xcroinax - Tumblr blog

xcroinax · 2 years

Text

Regret - Leone Abbacchio x Reader

Here is an angsty Abbacchio fic I wrote like 2 years ago on ao3

Check tags

Ao3 version

The concept of life after death brings many questions. If we live a good life on earth, then regardless of heaven, hell, purgatory or nothingness, we shall be remembered for good. If we live bad lives, we run the risk of eternal damnation if life after death exists. However, if it doesn't, then we merely leave the earth with no consequences.

But if you have already done bad, done things that would already make those around you despise you, is it wrong to purge the earth clean of yourself? Is it worth staying? Is it worth being a constant reminder of the failure you are and the agony you have caused others?

These thoughts raced through Leone's mind as he exited his home, not caring to check if the doors were locked, he had nothing worth stealing anyway. He didn't bother taking his car, he wouldn't have use for it soon, no need for extra mileage. The crisp cool air of Naples could barely be felt on his skin as he managed to once again intoxicate himself to the point of numbness. Maybe he should've driven? Car accidents always looked interesting on TV.

He stumbled down the road with his eyes barely open, he knew the route to your house by memory. He guided his steps by pressing his hands against the filthy walls of the shops along the street. You would hate this, you hated him, he knew it. Memories of that night still clouded his mind, serving as continuous reminders of how low he let himself stoop. How anger and alcohol finally made him snap after weeks of tearing you apart. And once he finally broke both you and himself, he crawled back to the bottle. You would really hate to see him.

You were always so kind, so sweet, way to fragile to deal with him. You should've left him after the first night he drunkingly screamed at you, his blue eyes filled with rage. You shouldn't have been there when he smashed everything in the room in a tantrum. You definately shouldn't have been there when he overdosed so much he had to be brought to the emergency room. You didn't need to help him, or tolerate him, or take care of him when he was at his lowest. You didn't deserve him yelling at you, telling you to leave him alone and disappear from his life, although the language he used was much more vulgar. You didn't deserve to cry so much that night, you didn't deserve to cry at all.

But he deserved you finally leaving him.

He finally reached your home, the home he missed sleeping in every night. The home he would spend hours praising you, telling you how much he loved you, showing you how much he loved you. The long nights he spent talking to you about whatever weird conspiracy you heard earlier in the day. He missed the mornings he would wake up to your smiles as you cupped his face and kissed him so softly.

He knocked on the door, no doubt waking you up.

The chain and locks clicked and chimed before the door creaked open. You peered from behind and looked up at him silently. The shame in his heart made him look away from your gaze.

You didn't say anything, instead you swung the door shut. He quickly lunged forward and slid his arm through the gap so the door wouldn't close.

"Please Y/N, I'm begging you, please." His voice cracked. The whimper in his tone made you soften and you found yourself opening the door for him to enter and locked it behind him.

You chose to stay as far away as possible from him, to show that you letting him in your house doesn't mean you're comfortable with his presence.

"Abbacchio what are you doing here, it's 3 o'clock in the morning." You tried your best to sound stern but the falter in your voice said otherwise. You cleared your throat midway.

"Why do you call me that? When did you stop calling me by my name?" His eyebrows furrowed as he heard you use his last name, you had never used it before. Your voice was different to the last time he spoke to you, you also looked different, you had grown. Of course you would, he wasn't there to hold you back.

"You shouldn't be here." You ignored his question, you had no obligation to answer. Yes it felt weird, very weird, but you needed that boundary.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, he gripped his trousers tightly, threatening to tear the material.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry. I'm sorry, for before, the shouting, the fights, the texts everything."

You lost it, you tugged at your hair tightly and screamed at him. "You don't get to say that, not after everything."

"I know, I know I don't deserve your forgiveness but I just wanted to tell you." He pleaded, he stood up to approach you but you placed a hand out, telling him to stop.

"Don't touch me...just don't. I'm tired, I'm tired of this, I don't need this right now." Your head was spinning uncontrollably.

"I was going to kill myself today." He blurted out before he could stop himself. You didn't need to hear this, but yet he still told you. "Out on the docks, but I ended up here."

