his head fall back a bit. “I’m aware, Chance... I’m simply not used to... getting sick like this, amico mio.” He grabbed a pillow just beside him and lightly hugged it near his chest. “Thank you for staying. I appreciate it very much, Chance.”

Wow, he sure liked saying his name. “Don’t sweat it— it’s the best I can do for a long time friend. No problem, Donni.”

The best he could do for a friend.

The best he could do for a friend.

“Heeyyy, anyone in here still?” Chance knocked on the glass doors, trying his best to even walk as Mafioso shifted in his arms. Either this guy is eerily light or Chance is super fucking strong. He’d prefer the second. “Got ya boss here— Hey! Contractee!”

Contractee, the only one in sight from the door, jerked his head up to the source and squinted. “Chance?” He dropped the sack of coins and ran to the door, unlocking and opening it, his face very clearly... astonished, they could say. “What da hell did ya do wit’ our Boss?!”

“Nothing! Nothing!” He’d raise his hands like he was going to be arrested, but there was a man in his arms, wrapped up in a blanket like a baby. “He came to my casino, we hung out on the rooftop, and as soon as this guy sits in my car and I give him a blanket, he passes out cold!”

“Oohhhh...” Contractee nodded, letting all anger and fury leave his body. “Yeah, I half expected dat. The passing out, I mean. He’s been sick for a lil while. Did’ya try shakin’ him awake in the car when you came here?”

“Why do you think I’m carrying him.”

“Because you didn’t try shakin’ him?”

“No, because I DID try shaking him!”

Contractee flattened his lips and scrunched his eyebrows. “Oh. Well, dat makes sense. Guess dat’s da best a guy can do for ‘is friend.”

“Heh, yeah.” Chance immediately felt Mafioso get his face comfortable on their chest like it was a pillow as they chuckled. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. 

“Yer face’s a little weird! Did Boss do somethin’ jus’ now or what?”

They stayed silent, observing the man’s gentle yet uneasy face. “Nothing,” they replied. “Your boss’s just a nice guy.”

They hoped, in their mind, that they’d at least be friends forever. This friendship was doing so fantastic, it almost made him never wanna leave.

That’s just a him problem, isn’t it? 

Chapter Text

It’d already been a few days since Chance stayed the night with Mafioso again. His goons kept on giving Chance some status updates, this time with Mafioso added to the chat (per both parties—Chance and the Mafialings—requests). 

The following morning that day, Mafioso was about as red as his eyes. Look, he tried his best to keep his cold demeanor, but his whole face backfired that. He was still fairly sick, yes, but all the pent-up embarrassment finally showed up as soon as he saw Chance sleepily looking at their phone, leaning on the headboard, the small distance between him and Maifoso making both of them red-faced to hell once they realized each other’s awareness. It’s just that Chance calmed down quicker.

Mafioso also finally noticed his hat was on the nightstand, somehow getting even more red now that he’d realized his rabbit ears were out. Chance had to assure him that it was fine, even trying to demonstrate he almost leaned in to pet his ears, to get him to calm down.

That didn’t work as well.

So, he ended up just leaving and making sure to bid farewell loudly enough to everyone. 

Red, orange, yellow, and brown leaves were falling to an abstract rhythm determined by Mother Nature herself. The ground was covered in the most stunning patterns of leaves of all kinds—he must say, she’s quite a good conductor. And artist! Who knew? Definitely not Chance.

The streets were decently filled with people walking in every direction with their own destination, the sky painted in a vibrant and wonderful blue. Anybody outside could see anything flying above their heads as clearly as looking through a window. Speaking of the sky being bright, thank the moderation Chance actually had his shades on! His whole body was burning because the sun was directly shooting him with sunlight! But at least his eyes weren’t evaporating by the hour. That’s better than having his body not on fire and his eyes melting quicker than ice cream being cooked on fiery concrete.

He walked down the pavement in the middle, keeping his hands in his blazer pocket and staring at the ground, observing every little stone, occasionally having to readjust his glasses and hat. Okay. But bringing his thoughts back to Mafioso. Were those really bunny ears or a hallucination? Because they seemed real, that’s for sure—it’s just... Were those really bunny ears or a hallucination? And to think he’s known this guy for ages and never knew this! 

