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bucci-cookies · 2 years

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Jealousy - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

This was a commission I did a couple months ago!

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Wc: 13,098

Ao3 version

Enjoy!

“You should be more considerate of the weather.”

You looked up at Bruno with a raised eyebrow. He simply sighed and pointed to your legs.

“Your skirt is too short, didn’t you hear the weather forecast today?” He shot you a disappointed look as he adjusted his deep red turtleneck. “You should have at least worn some tights.” He turned back to face the street ahead.

Yeah, he was right, maybe a short tennis skirt that cut quite high above your knees wasn’t the best option for such a windy day.

The wind blew harshly, causing the leaves of the large birch trees lining the pavement to shake and rustle against each other, adding a second layer to the bustling noises of the people around you. The working day was drawing to a close, cafe chairs were being folded and packed inside while various store owners locked up for the evening. Across the street you saw a flock of people, each holding the hand of a little kid, presumably coming from some sort of extracurricular club or birthday party.

In Bruno's hand was a white bag with several little tubs of ice cream, each with a unique flavour. Some were fruity mixes of various berries, while others were more classic, sweet flavours like toffee and caramel. They were for the rest of the team as the two of you had already had your fill at the dessert shop, indulging in dark chocolate cake and thick, soft pieces of cheesecake. Once a week, you would try to get together as a group to watch a movie, have dinner, or just sit and talk and both of you were usually on dessert duty.

The wind blew once more, pulling the hem of your skirt up slightly.

“Ah, but I have a sweater on at least!” You tugged on the pastel pink woollen sweater that shielded your upper body from the cold and shot him a wide grin, to which he shook his head and smirked.

“I guess it's better than nothing.” He pinched your cheek sharply with his free hand.

“But Brunooo,” You sang as you wrapped your hands around his arm, feeling his muscles flex under his thick clothing as you held onto his biceps. “I thought you said you liked my outfit.” You pressed up against his body as you looked up at him.

“I can like your outfit and also think it's very impractical for this weather.” He patted the back of your hands, not reacting to the way you hugged his arm and pushed yourself up against him.

But what did you expect?

For years you had been trying to get his attention, but every attempt just solidified the platonic relationship between the two of you. Even with all the hints, the advances, the not-so-subtle trip to the dessert shop where you sat so close to him that the scents of your perfume and his cologne mixed; he still didn’t so much as reciprocate an inkling of what you felt towards him. He was sweet to you, of course, you talked frequently, you knew each other like the back of your hands. But he seemed to treat you no different to how he treated everyone else. That busy schedule of his didn’t make it easier, he had cancelled more plans than fulfilled recently, but you couldn’t blame him. The higher his rank in this organisation, the more was expected of him and the tighter his free time became. Across the three years that you had been affiliated with the group, Bruno was always a hard and consistent worker, something that both impressed and infatuated you.

Any normal person would give up after the first few months of failed attempts, not wanting to still keep giving their time to someone who wouldn't see them as they wish to be seen.

But you liked Bucciarati so much, too much for your own good. He was just so beautiful, so sweet, so breathtaking, like the colours of the ocean that sparkled with a tempting allure that captivated everyone, but could never be physically touched. The first day you met him, he already caught your eye. The way he carried his lean body under the open-chested suit he wore, his perfectly trimmed hair that framed his jawline. His deep blue eyes were mesmerising, though not as hypnotic as that deep voice of his or that laugh that made your heart flutter. There was a perfect blend of playful youthfulness and maturity about him, he was 28, but the smoothness of his skin and the brightness of his eyes made him look no older than 23.

A sharp flick to your forehead snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Hey?!” You exclaimed, slapping Bruno’s fingers away.

He scoffed in response and opened up the passenger door to his car. “Would you rather walk all the way back?” You realised that you had been standing in front of his car absentmindedly for the past few minutes.

You smiled awkwardly and slid into the passenger seat, taking the bag from Bruno’s hand and placing it on your lap while Bruno closed the door behind you and made his way to the driver’s side. He placed a hand on the back of your seat and looked behind you as he backed out of the parking space. The car felt smaller as his arm brushed yours and the proximity made you nervous every time he reached to change gears.

You wanted to say something…anything…maybe just tell him that you have feelings for him, now was as good a time as any. Maybe invite him out again tomorrow?

"So I heard Mista saying that there's going to be a week-long fair next week." You said, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. "Something to do with donations for the Children's hospital I think." Bruno hummed in response as he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. "You wanna go check it out on Monday? See if there's anything cool?" You said, as nonchalantly as you could while you stared out of the window by your side, watching the kids cycling down the street.

Bruno clicked his tongue and hummed. "Ah, I’d love to…” A ‘but’ was coming . “But,” bingo “Giorno wanted me to oversee something.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” You sighed. Bruno told you he would be free this week, so this must have been a recent development. However, a big part of you already knew he would be too busy. “Maybe I’ll ask one of the others to go with me.”

The rest of the journey continued in silence as Bruno remained focused on the road while you focused on him in the corner of your eye. His large hands gripped the steering wheel as he tapped on it lightly with his index fingers. He tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear and hummed to himself absentmindedly.

Red suits him. You thought to yourself.

The deep scarlet turtleneck contrasted his cerulean eyes perfectly and brought out the tan of his skin. The thick material clung to his broad chest, curving around his defined pecs and cinching at his small waist. He shifted slightly in his seat which made it twist around his torso and reveal a mere glimpse of his abdomen in a way that made your face go warm. You looked away shyly and cleared your throat, choosing to focus on the birds flying between the trees that lined the street of your home.