He had done it, trapped you in a corner. You couldn't send him away, not after that. Despite the feelings you had towards him, you couldn't let him go lest he hurts himself...or worse. You were too good of a person to let him go by himself knowing his intentions. His life was in your hands now. By the way his voice dragged and his unusual 3am appearance, he had to be drunk, that hurt...it really hurt.

"You can stay in the guest room, just don't...do that. I'll figure something out in the morning."

You didn't bother waiting for a reply.

He sniffed the sheets wrapped around him, relishing in the familiar scent of you. It brought back memories of snuggling you in bed, how you always slept in a starfish position and hoarded the sheets.

He smiled at the memory.

He wondered if anyone else had been sharing your bed.

You, on the other hand, were lying awake in bed, trying to loosen yourself from the thoughts keeping you up. You hadn't seen Abbacchio since you both went your separate ways, well seen him properly at least. Sometimes on your lunch break you would spot him round the corner, watching you. Not in a particularly creepy way, but in a 'I want to talk to you but I'm scared' kind of way. This led to you choosing to go out in groups than alone, in hopes that he wouldn't approach you. The streams of text messages had become milder too, from begging for you back to weak attempts at small talk. You didn't reply to either of them, but you didn't have the heart to block him.

His hair was much longer, it suited him. The last time you saw him, it just looked like he had missed a haircut. You noticed the change in his attire too, the opened up jacket that gave a clear view of his toned chest and abdomen but stopping just before that V-line only you had had the liberty of seeing...and touching.

Stop

You swatted those memories away before they got out of hand. You had moved on, you needed to. Pursuing him once more would only bring back the same problem that tore you apart. You soon remembered how despised he looked at you when he told you you were only making things worse for him, how he didn't need you and wanted to to leave. How the past weeks of trying to help him overcome his addictions had only resulted in pain despite how sympathetic and loving you were to him, how you did your best to help him mourn.

When he first started mourning, the drinking didn't bother you, you knew it was a coping mechanism so all you could do was just make sure he didn't drink too much. But months and months passed and nothing changed except his addiction. You knew he had to cut it out to gain some sense of acceptance of his feelings so he could move on, but all he did was push you away.

"Why are you still here?"

"Get the fuck away from me!"

"Don't you dare touch me!"

"What is your problem?"

"I fucking hate you when you do shit like this."

"Who do you think you are?"

The comments were mild at first, before growing exponentially more angered until he finally got you out of his life properly.

You no longer felt like you did anything wrong, you had grown past that, instead, you knew you were better off without him. You got rid of his presents to you, deleted the heartwarming good morning texts, and pushed aside the memories of all the date nights and lazy mornings you spent together just chatting about anything and everything. You no longer felt this way about him.

So why did you cry yourself to sleep?

****************************

"Leone...how was work amore?" You wrapped your arms across his body and traced your fingers across his chest. He didn't reply.

"You seem stressed, come let me take care of you." You pulled his arm and took him upstairs.

He should've stopped when you started undressing, he definitely should've stopped when you started moaning. He shouldn't have stroked himself when he watched you squirm naked on the bed as he did whatever he was doing to you, he shouldn't have pumped himself either and moaned along with you. His shameless cries as he came at the sight of your lower body expanding, just for him, how good you took his cock and how crazy you were for it.

"FUCK!" He yelled, gripping his skin tightly and looking down at the mess he made. He was repulsive, repulsive and despicable. How dare he think about you and do such to you, who did he think he was? He cursed himself, filled with anger and disgust for himself. He saw you just a couple days ago, and suddenly here he was.

He was intoxicated once more, sitting in a pool of his own sweat and drool.

The dial tone of Moody Blues's speaker signalled the end on the recording.

****************************

"Leone dance with me." You cooed in his ear as you cupped his face. He chuckled as you pecked his lips and cheeks in an attempt to coax him.

"Tesora you know I can't dance." He mumbled back, he ran his fingers along your back as you sat on his lap. He eyed the beautiful red lace dress you wore, how it flowed so elegantly over your figure.