It’s adorable, though, he’ll admit that.

His phone kept buzzing in his pocket, practically vibrating like it was shaking for Chance’s attention. Which, he did end up taking it out and checking his notifications, but that was annoying. 

Contractee!!!: ‘Chance’

‘Chaaaaaaaance’

‘Chancechancechancechancechance’

☆*:..｡. Capo .｡.:*☆: ‘Please don’t spam the group chat’

Contractee!!!: ‘Oh yeah whatre you gonna do kill me on the job’

⚔ Donni ♥: ‘please stay on task men we may go on break after this one’

Contractee!!!: ‘Aw man okay Boss’

Did... they split up for a mission or whatever they had going on? Were they hunting for their target or whatever??? All Chance knew was that Mafioso and his Mafialings were debt collectors; he had no idea what they did. They could only wonder as the stone path took them to the cafe.

But wait— seeing Mafioso openly and willingly drop all punctuation and capitalization like that in a group chat with him and his goons? That was strange. At most, Chance would see him never putting periods or apostrophes. Seeing him lack all of that genuinely surprised him! Just thinking of seeing Mafioso on his little phone was adorable: just hunched up like that with a goofy smile and rabbit ears perked up through tiny holes in his fedora. Oh, Chance just couldn’t resist giggling at the thought!

Chance finally ended up at the cafe, nearly running to the doors, but skidded as he read the sign put up behind the clear glass door: ‘Opens at 9 AM on weekdays.’

Jeez. What time even was it? He glanced at his watch, seeing the simple yet fancy numbers say ‘8:25 AM.’ Seriously? The one time he actually decides to go somewhere, he’s way too early? I mean, at least it’s better than being late to something important like a family meeting or whatever.

Wait, when was the last time he’d ever been late to something?

Despite the flaming sun going directly through his shades and to his eyes, the air surrounding him was freezing, as if the air wanted him to die of frostbite.

... 

Robloxia, September 199X

“How’re the desserts?” The icy kid asked as Chance continued to dig into every plate possible.

“Mmpfh!” Chance tried to speak with their mouth full, but covered it and swallowed, and then responded. “ It’s soooo good! Thanks, iTrapped!”

The yellow child nodded, even taking a small slice of the lemon ice cream cake Chance had half devoured. “Y’know,” the kid spoke as he lifted a forkful of the cake to his mouth. “You’re the first person I’ve actually let in my basement. Everyone else gets really creeped out, saying, ‘I don’t wanna go in a basement! What if blah blah blah kills me?’ I just think they’re ridiculous! There’s no monster in any basement at all!”

“So you’re saying I’m a special friend of yours?” Chance’s eyes lit up through their shades despite the lack of any bright enough light source.

“Maybe!” laughed iTrapped as he ate the small piece of the slice he gathered. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if you really were. You get so many special privileges, like the basement and all these cool desserts! Nobody else gets those!”

Chance looked about as eager as a dog for treats. “Yeah, that’s really nice of you, iTrapped!” They took another bite from their slice of tiramisu and swiftly swallowed it. “Although your house is always really cold. I can feel the AC through my billions of layers!”

The kid scoffed jokingly and held a glass of lemonade as if it were wine. “Well, my family’s just really used to the cold. Why do you think I try to style it every day, huh?” He grinned, a small sliver of shine coming from his sharpest teeth, before downing the lemonade in one go. “If it’s gonna be a thing in your life, might as well just wear it everywhere you go! I remember as a kid, I dreamt of owning an ice palace or something... I mean, that dream’s still cool, it’s just I’m practically already living in it!”

Right. He lived in a freezing cold mansion. Of course, he’s already kind of living in an ice palace. “ITrapped, you turned thirteen at the start of the year. Don’t act like it was a billion years ago!” Chance giggled before stuffing their face with sweets again. 

“And you’re turning thirteen later this year, you’re no exception!” He laughed along with Chance, taking a final sip of his lemonade and setting it down on the table. Yes, they’ve known each other since literally birth; their parents had met each other in the hospital and became friends, thus connecting the two! Chance was just born, and iTrapped was in for a strangely high fever. 

“Aw, come on! I’m still catching up to you!”

