Work With Me -Bruno Buccellati x Reader-

16- I'm sorry

Abbacchio stood in the entrance, looking at you with cold, steely eyes. 

You looked back at him, trying not to show just how scared you were.

Bruno was smiling, perfectly unaware of what was happening. The unspoken words that you and Abbacchio shared went right over his head. Could he not feel the tension in the room? How thick and suffocating it was? You could feel it, sweat sticking the shirt to your back, plastering the hair to your forehead, making you swallow the dryness in your mouth. Abbacchio broke away from staring at you, looking to Bruno with a fake, sinister smile.

"I thought there was something you ought to know, Buccellati." He said, allowing himself into the kitchen and taking a seat at the dining table. You both followed him, but you lingered in the entrance, not wanting to get too close. Maybe if you silently begged hard enough, Abbacchio would leave and you could pretend this never happened. But he remained perfectly calm, leaning back in his seat, turned to face both you and Bruno, who was stood rather close to him.

Bruno trusted Abbacchio. He could tell the situation was serious, but he wasn't worried. Both you and Abbacchio were good people, and he couldn't think of any way that either of you could hurt him. He trusted whatever Abbacchio was going to tell him, that it was the truth and the best thing for him to hear. He relaxed, despite how tense both you and Abbacchio seemed to be. He rested against the breakfast bar, watching how you shifted where you stood, looking down at the floor. He wondered why you looked so fearful, and he felt sorry for you.

Abbacchio hummed, tapping the table as if there was music playing and he was joining in. Bruno raked his eyes up Abbacchio's figure before settling on his face,

"Well?"

"It's about Y/N." When Abbacchio looked at you your stomach lurched, "They've not been entirely truthful with you."

Bruno's eyes were soft and gentle when he looked at you, "What is it?" He asked,

"I can't tell you," You replied, "I don't want to hurt you."

"He has to know the truth," Abbacchio was unwavering, "Or did you plan on lying to him forever?"

"What is she lying about?" Bruno asked, he glanced from Abbacchio to you and back again. The two people he trusted and cared about most. They were bickering about something, and he was clueless. He felt so lost, so out of his depth and he didn't like it. He wanted to help, but he didn't know how.

"It was years ago..." You shrunk into yourself, hoping to suddenly disappear.

"And yet, you still continue to lie." Abbacchio straightened his posture, "I think it's time to stop now."

Bruno crossed his arms, "What is it? I want to know." 

"It's not important now!" The anxiety in your chest made your volume jump suddenly. You saw Bruno's worried expression and remembered yourself.

"If it's not important, why can't you tell him?" 

"Because.. Because it will hurt him.."

Abbacchio shrugged, "You should have thought about that."

"Back then, I didn't think much of it. But now... I love him, and I can't bear to see him upset."

Bruno smiled, "I appreciate your concern, but I think I deserve to know what you're talking about."

"But you'll hate me, Bruno."

"Maybe, but I still need to know." He was stern in his voice, but a faint smile rested on his face. How could he be so calm? How could he act as if hating you was nothing to him? You looked away,

"I- I can't."

"Then I will." Abbacchio stood, and his stand appeared before you. You hadn't seen it before, but Bruno once mentioned how it worked. And you knew perfectly well what it had done.

"My Moody Blues replayed a certain event that happened three years ago. Y/N was kind enough to give me the address of her old home, the one she lived in with her team."

"So?" Bruno replied, "Did you discover who the rat was?"

"I did."

"And it wasn't me?" 

"Of course it wasn't you, Buccellati. Really, Y/N knew all along that the rat wasn't you."

Bruno's eyes widened, "But how?"

"Because she was the one who told the boss."

~~~~~~~~

There was silence. You thought maybe you were dreaming and this was the end. You would wake up soon, you pleaded with yourself to wake up.

But you didn't.

Bruno didn't speak. His face didn't even change it's expression. Was he angry? Upset? Did he even care? Abbacchio went to find a bottle of wine, pouring himself a glass. Bruno suddenly reached for the bottle.

"Give me that." He said, taking the opened bottle and putting it to his lips.

"Bruno?" You asked, stepping towards him.

"So... All this time... It was you."

"I'm sorry, I really am. I never thought we would end up like this. I just... I needed someone else to blame."

"Because you felt guilty? For killing your team?"

"I didn't want them to die! I just- I thought if I told the boss then I'd be praised, given a better job as a reward! I wanted to better myself so I could help them! I never thought-"

"You never thought?! Never thought about what he might do to them? Did you really believe he would let them get away with it?" Bruno silenced himself by drinking more. You felt tears sting your eyes.

"I didn't want them to die..."

"But they did. And it was your fault."

"I know that..." You couldn't look at him, it hurt too much.

Bruno slammed the bottle down, "You thought you could just blame me, then? Pretend as if it was me and be done with it?"

You nodded, "I was jealous of you, how happy you were with your team... I- I couldn't bear the thought of being responsible."

"What else have you lied about? Hmm? Do you really even love me?"

"What? Of course I do, Bruno- Bruno that's the one thing I can say certainly. I love you, please"

There was silence again. Abbacchio didn't say anything else, only drained his glass and left the house. You felt a draught of cool air when he opened the front door and you shivered. 

"I think it's best if you go..." Bruno whispered, "I need some time to think."

You didn't bother to beg for his forgiveness. He had every right to be angry, and you knew that. You went upstairs to grab your things. In your wardrobe were your clothes, both the things you had brought with you and the new things Bruno had bought you. You left them there, only packing what was rightfully yours. He could keep his gifts, it wasn't like you deserved them.

As you descended the stairs, you heard a noise and stopped. Bruno was still in the kitchen, and you could hear muffled crying. You looked inside, and saw him sat at the table, face buried in his arm, bottle half-empty beside him. 

You looked away again and walked out of the house.