"It's just the two of us up here. Please?" You gave him those puppy eyes he couldn't resist. He rolled his eyes and stood up. One of his hands moved down to your lower back while the other held one of your hands. The two of you swayed to the slow music playing from the band downstairs, the cool night breeze whistled in the background as he twirled you before cupping your face and giving you a quick peck.

"See that wasn't so hard." You stuck your tongue out and teased him. He grunted and rolled his eyes before smiling at you. You both danced until the song ended, the moonlight bathing both of you in its glow as you stood by the balcony, arms wrapped around each other as you let a comfortable silence fall over you. There was so much you could say to each other, but not saying anything somehow felt more powerful.

"Ti amo Y/N."

"Ti amo Leone."

"Abbacchio." Bucciarati clicked his fingers in front of the white haired man. "Are you okay?"

He nodded as he was snapped out of his memory, "Yes, apologies my mind was elsewhere." He lied. Well a partial lie, yes his mind was elsewhere. He was currently trying to figure out what kind of cruel game the universe was playing on him. Of all the restaurants, of all the days and hours in a year, why did you happen to be here?

His eyes kept lingering on your table, there were 3 other people there, two men and one woman, all engrossed in conversation. You were wearing a red dress, a familiar red dress, one he once had the liberty of tearing off your soft skin before devouring you in the secluded upper seating of this same damn restaurant.

He hadn't spoken to you since the day he wandered to your house at 3am, that was 2 months ago. He tried to thank you for your hospitality, hoping to strike conversation with you, but it was pointless when he realised you wouldn't even read the messages.

He tried his best to focus on the cake in front of him and whatever topic his new teammates were discussing, but his eyes kept glancing over to you. You looked so happy, much happier than you were with him. He wondered if the man to your right, who's arm was draped over your shoulders, was your new lover. Judging by the way he looked at you when you spoke, he must have had some interest in you. He didn't blame him, you were perfection, an angel that he nearly poisoned with gloom. It had been so long since he had seen you laugh so much, he wasn't sure if he ever had.

He was happy for you, he really was. From your latest post online, it seemed like you had gotten a promotion at work and this was probably your celebration. He recalled how excited you were when you first got the job. You spammed his phone with messages and pounced on him the moment you saw him, pure electricity buzzing through your body as you tried to convey your overwhelming joy. He got you a present too, some jewellry from store that he remembered you once showed an interest in, you nearly shed tears of joy when you opened the box.

That was when he still put in effort, when he still allowed you to be part of his life and him yours.

He took a slither of cake from his plate and ate it, trying to focus on the soft texture as opposed to the soft skin of your body.

No no, he had no right to start thinking of that.

He wished he could show you how much he had changed, how he didn't drink any more and had been clean for over a month. How he took better care of himself and made sure the tidy himself everyday. But would you even care? It wouldn't fix how cruel he was to you and how much he pushed you away, or the nights you spent drained and crying after trying to sober him up only to have his alcoholic side get angry at you. He never hit you, and only on a couple occasions had he broken things. But the continuous daily cycle of you having to pull him out of the hole and receive crude complaints, sometimes about you, sometimes about himself and then have him push you away and sulk the moment he sobered up was weakening you. Everyone could see how sleep deprived you were, how unhappy you were, how much you cared for him only to have him push you away. Your constant attempts at cheering him up and trying to talk to him always failed.

If anything, showing you this change would make you feel worse, like you failed. A stranger he met a couple months back managed to pull him out of the hole that you, who had been with him in the long run, had tried so long to help him out of.

He didn't know when he started staring at you again, but suddenly his eyes locked with yours and he was like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes darted from him to Bucciarati then back to him as you put the pieces together.

He was one of them now.

You continued your meal.

Abbacchio stood up and left the restaurant without a word and without looking back. He didn't know what he felt, whether it was anger, sadness, embarrassment or anything. He just felt stupid honestly, as if you thought even less of him.

He was happy for you, he really was. But he wanted to be happy with you.

****************************

"Y/N." He looked up from the sofa over to you as you read one of the fashion magazines that were lying on the table.

"Hm?" You looked up and smiled sweetly at him. The sun shone on your beautiful face as you tried back some of your hair.