“You can’t go forward in time or go back, Chance.” ITrapped’s tone dropped, immediately taking the light-hearted feeling of the whole area. “You can’t take back what you’ve dealt. Your hands are full of cards; cards of decisions. Ones you won’t be getting back, once you’ve laid them flat on the green felt table, for a few poker chips you’ll temporarily keep. Even once you let those cards go and review the ones you wished you dealt, you’ll have realized too late you had already lost. 

“You will regret all the good cards you’ve saved for the end. Cheaply hiding behind layers upon layers of curtains will never save you from the icicles that have formed above you.” A grin began growing from the black square covering iTrapped’s face, the square that further blocked Chance’s memory of that wretched man.

... 

Chance looked at his right hand, seeing that same gold shimmer of the coin from the rich sun, then seeing the scarily long scar that went from one side of his palm to the other. The middle of their fingers shared the same horrendous mark. The longer he looked, the longer the scar seemed to grow. It kept on twisting and deforming itself, practically making it feel like he’d lost his entire hand and was only left to deal with the pain.

The sun may have been warm, but no amount of sunlight could warm that exact— 

“Oh, hey Chance!” A voice with shiny, black sneakers and darker pants, accompanied by a most vivid red shirt, greeted. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

Elliot. It was just him. “Jus’ waitin’ for this cafe to open. I arrived a bit too early. Opens at nine.” He looked up to meet Elliot’s eyes, who had his bag still slightly unzipped and his shirt not exactly tucked in properly. “What about you?”

“I somehow managed to sleep through my obnoxiously loud alarm I set. I’m pretty late right now, so I’ll see you later?” Elliot began to walk backwards, still facing Chance as he waved.

“Uh— Sure! See you then!” They waved back, first using their right hand, then dropping it to use the other. Maybe it was time to pick up those fingerless gloves again—Hell, even better—he could try sporting a slightly different look! He did have a few cool ties and suits, so why not? He still has time, doesn’t he?

8:41 AM. Yeah, he’s got time—a little bit, at least. Chance hid the coin in his pocket again, making sure he didn’t misread the watch, and jogged to his home. 

The colors of aged cream white with a vivid orange door and a few cute potted plants set on the windowsill inside welcomed Chance almost instantly, a wave of relief overwhelming him as the familiar air of his living room filled his senses. But he had no time to relax; that cafe would be opening any time soon, and he wanted to be the first one through the door in a new snazzy outfit! 

He dug through his closet, first through the dresser, then through his hanging clothes, searching for the perfect suit. His gloves were in his desk drawer, so there’d be no problem finding them in a rush. 

Chance finally found a blazer that was calling his name like a chant. It was slightly darker, but much more tailored and rich-looking than the one he was already wearing. He quickly tossed the one he had on to his bed and tore the newer one off the clothes hanger and onto him. His tie? Ripped off and on the bed already. 

The majority of his ties were black—either that, or just really dark blue. They all almost looked identical! Chance was practically looking through them like a speed reader! 

Except for one particular tie. It was a lavish wine-red tie with intricate vine-like patterns carefully stitched onto it, clearly sticking out to his eyes. It was like finding a bunch of diamonds in a regular old mine with confirmed chances of finding nothing! 

He put it on, then ran to his bathroom and smiled at the slightly new look he had, even turning around a few times to get all angles. Damn, he was a whole sweet treat! How long did his wardrobe update take, anyway?

8:55 AM.

Shit. Only five minutes left, and the walk from his house to the cafe was about six!

Chance practically punched the bathroom door down and yanked the desk drawer open to find his gloves, hurriedly slid them on, and burst through his front door, not even bothering to take the small steps down and straight onto the pavement.

Why is he rushing to get to a cafe that’s open from 9 AM to 7 PM? Who the hell knows? He likes to try being on time when he has the chance to, no matter the situation! If there’s a specified time, there’s a deadline!

Wait, is deadline even the right word?

Who cares! He—

“AUGH—!” Chance ran headfirst into a person, taking a tumble backwards, already ruining his fancy, new suit. “My god—! I apologize so much, I was in a rush...” He quickly got up and brushed his blazer with his hands, taking extra caution to make himself look presentable even from the back, and gazed upwards to meet the person’s eyes.

