I'm an awful writer
Not a ship
____________________________
The colorful sky faded into a mixture of blues and blacks as the sun began to set and the moon began to rise. It was a warm, heated day, but it was pleasant. The gang had just completed an abstruse mission, which took some time. They headed back to their mansion to end the day with some rest, a day like that was surely tiring.
Bruno relaxed himself on the couch as Narancia opened the pantry to get one of his cookies. However, he was supposed to ask for one first. Referring back to the time he ate ALL of the cookies, not leaving a crumb.
"Narancia, you already had one today." Bruno spoke. He feared that Narancia would throw a tantrum like he always did, and Bruno surely didn't want that to happen as he didn't have the energy to face Narancia at the moment.
Narancia stopped for a moment, he dropped the cookie back into it's bag. He zipped it, then put it back in the pantry. No words spoken. Narancia then stepped up the stairs to go back to his room. His head was hanging low and his face was glued to the floor.
Bruno's eyes drifted, stuck on Narancia's figure as he walked from the kitchen and up to his room.
"What's with Narancia?" He questioned concerned.
"He probably didn't start a problem or begging since he's just too tired for it." Abbacchio spoke, giving a small sigh of relief. He didn't want to deal with Narancia's stupid tantrums again.
"And it's too tiring for us." Mista added. But Bruno was not having it. He knew something was wrong.
Bruno got up and left for Narancia's room. Having an overwhelming need to find out what was wrong. The others stared at Bruno as he left.
"What's up with him?" Trish asked.
"Probably just mother instinct." Mista answered.
Bruno headed for Narancia's room, the door was locked. Bruno opened the door carefully to see Narancia, sitting on his bed.
His hand up to his cheek and his knees up to his face. He was not in his usual, chaotic mood.
"Narancia, what's wrong?" Bruno asked as he welcomed himself into the room and sat down on the boy's bed.
"Nothing." Narancia answered in a monotone voice. Not his usual cheerful or loud voice, but a low, serious one. He stared out the window, trying to avoid letting the tears in his eyes fall. Bruno put his arm on Narancia's shoulder.
Narancia loved the touch. It seemed that he wasn't starving for a cookie or a warm meal, he was probably starving for a warm hand to form contact with him. He went closer into Bruno as he smuggled into him, his hands on his chest.
Bruno, as the natural mother instinct, knew what was up with Narancia. He just wanted to be loved. He just wanted to be touched. He wanted a person to care for him, somebody who would love him.
Bruno wrapped his arms around Narancia, comforting him. As if, welcoming a son into his mother's comfort and love. Narancia let the tears flow freely on his cheeks. He didn't hesitate or feel ashamed. Because Bruno was the only one who would understand him. His problems, his needs.
Bruno's fingers rubbed Narancia's neck slowly as the boy sobbed. Bruno's hair touched his cheek. He then whispered softly into Narancia's ear:
"Narancia, no matter what.
I'll always be here for you."