"I think I'm falling in love with you." He moved closer to you and rubbed the back of your hand awaiting your response.

"Huh?!" You gawked at him, trying to understand what he was saying. He didn't love you did he?

"You heard me." He teased and pinched your cheek, enjoying how embarrassed you were.

"I-How-I-"

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Shut up." You playfully punched his arm. "What do you mean you're falling in love with me?"

"I mean I'm falling in love with you. In fact I am in love with you. I've been in love with you for a while." Your mouth swung ajar and your eyes widened. "I'm sorry I didn't think it would shock you so much!"

"Of course it would shock me! I didn't know you felt that way!"

"Hey stop laughing." You covered your face in embarrassment as how obviously overwhelmed you were. No one had ever told you they loved you before, this was your first serious relationship.

"You're cute when you're flustered." He laughed. "Come here angel." He held your chin and pulled you closer before kissing your lips, he sucked your bottom lip which made you moan slightly.

"Leone I...I think I-"

"Abbacchio are you in?" A loud voice shouted accompanied with knocking.

With that, the recording stopped. He looked over at your now frozen face. The counter on your forehead showing the date (in hours before the current time). Your brows were still furrowed and your lips pursed as you were about to speak.

He knew it by heart, how the conversation went, he had replayed it enough times.

"Fuck." He groaned before calling away his stand and walking up to his front door. "Mista what is it?" He swung open the door to reveal the gunslinger, he hoped it was at least something important.

"Bucciarati told me to give you these." He handed the mafioso a set of files. Abbacchio simply snatched it out of his hands and slammed the door with a scowl, not caring for the grumbles on the other side. He called out his stand once more.

"I love you." Your sweet voice chimed. He turned around smiling before holding your waist and pulling you close. He wondered if he would ever get to hear the real you say it.

Was there even any point to still loving you?

****************************

"You work for Passione?" You asked, running your finger along the circular rim of your glass of now flat champagne. Why you were talking to him, you couldn't understand. "I saw you with Signore Bucciarati."

"Yes." His fingers tapped the table making a hollow noise in collision with his nails.

"For how long?" You still staring down at your glass knowing that if you gazed on him you might do something stupid.

"I actually met him a couple days after I stayed in your guest room."

"Oh?" You looked up finally and met his deep blue eyes. He looked better, a lot better. His hair was still long but much tidier, his eyes were brighter, skin healthier. He seemed to be doing well. "You seem to be doing well, seems like Passione has its perks." A weak laugh followed.

"Thank you, so do you." He tried his best not to swoon over you, to hug you and thank you for finally letting him talk to you. Maybe you pitied him, or he had finally annoyed you to the point where you gave in and replied. Or maybe that man you seem to be around so much is your new boyfriend and now you've moved on, you don't feel bad checking up on him. Regardless, he made sure not to get his hopes up. "You are seeing someone?" He blurted out before he could stop himself.

"I- who-" You stammered, trying to understand what he was saying. What boyfriend?

"I saw you the other day, with some guy, I'm sorry it's not my business, I was just curious." It seemed that everything he said just made the aura more tense.

"No it's okay, he's not my boyfriend, we're just close friends." You reassured him, you didn't miss the sigh of relief he released. He never struck you as the jealous type.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

The silence returned. Despite the music from the main hall downstairs travelling up to the balcony, the silence upstairs seemed to overpower it.

"I stopped drinking, I don't drink at all, always non alcoholic."

"Oh...I'm proud."

The silence returned. You were tempted to just go downstairs and enjoy the party...but it's not like you knew anyone. Besides you would've felt bad leaving him up here, you weren't that type of person.

"I'm sorry this is just awkward, I shouldn't have invited you here. You can go, thank you for coming." He was doing it again, running away from the problem. You held his hand and squeezed it.

"No I...I think I want to stay." The corner of your mouth upturned slightly before flattening.

"Oh." He felt his palms become sweaty and quickly pulled it out of your grasp.

...

"Hey remember when we used to go to the docks at night and pretend we were sailors?" You blurted out randomly. You thought back to when you were both 17 and stupid, in hopes of bringing a happier tone to the evening. It worked. You both walked around the top floor before entering a dark room.