“In a rush for what, Chance?” A gravelly voice spoke. Why does he keep crashing into people who know his na... 

“Donni???” Chance rubbed his eyes and blinked, expecting Mafioso to be gone as if it were just an illusion, but he stayed in place. “I thought you were working?”

Mafioso, who stood firm despite the excessive amount of force Chance accidentally put into running, nodded. “My goons and I are currently on break for now. We have been up since five.” Ah, that would explain the dark circles a little bit. “May you answer my question now, giocatore d'azzardo?”

“Oh! Uh, of course!” They exclaimed, sweat running down their face as if a marathon were happening. “I was in a rush to, um, get to a cafe early! Y-Y’know, the one that opened a few months ago?” He chuckled and let out a loud sigh, collapsing his hands to his knees and slightly crouching. “Sorry, I dunno why I’m so jumpy. How long are you on break for?”

“Until ten.”

“Hm, I see.” Chance repeatedly nodded their head, putting more pressure on their knees before lighting up with an idea most ingenious. “H-Hey, wait, I know how you can spend your break a little nicer today! How about you come with me to the cafe? Should be a new and relaxing experience for us!”

A small, tender smile grew on Mafioso’s face at the offer. “That would be nice.”

Chuckles escaped Chance’s mouth in irregular beats, letting the warm and gentle light of the sun calm him and his lungs down. “Sweet, let’s go then...“ He tried to get up from his painfully awful posture, but his elbows felt like they were getting pierced with the world’s biggest sword. “Haah... After I catch my breath.”

“I understand. Please take your time; I do not want you getting hurt.” Ugh, Donni’s so caring, and for what? For him to just be so cold? Not fair! “Also, Chance... Have you changed your appearance a bit?”

Oh, right. He changed. “Uhh...” Dammit, he shouldn’t be acting this awkward when the answer is a simple yes or no! “Yeah, haha. Wanted to try out a new part of my wardrobe for the cafe visit!” 

Mafioso smiled like he knew there was some hidden meaning behind Chance’s words, like a secret hidden behind a monstrous amount of borders. “Red looks very nice on you.” He sighed, turning around with an even wider grin and checking his watch. “We are already late. I apologize for wasting your time by bumping into you. Let’s rush?” By the time Chance looked up from the ground, Mafioso was a billion steps ahead of them.

“Huh— W-Wait!!! Not too quick, I’m still... catching my breath...!” Chance coughed out and ran after the mobster, breathing still ragged from earlier.

Did Mafioso mean it when he said he looked nice in red...? He was definitely just saying that to be nice. He can’t recall the last time he willingly tried on red. 

Besides, it was the color of that man’s favorite flower. Prickly, painful, terrible, yet such an intoxicatingly delicious shade of vivid red. Simply holding its thorny stem without caution could hurt you and leave irregular patterns of scars on your hands, from the fingertips to the wrist. It could mean the most profound love imaginable, strongest relationships, and everlasting connections, yes, but caressing it in your hand only upon first sight can hurt you to the bone. 

... “I’m glad we get to relax together, Chance. Especially on a busy day like this.” Mafioso leaned his head on his hand, his elbow resting on the table, fidgeting with the small stands that held tissues, cutlery, and other items with his other hand. “Chasing people around and yelling at them for them to pay their debt gets tiring. Always scratches my throat, and sometimes I end up almost losing my voice for a day or two.”

Chance snorted, taking their sunglasses off as the only light source was a warm, dimly lit light above their heads and the curtain wall with hardly any sun shining through. “Oh, yeah! I remember that one day you completely lost your voice!” He covered his mouth, seeing Mafioso try to pout like a kid. “I could barely even hear you! You were so embarrassed having to be quiet for a few days... that was hilarious.” They looked at the man again, seeing him with an even bigger pout. “I did feel sorry for you, though! I’m not some heartless monster... I would literally take a billion shots for you, Donni.”

Mafioso gently sighed and chuckled through his nose, finally getting rid of his pout. “I guess it was a little funny having to use text-to-speech for you to understand me in that small timeframe.” Wait... Was Mafioso genuinely laughing? Like, actually laughing? This could make it in the history books! This is a pivotal moment in history!

