Work With Me -Bruno Buccellati x Reader-

29- The biting

You keep driving until the afternoon, where Fugo announces you have to stop at the next town.

"Giorno says somebody is waiting for us there," He explains.

 The sun has been hot in the sky, and now it slowly slips down the sky, smearing gold and amber in its wake. You doze in the backseat, head resting on Bruno's shoulder. He holds you carefully, listening to your breathing, noting every twitch and shift. He stares out of the window, watching fields roll past, watching birds fly overhead in the still air, watching the world go by. What is this life? He thinks, eyes glancing out at the world around him. How did he get here? Your warmth beside him is a comfort, but a cause of fear, too. If he had never met you, where would he be now? Alone, in his home, working probably, waiting for night so he can go to bed and start it all again tomorrow. His dreams were his only escape from the boredom and futility, dreams of love and adventure, leaving behind this life in the mafia and becoming somebody else- somebody he actually wanted to be.

But he wanted to be with you, and now this life seems sweeter than it ever did before. You became his dreams, he absorbed you, he wanted you, wholly, wanted to become yours and live in your life. You were his escape, he would follow you to the end of the universe, he would follow you into the darkest of rooms, the most dangerous of battles, he would ride with you and if you were to die he would follow you into whatever afterlife waited on the other side. He finds your hand and holds it, thumb running over your knuckles, agonisingly slow touches that made him yearn for more. 

~~~~~~~~

The car stopping stirs you, and you rub your eyes, blinking away the sleep sand in the corners. Bruno is stroking your hair and you smile up at him, watching his eyes light up as you do so,

"We're here, come on."

"We're in Venezia?" 

"No, but we have to stop for a while, ok? We'll be going again soon." Bruno helps you out of the van, tired legs find cobbled streets.

The town is quaint, and in the evening it is quiet. People hurry home, carrying shopping bags, holding their children's hands that stumble behind with their short strides. You let Bruno lead you around a corner, passing shops and closing cafes that smell like strong, pure coffee.

There is a park in the centre of town, with a fountain that splutters blue water, and birds sit on the edge, calling out to one another. The flowers that line the grass are in a variety of colours, purples and pinks, reds and yellows that wave lazily in the breeze. Bruno sits on a bench and whistles a tune, mirroring the birds that hop and fly around, singing and turning in the air like acrobats. 

"Who are we waiting for?" You ask, kicking at some uneaten birdseed. 

"I'm not sure, but Giorno instructed us to wait here. We won't be long, are you hungry?" You nod, "We'll get some dinner before we set off again, ok?"

You wait. The air turns cold as the sky begins to darken. Shadows grow, trees casting black onto the grass and the flowers. The last of the dogwalkers head home, and the birds give up their songs for the night. You see movement in the shadows, but your eyes can't focus on what is there, struggling to see in the darkness. Bruno holds your hand, but his whistling has stopped and he is resigned to an impatient silence. You shuffle up closer, shivering in the cold, aching for his warmth and his comfort, and he obliges you, pulling you in close and kissing your forehead. 

Finally, something emerges. They are slow, lazy, shoes scuffing on the pathway. Your eyes are closed, you are dozing again, but Bruno sees them and stands instantly. You open your eyes and gasp.

"Abbachio..."

Purple, smeared lipstick. Pale hair tangled and windswept. His strings on his shirt are loose, and his eyes are dark and dead. Your jaw tenses, you wonder if this will become a fight. Bruno takes a step forward.

"You've come."

"I'm here because he instructed me. Buccellati, I don't approve of this."

Bruno chuckles, "Do you approve of anything I do?"

"She hurt you, Buccellati, she lied to you."

"Well, we've all made mistakes." Another step.

Abbachio turns his back, "She doesn't deserve your forgiveness, and she won't be getting mine." 

"Did you deserve my forgiveness then?" Bruno grabs his wrist, turns him around. He glares.

"Of course, of course I didn't." He swallows, he can't meet Bruno's gaze.

"And you still received it, didn't you? You aren't the only person in my life, Leone."

"Don't call me that." Abbachio is venomous, he tears his arm out of Bruno's grip.

Bruno reaches for him again, "I won't lose you, Abbachio, we have to work together." 

Abbachio takes a few steps away, his hair sways behind him as the wind picks up. The sky is turning dark, and Bruno grips your hand tight. He doesn't understand. After everything he did for him, why was he faced with such cruelty? Such a lack of understanding? 

"You're not walking away from this Abbachio! I gave you so much, and you cant even let me have one thing?"

"And the one thing you want is somebody who hurt you? You're an idiota  Buccellati, you're choosing to love the one person who hurt you most. I don't- I don't get it..."

"Because you've never done anything wrong, have you Abbachio? Tell me, is there one person in your life who you haven't hurt?"

Abbachio tensed. His eyes darkened and glazed over with tears. The wind swept his coat, and you felt the goosebumps prickle on your skin. He turned on his heel and strode off. Bruno made no attempt to stop him, he only turned and collapsed into your arms. 

"I shouldn't have said that..." He whispered into the skin of your neck, hands seeking comfort around your waist, "I... My feelings got the better of me..."

"He's done a lot to both of us, but we got over it, didn't we? Give him time, he'll come around too."

He sat down on the bench. You sat beside him, letting his head rest on your shoulder. You ran gentle fingers through his hair, untangling the windswept knots, listening to his shaky breath as he rests. Just for a moment, there is calm, even as the wind bites at your ankles. Bruno closes his eyes and lets out a gentle sigh,

"I'm glad you're here."

You place a kiss to the top of his head,

"Me too."