Conversation started once more, but it was more comfortable this time seeing as you both knew you were okay with it, laughter even played a role. You soon began reminiscing on times you had before it went downhill. You gulped down your champagne as he sat next to you, still holding his bottle of water.

"We used to dance to this song." You smiled before singing along with the band and closing your eyes. His fingers brushed yours and you held his hand. He brought your joint fist to his lips and kissed your hand which made you giggle as you watched him kiss your arm, your jaw, your lips...

You pulled away from the kiss sharply, covering your lips quickly. "Abbacchio this...this shouldn't have happened." The lingering feeling of his lips on yours sent tingles down his body. "We shouldn't have done this."

"But why? I thought...I hoped." His eyes scanned your face in shock at how suddenly you retracted. He tried to shift closer to you but you moved away.

"I can't okay! I just, I can't..." Your thoughts spun around your head making you dizzy. "You have no idea how long and how painful it was to get over you I can't just..." Your voice trailed off and you allowed his hands to rest on you hips. He rubbed your hips before bringing one hand up to cup your face. He whispered apologies as he pulled you towards him.

"Please...I promise I will never hurt you in any way, I'm not the same as before, I've changed." He moved closer to kiss your neck slowly. "Please my darling." He sucked on a particularly sensitive patch which made you mewl and pull his hair. "My angel I've hurt you so much and I've been so evil to you when all you've done is be good to me." He moved over to kiss your lips softly, his tongue begging for entry. "Y/N please, I love you so much, I never stopped loving you. You love me too right?" He kissed you deeply as his hand roamed your arms before cupping your face once more.

"Please...stop." You pulled away slowly and looked down at your lap, tears brimming in your eyes. Why did it feel so good, why did it feel so good to have him kissing and touching you, why did you want this so badly? You damned your body for giving in to such simple urges. Your sniffles filled the room as you grabbed his wrists. You opened your mouth to talk but nothing came out, just more whimpers. You so badly wanted to be with him but the constant fear of the past gnawed at you.

"Y/N..." His heart cracked at the sight of the tears falling down your face. Had he ruined you this much? "I'll leave if you want me to, I understand." He couldn't bear it, he was despicable. Your eyes resembled the ones he saw the day he drove you away. How broken you looked, how that twinkle in your eyes had been quenched and all that was left was the pain you kept inside. You didn't deserve this.

"Wait." You held his arm lightly. "I just don't want to regret this Leone." You didn't know what you wanted, but that drew you more towards him. You loved him, you really did, there's no way you didn't. But it felt so hard to let go and be with him.

"You won't my angel, you won't. I didn't appreciate you when I had you, but I will now. You mean the world to me." One of his large hands moved to cup your jaw before brushing back some of your hair.

You didn't know what came over you, but suddenly you were kissing him again. You weren't sure whether it was the alcohol, the music, the darkness that enveloped you both or just pure desperation from being alone for so long paired with having him touch your skin so tenderly. You don't remember him taking you back to your house. You don't remember unzipping your dress, you don't remember unzipping his trousers, you don't recall how the bruises formed on your chest in shapes resembling lips. You could not remember anything, but you could feel everything. His kisses, sucks, bites, grasps, thrusts, the lust and passion in those slow movements as he drove you to the point of pure bliss. You could feel how he filled you with each collision, knocking the air out of your lungs from below as he fought between giving you all he had or taking it slowly and savouring this moment.

You weren't drunk, but somehow everything seemed to blend in together in a weird concoction of memories which only seemed to piece together next morning.

It felt so good, too good, how he praised your body and told you how amazing you were. You could barely focus as he managed to touch, kiss, suck all your sensitive places, reminding you of how good he would once treat your body. He repeatedly told you how much he missed and promised to take care of you. You were lost in those dim blue eyes looking down at you while your hands snaked through his long silver hair. You wished you could remember how earnestly he looked at you or his exact words as he professed his love to you.

You wished you could remember when he left.

*********************************

"Y/N...I've been trying to contact you." He whispered, he blocked your path as you attempted to make your way to your car so you could leave the grocery store.