“Donni, you’re laughing!” Chance smiled, leaning into the table with a grin that spoke like a loving and exciting reunion. He couldn’t even remember the earliest or even the latest moment of Mafioso genuinely chuckling or whatever! “It’s been so long since I’ve heard you so happy!”

Mafioso flinched and hid his mouth with his hand, averting his eyes with a slight red tint on his face. “You just had to ruin the moment...”

“Nooo, wait, I’m sorry!” They reached out, quickly turning that smile upside-down to try coaxing him into laughing again as they cleared their throat and readjusted themself. “How about I make it up to you by ordering something for you, hm?”

“Uh-huh.” Mafioso was back to simply smirking, keeping his head in his hand. “Sounds good.”

“Well, what do you want?”

The two stayed in silence, staring at each other, waiting for the other to say something. Mafioso kept breaking eye contact like he was deep in thought, Chance gluing his eyes open just in case, in a blink, he’d be gone.

“You don’t know what’s on the menu, do you.”

“... No.”

“Well, good! Me neither; how about we check it out together, y’know?”

“Alright.” Mafioso got up first, Chance quickly following with a radiant smile, warming up the colors of the cafe just a little more. “Come on.”

“Why are you saying that like you’re the one who invited me to this place? I did that!” They giggled and stood up from their seat to a few feet away from the counter, reading off every menu item as if all of it sounded delicious to them.

Well, that wouldn’t be wrong, it’s just that those lemon squares were his immediate decision. Everything else was a scrumptious little meal, but... lemon. It was the only lemon-flavored item on the menu. And a coffee with a bunch of French vanilla creamer would do. Could he specify that here? “You pick anything yet, Donni?”

The taller man was pouting yet again despite how hidden his whole face was. “Yes. I’m just... ah, what’s the word... afraid I may accidentally scare the worker with my appearance.” 

“Whaddya want? I said I’d order for you.”

It almost looked like Mafioso was blushing, embarrassed by what he was about to say. “... Latte art.”

Chance nearly choked on their own breath as soon as those two words escaped his mouth. The mobster’s embarrassment only seemed to grow as they suffered. “N-No, don’t get so worried! I was only kinda surprised... What kinda art do you want? Like, do you want anything specific drawn or molded into it, or do you just want the basic, default drawing?”

Mafioso turned his head away even further, holding the back of his neck as he answered. “... Do you think they can do rabbits...?”

“I’m pretty sure they can do any drawing as long as it isn’t inherently inappropriate. So yeah. Is that all you’re gonna get?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then! Just sit at our table and look pretty while I order.”

Look pretty— Look? Pretty??? What in the everloving hell could they have meant by that? 

Now, Mafioso was stuck in his seat, burying his head in his hands, wondering what the fuck was Chance’s reasoning for phrasing it like that. He couldn’t have looked that good, right? It was just his plain, old work clothes, after all!

And you know what? Chance is trying to figure out why he said that as well! It messed up his order a billion times! Well, at least it looked right. Something something lemon, coffee, and latte art. Good enough. By the time he was walking back, he could already hear (and partially see) Mafioso shifting in his seat like he was a detective undercover trying to hide the fact they’re on a really hard case. Oh, boy, he was readjusting himself at insane speeds! 

“You, uh, good there?” Chance finally asked after a few seconds of watching Mafioso scramble around in a singular spot.

“Yes. I’m fine.” Yeah, that’s definitely a lie. In a funny sense, at least! “Seat just felt strange.”

“Oh, yeah, I get that a lot.” They sat down in front of him and grinned, flapping his hand once. “Sometimes it’s ‘cause you’re sitting just as weird as it feels. Once I caught myself sitting on a chair like it was my bed or sumn’!”

Mafioso snickered, raising an eyebrow under all that shadow and leaned forward on the table. “Are you sure that’s sitting, then?” he joked. 

“Uh-huh! It was some funky pose like this...” Chance’s back went to one of the arm rests and the back of their knees on the other. “Yeah, just like this!”

“Pfft—” He nearly broke his tough attitude once more, seeing the gray man in possibly the strangest pose he’d ever seen. “G-Get back to sitting normally...! Hah— What if we get kicked out before we can get our order...?”

They huffed through their nose with a smile like some mission was accomplished. “For sitting? Is finding comfort suddenly a crime now?”

An easily recognizable figure began walking down the sidewalk the two were seated directly next to, one that froze the windows in an instant in Chance’s eyes. Even the shadow the person cast on the table turned the place into a frozen castle— No, it couldn’t be...

Chance turned their head to the person like it was mandatory and coded into his nerves. 

A scowl. Eyes of disgust. A mouth bearing sharp teeth in a frown. Long, soft hair that could stab into a heart. A cape that could slap anybody who dared defy the wearer’s orders. Clothes that spoke harsh royalty. A face that crinkled with the expression they made. A tall and mighty crown of ice. Piercing blue eyes that made anybody they looked at into the owner’s servant.

Chance’s bright, laughing smile immediately turned into parted lips that let out not a single breath. Their eyes were no longer shaped narrow by a grin, but just barely wide open like they saw a memory they’d hope was repressed into the deepest oceans. 

By the time the man had passed, Chance had readjusted themself into a proper sitting pose, hands clasped together in their lap, head halfway between the window and looking at Mafioso. The silence seemed to freeze time itself, and Chance was the only one who wasn’t stopped yet wanted to fit in.

“... Chance? Did something happen?” Mafioso finally and thankfully broke that horrible moment of flooding memories with a frown. 

They finally looked the man in front of him in the eyes, weary yet torn awake. “Nah, I’m good. Just thought something didn’t look like what it shoulda been.” Why was he so concerned about them? Genuinely, what did they do to deserve to have that question asked? Because surely there was no reason for it.

“Chance.” Wow, yeah, that guy had an obsession with saying their name. “This isn’t the first time that person walked by us, and it’s certainly not the first time you’ve immediately changed upon seeing him, la mia luce—”

“For Chance!” A server yelled, the sounds of ceramic tableware clinking against the marble countertop. 

Another silence filled the air around the two as Chance got up from his seat but didn’t move any further. “... We can talk about this when you get our order.” Mafioso hoped he didn’t sound upset or frustrated or anything like that; he was genuinely getting concerned for Chance. What’d that man do to them to make them so... afraid? Fearful? Anxious? Of the guy? He just has to know. It, again, is not the only time Mafioso has seen such an event like this.

He’d guess the better question is ‘what did Chance see in that person that’s so scary?’ 

The gray man in question slowly sat down, sliding Mafioso’s adorable latte art cup to him and the small plate and coffee cup to themself. “I’m sorry.” Chance huffed out, stuffing a lemon square into his mouth and finishing it in one bite and gulp. “I should’ve told you much sooner about that. I don’t deserve your forgiveness over something as troubling as—”

“Qual è il tuo problema, Chance?!” Mafioso tried to slam his hands on the table as quietly as possible, wearing his saddest face he could muster just to show Chance he meant well. “I-I would never mean that in a harsh and cruel way. I’m only concerned for you. Most moments we spend time together and we encounter that same man over and over again, it changes your whole personality.” He sat back down, staring at the cup in front of him with a sigh. “I just want to know why because I want our hangouts to be peaceful, like a true break from work.”

Chance looked at him, eyes slightly wide open before letting his face echo the glum feeling he’d had for a while. “... That means a lot, Donni.” That was a lie. “You don’t know how much it means to me.” Nothing. Not that Chance was a psychopath or whatever it was called, he just couldn’t feel the words. When was he last able to? “Just... give me a few moments. This is hard to put it simply.”

Oh god. Does that mean that person was genuinely so terrible towards Chance in some way in the past? Mafioso just couldn’t imagine seeing any person on this planet dare hurt Chance. They didn’t deserve suffering, not at all. “He left you unscathed, right?”

Not a word.

“... Right?”

Chance met his left hand with his chin and had his eyes wander elsewhere. “Haha... About that...” They brought their elbow to the table, hesitating to take the glove off, but eventually went through with it, revealing that grotesque mark they hated seeing every time. “He, uh... left this. Before I cut ties with him forever! Or at least tried to.” He laughed, trying to shrug off the odd feeling that grew in their chest the more they showed and told.