"You were gone before I woke up. I thought that meant we weren't serious, you got what you wanted right?" You threw your items into the trunk and slammed it shut, slightly harder than intended. "I felt so stupid." You whispered, trying not to make eye contact. You felt so embarrassed and empty, how easily you sank into his touch only for him to be gone so early and not say anything to you until 2 days later. You felt used and stupid for letting him have you and thinking it was a going to be like a typical romance movie.

This happened a lot towards the end of your relationship, anytime you gave yourself to him, he would disappear to the guest room or go back home or just wander the street, as if it didn't mean anything, like you were a stress relief toy or he was using you to jerk off. Ironically it was when he was drunk and out of his mind that he would have the mind to stay and swoon over you. He wouldn't even look at you, he'd simply turn you around and have you from behind. At first you thought it was just preference, but it soon dawned on you that he just couldn't bear to look at you. He stopped speaking, he would just grunt into your ears and occasionally curse or just refer to you as what your genitals were. His hands were always digging too harshly into your skin, often injuring you when he squeezed your neck too tightly or ended up tearing the skin on your hips, never easing up, it was like he couldn't even hear you. When he was done he would let go and leave, not bothering to tend to your bruises.

You always questioned why he had become like this, he used to be such a passionate person, always making sure you were both content. You questioned why you even let him do it. Maybe it was because sex was somewhat sacred to you? A time to show intimacy and once he started cutting ties with people, you craved any form of intimacy he gave you. Or maybe you were just dumb and in love with someone who rarely showed it back, at least, not to your extent.

"Y/N, everything I said was serious. I do love you and I have changed, I want to make things right even if it means going back to square one. I'm so sorry I left." He pleaded trying to catch your attention. He genuinely sounded sorry.

"You're always sorry." You spat, trying to be strong so you wouldn't cry. His arms held your arms before moving around to hug you softly. You flinched at the intimate contact, seemed pointless, you weren't flinching last night.

"Relax...please, I'm not going to hurt you." He stroked your back and exhaled deeply. "I left because I felt bad, I felt like I had taken advantage of you. I'm changing for you, for myself, I want to be better but I'm worried I'll make too many mistakes and lose all my chances. I don't want to break you again." By the tone of his voice, he was the broken one.

"Abbacchio...if you want to change, then we have to communicate better. You can't keep running away and pushing me away everytime something happens. But I can't...I can't jump back in this with you, I need time, I need to think about this." You said after what felt like an eternity of silence. You wanted to help him as best as you could, but you didn't know if you could risk becoming so mentally drained. But they always say love is blind.

"I'm actually going on a trip soon." He chimed. "To Capri. It might be a few days, we can talk when I get back?" You could see the child-like ray of hope in his eyes, you could see how desperately he wanted you back. But this wasn't the same desperation as when you broke up, this was different, this was an "I want you because I want to right my wrongs" kind of expression.

"Right."

"I-I do love you you know?" He mumbled as you entered your car, he tried his best to catch your gaze but failed.

You said it repeatedly in your head "I love you too, I love you too." But for some reason, you couldn't say it out loud. Instead you smiled and drove off.

**************************

The doorbell rang and you rolled your eyes, assuming it was another door to door salesman trying to get you to buy some pricey gadget you had no use for.

Instead it was a boy, one with green eyes and blond hair. He wore a black suit that opened at the chest and was lined with dark green.

"Good afternoon Miss. My name is Giorno Giovanna. Are you Y/N?" His voice was like that of an adults, mature and hiding.

You crossed your arms and eyed the stranger. "Do I know you?" You cocked your head to the side, you would've remembered such a uniquely dressed person.

"Actually no, but I work with Abbacchio."

"Oh? Is he back from his trip? I haven't been able to reach him." You had tried texting him multiple times but he hadn't responded to any of them, you assumed he was just busy.

He paused as if he didnt expect you to ask him such a question. "I think it's best if I give you this." He handed you a folded piece of paper, a piece of paper with Abbacchio's handwriting on it.

To Y/N,

I really hope you never have to read this, I really really hope so. If you are, then it means I'm no longer around.