Instead, they spotted yet another concerned look sported on Mafioso’s face. “Chance, this is not a joking matter.”

“Sure it is! Makes everything less unbearable. Besides...” They slid the glove back on and leaned back in his chair, plopping another lemon square into his mouth and eating it in one bite. “This’s in the past. I lived and it shouldn’t be much of a problem anymore. “

“How’d he leave that scar—”

“It’s a long story.” Chance interrupted the man with a hand up. “Well... not really. It’s just... a lot to try telling. I get all stuck and can’t get the words. Sorry in advance.”

Mafioso continued to look at Chance, trying to see through those obnoxiously big shades before hesitantly nodding. “No need to apologize; please take as much time as you need. I have plenty of minutes left, and even if I go over time, mia luce, I wouldn’t mind. I just care about you.”

... 

Robloxia, August 200X

“Royal flush over a full house!” Chance jumped backwards in their seat with the biggest grin imaginable.

ITrapped originally challenged him to a game of poker— if Chance wins, iTrapped gets to stay at Chance’s for a day, and if iTrapped wins, he gets the keys to the Banlands. But as Chance kept on winning and iTrapped kept demanding a rematch, it only seemed like Chance’s luck just kept on growing bigger than his own ego. They were not a force to be reckoned with when it comes to games based on pure luck.

These rematches were every one of iTrapped’s attempts to get those damn keys. He’s tried coaxing them from Chance’s hands, tried sneaking into Chance’s casino for the keys, even tried to jump his parents! But nothing worked. Some supernatural force kept on protecting those guys like he himself was the plague.

No, this now twisted into a game for him to get his way. He always gets his way, whether he has to sacrifice something or not. “One more game.” He reached behind his back pretending to scratch it, but really, he was feeling the cold edge of his unsheathed sword’s handle. It faced down, the top of the handle just barely on the cushioning of his seat, and leaned forward.

“Jeez, you’ve definitely got a lot of time this time around!” Chance sat back into an actually normal pose. “Still the same bet? Because you owe me a day less than a week’s worth of sleepovers.”

“Of course. I’ll win this time.” He scowled, his mind set on his only goal with this pathetic guy. They don’t know what’s happening to them, and they surely won’t when he finally takes the figurative crown.

Chance shuffled the cards and straightened them, giving two to each and five in the middle. “You ready for the flop?” And they flipped three of the cards; an ace of hearts, a four of spades, and joker of hearts. That’s already two of the five cards iTrapped needed for a guaranteed royal flush to finally take home the trophy.

“And since we’ve already settled on our bets...” They turned over the fourth card, two of clubs. Pretty useless. “And finally, our last card.” Chance turned the river over— six of diamonds. The two turned the cards in their hands over and brainstormed their pairs.

“Pair.” ITrapped grumbled and awaited for—

“Woohoo! And I still get the crown!” Chance cheered as they put their cards in each hand and slammed them on the joker and club. “Two pair right there! Ohhhh yeah!” They got up from their chair and did the worst victory dance known to man. Was it even a victory dance if it was just moving around and not well-coordinated? “Great game, iTrapped! Can’t wait to see you the whole time this week!”

ITrapped, for once, was heated. He was furious, enraged, infuriated, burning. How dare that naive and happy-go-lucky guy walk away without what he needed the most? He just needed to get those keys. It was as easy as that. Yet Chance had to make it harder for him with their insane wins! What the— How the—?! It just didn’t compute!

“Chance.” ITrapped shuddered, not in fear but in anger. 

The clueless gambler stopped halfway to the door and turned around to iTrapped with an expecting smile. 

But iTrapped had a different goal in mind than to greet the same to that wretched man. He charged head-first right at Chance before they could utter a single word, towering over them, hair unkempt and messily drooping over his face, on his knees, keeping them to the floor. “I-ITrapped, I didn’t know you were into—”

“All I needed was one thing but you gave me such a challenge. I’m sick of you getting in my way!” ITrapped’s breathing grew uneasy and growling. He unsheathed the sword from behind and held it above Chance’s neck, yelling, “For once, LAY ME OFF A BURDEN AND DIE!!!” 

His arms brutally and swiftly plunged downwards like a man jumping off a cliff before the sword was forcefully stopped in their quest. 

Underneath the sword was a Chance closing their eyes and turning their head to the side in both fear and acceptance of what was to come. Without feeling the cold impact of the blade, they met eyes with the stranger above them, eyes torn open as if they would literally die if they blinked even once for a millisecond. Their breathing was rapid, inconsistent, and loud, gasping for air as they felt the tip of the freezing metal gently meet their neck. Squeaks and gasps were the only thing either of them could hear in the deafening silence of the dim room.

ITrapped only forced more strength into their insatiable hunger for Chance’s death, but Chance’s brute strength was greater. Distance grew between the sword and their neck, blood trickling down Chance’s hands, down the sword, and dripping onto their neck as both struggled for their lives.

“Goddammit, I never needed you for any connection! If you just gave me those damn keys to the Banlands, you wouldn’t be trying not to die in my hands!” He yelled to weaken Chance, but nothing happened. Only the whining and gasping turned louder as Chance kept on trying to tear that blade away from their throat.

“I—” Chance cried out. The seeping pain in their palm and fingers was only growing as they kept grabbing the sword and trying to either throw it to the side or counter it. They tried to speak further, only jumbled up gibberish coming out of their mouth the more they fought to keep themself from dying. Sweat and tears streamed down their face, some dripping onto the ground or into their hair.

“Don’t make this harder for me, gambler.” ITrapped’s face moved closer to Chance’s, now putting his whole body weight onto the sword. “Speak.”

Chance tried to gulp and breathe as much as they could to make their speech clearer, only continuing to wrestle with the blade. “If— I-If you just asked nicely— Hah—!!!” They yelped as iTrapped forced even more of himself onto the weapon. “Without any— any lies or some-something then I would’ve given them to you—!”

They used the sword to turn both of them on their sides, with Chance swiftly running out of the scene, leaving the door wide open for a tumbleweed to see. 

... 

“Y’see, he always lied, that’s the thing.” Chance took a final sip of their coffee and set it down, the whole thing now empty. “But the fun part is I never realized until that moment!”

Mafioso’s cup was missing the bunny (he ate it), but he held the cup like there was more to drink. Was this out of stress for the guy? I don’t know. “And you’re... laughing this off? You’re laughing about a friend of yours betraying you?” Because, truthfully, he would be eternally furious and vengeful if that happened to him.

“Uh-huh. Something wrong with that?” They asked as a waiter came to the table with a receipt and a card reader. “‘S how a lot of people deal with things. I’m just another one of those people.”

“Ah—” Mafioso held his hand out, trying to stop Chance from paying as they slid the card. Too late. “I’ll... I’ll make sure that man never steps foot near you ever again. I swear and promise you will remain unharmed under my protection.” He could feel the rage seeping in. Just hearing a story about how his best friend got extremely hurt made him hurt, yet so angry at the same time.

“I’m flattered, but it’s nothing, don’t worry about it, Donni.” Chance picked their blazer from the back of their chair and stood, sticking both arms through.

“But, Chance, you were there when I needed you, carissimo... Let me pay back the kindness. I beg.” Mafioso was metaphorically getting dragged on Chance’s ankle, still holding on like he would lose everything in life if he let go.

They sighed again, smiling at the sight of seeing the normally stone-cold faced man pouting like a lost child as he held their wrist. “It’s alright, you don’t need to pay me back with nice actions. You can forget about it.”

Mafioso let go, parting his lips into a barely visible frown like he’d been heartbroken and didn’t know how to express it. “Sonnellinos don’t forget, Chance. You have had that phrase stuck into your head; I will never forget to properly thank you, Chance.”

“No need.” Chance took this advantage of space to actually gain more distance so he could finally leave. “Just hearing you say you want to pay me back is enough. So keep yourself worried about other matters, returning the favor shouldn’t be at the top of your to-do list.” He walked through the door, pausing halfway through and played the whole situation off with a giant bid of farewell. “See you later, Donni! Don’t worry your little head off for lil ol’ me!”

But just how later would later be? That’s up to Chance’s mind. Hell knows if he’ll remember to visit Mafioso again this week.

Watch him turn against me by, like, tomorrow. I wouldn’t be surprised.