I wrote this letter before my trip, which would have turned out unsuccessful, at least for me.

I always had a feeling that this would happen, that there would be a day like this. I just hope it hasn't come yet, but I guess if you're reading this, it has.

I'm sorry I'm making this so long winded, but I just don't know how to gather my thoughts, especially when it comes to you. I love you so much Y/N, but yet I hurt you the most. You are my angel and you will always be, you were the light on my life that kept me going forward. Even if you don't love me back, I love you. You did so much for me and I barely appreciated you, I pray you find someone who will. I pray you find someone who will love you more than I did, kiss you more, hug you more, care for you more. Someone kinder, someone who will make you happier than you can imagine. I had my chance but I didn't make the most of it. You deserve the world, you are far too good.

I am praying so hard that you aren't reading this, that this letter is in a trashcan somewhere and I have you in my arms. Even if you don't want to be with me anymore, I just hope I can at least be a friend to you and not a burden.

I can't say it enough times, but I love you so so much. I hope you find it in your heart to make peace with me. If you don't, then I understand.

I will always be there for you.

Leone

You didn't know when you ended up on your knees, or when your tears stained the page. You hiccuped as you squeezed the paper in your hands and hit your fist on the ground. You didn't even know why you were crying so much, is this how much you missed him? How much you truly love him?

How much it hurt to know that when you finally believed you could be with him once more...that's when his time was up.

What a cruel, cruel world.

Why now, why now? Why did this happen now? You pulled your hair by the roots as you felt the bile in your stomach rise to your throat, the alkaline solution practically corroding your throat.

"Y/N, Y/N hey hey it's okay." The stranger knelt by you as you rest your head on the ground.

"How could this happen?" You whispered, saliva drooling from your mouth. He squeezed your shoulder, more to reassure himself than you. "Answer me! How did this happen?!" You screamed, you looked up at him, no doubt a mess. The stranger's green eyes looked down at the floor, trying his best not to meet your gaze. You sighed in defeat, knowing fully well you wouldn't get an answer.

"I am so so sorry." He mumbled, his voice cracking. "I wish there was more that could be done but he was already gone by the time we got there." He was a kid, he looked no older than 16, what was he even doing as part of Passione talk less of witnessing death.

"Right." You whispered.

"I'm sorry you had to hear it like this, for what its worth, he was really excited to come back and see you." He rubbed your back as you wiped your tears with your sleeves.

You didn't know when or how, but you found yourself wrapping your arms around this random 15 year old boy, no doubt staining his crisp black suit with your tears and drinking it with your hard grip.

"He's really gone..."

He didn't reply.

***************************

It had been a year since the news, since you found out he had died. You had finally stopped blaming yourself.

Why didn't I give him a chance earlier?

Why didn't I let him back in?

Those questions had finally stopped. After all, there is no point in causing yourself further pain.

You had moved on, started seeing someone else and honestly it felt great. You had to move on, there wasn't anything left to hang on to.

But you couldn't shake the feelings, the thoughts that kept you up at night. You could get rid of his clothes, his items, delete his pictures, but the memories seemed to stick.

"Is this how lonely he felt?" You questioned the bottle of water. You couldn't cry, you couldn't mourn, but there was something wrong. You felt naseous when you thought too much about him, like an uncomfortable lump was ever present in your throat. It almost felt like he wasn't even dead, or like death wasn't real.

You looked over at the ocean, kicking your feet on the wooden panels. You liked to think that if he came back he would've been happy again, you could both be happy together. You wondered if he was happy after death, if it was possible. Would he remember you, would he watch over you?

You looked down at your phone as it pinged, you had a text from your boyfriend.

Hey should I come pick you up now?

Yeah.

I'm on my way. I bought ice cream, we can talk if you want.

You smiled, he was a sweetheart.

"Do you approve of him Leone? Is he the kind of person you want me to be with?" You questioned the air this time, you giggled as a cold blast of wind hit your back as if in response to your questions. The honking of a car caught your attention as you looked back and saw Matteo's car and waved. You turned back to the docks, watching a tear from your eye fall into the water.

"Goodbye Leone...I will always love you."

44 notes · View notes