It almost annoyed you how flustered he made you, especially without knowing. You were confident, articulate, beautiful, someone who knew how to grab the attention of a room with a glowing aura and a charming outfit. You weren’t a stranger to flirting or receiving compliments from other people. In fact, with the playfulness of some members of your team, it wasn’t unusual to innocently flirt back and forth with the others. But to think that one man, one excessively handsome, generous man, could make your knees weak and cause your stomach to flip inside out with so much as a hand on your shoulder, was embarrassing to you.

He pulled into your driveway, parking right by your door. You both got out of the car and made your way into your home, stopping off at the kitchen to put the slightly melted ice cream away in the freezer.

Like almost perfect timing, there were several raps on the door, the rhythm instantly letting you know it was Abbacchio. Bruno walked over to the door, swinging it open to reveal none other than the man himself.

“I brought drinks.” He raised a white plastic bag, the clear outline of a wine bottle poking through.

“Awh no cakes?” You pouted. Abbacchio always made the most amazing baked goods, they were always so light and fluffy with such sweet icing and creamy filling. They would almost melt in your mouth, especially when he paired them with a serving of warm custard or chocolate sauce.

“You know I’m not your personal baker right?” He said as he placed his shoes on the rack. “You should at least pay me for my services.” His purple lips curved into a proud smirk. Abbacchio wore a tightly fitted white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, revealing the prominent veins on his forearms. The top few buttons were undone, exposing his muscular chest, while his long hair flowed just past his shoulders.

He made his way to your fridge, placing the drinks in his bag on the bottom shelf, before pouring himself a glass of whiskey from your cabinet.

“Oh sure, help yourself.” You rolled your eyes as he sat down on your kitchen island, facing you.

“You barely drink it anyways, at this point, it's just for me.” He sipped his drink and leaned back into the chair. He was technically right, the bottle (and others) had been a present from a civilian you helped a few weeks ago, as you weren’t an avid drinker of whiskey, it sat at the back of your cabinet gathering dust. Abbacchio, on the other hand, immediately jumped to open it the first time he saw it.

The room was suddenly filled with the sound of Bruno’s ringtone coming from his pocket. He looked down at the name and sighed loudly. “Please excuse me.” He walked out of the room, presumably sitting on your staircase, to answer the call.

“So…” Abbacchio turned to face you, leaning on his hand with a playful grin on his face, you groaned internally, already knowing what he was going to ask. “How was your little date with Bucciarati?” Abbacchio asked, rotating his glass in his hand, making the drink swirl around the edge.

You poured yourself a glass of water. “It wasn’t a date.”

“But you wore this?” He said, eyeing your tennis skirt as you moved to sit on the island opposite him. “In the wind? Were you hoping to seduce him with your legs?” Abbacchio teased before drinking the last of his beverage and placing the glass on a coaster.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, clearly a little irritated by him bluntly pointing out your outfit, before taking a sip from your glass.

He placed both hands on the marble surface of the island and pushed himself to lean towards you. “Ooh, you did more make-up today.” He pointed at your eyes. “I like your eyeshadow, it compliments your outfit.” He laughed and sat back down on the stool. Your eyelids were a soft shade of pink that matched your sweater. Your eyes were lined neatly with bold black eyeliner and your lips were coated with a glossy layer. While it wasn’t unusual for you to have a light layer of make-up, this was a slightly flashier version of you, one that Abbacchio knew was reserved for Bucciarati’s attention.

You sighed heavily, not even bothering to play along and give an excuse or come back. Instead, you gave a brief smile and a slightly soured “thanks”.

Leone groaned and stood up, causing the stool to be pushed back with a scraping sound. “You should just tell him you like him, don’t beat around the bush.” He washed up his empty glass in the sink. “Bucciarati is too dense to know when someone’s interested in him.” He dried his hands and sat back down. “Don’t waste sex appeal on him.”

“And who are you to tell me how to deal with Bucciarati?” You snapped back, sharper than you expected, and placed a hand on your hip with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay sheesh.” He raised his hands in defence. “Didn’t mean to strike a chord.”

You let out a deep breath “No, it's fine. Maybe I’m just not his type?” You leaned onto the island, a dejected expression on your face.

A large hand patted your head before ruffling your hair lightly. “Oh come on…everyone loves a good femme fatale. You're very attractive, you're smart, good at packing a punch." You snickered at the last comment. "I think Bucciarati is crazy for not reciprocating those feelings back."

"If you say so…" You exhaled again. "I asked him to go to the fair with me next week."

"As a date?" Abbacchio’s voice perked up as he took his hand off your head.

You waved your hand. "He said no, he was too busy.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” Abbacchio patted your head once more. “I would go with you, but Bucciarati asked me to help him out with some stuff tomorrow.”

You sat up properly again and smiled. “No worries, I’ll ask Mista.”

Bruno returned shortly from his call and the three of you conversed, with Bruno sitting by your side. Not long after, another set of knocks on your door was heard, this time, it was Mista.

“Hey!” Mista hugged you from the side, placing a kiss on your cheek while he held the side of your face. “We got snacks.” He lifted a large green bag stuffed to the brim with a bag of popcorn poking out of the top.

“Hey, guys.” You kissed Mista on the cheek back. “No Giorno or Fugo?” You looked around for the blondes, expecting them to come in after Mista and Narancia.

“They couldn’t make it.” Narancia took off his shoes and placed them next to Mista’s. “Giorno said something family related, came up. Fugo was helping him.”

“I see,” You locked the door behind them. “Oh, Narancia!” He turned to face you. “I got you that ice cream you like, bubblegum and mango right?” Your words were followed by a loud ‘thank you’ from the kitchen as Narancia rummaged through the fridge looking for the tub.

Once everyone was settled and the lights were dimmed, the CD was placed in the player and everyone gathered around the coffee table. Today’s pick was “Cujo”, as suggested by none other than Leone Abbacchio. The man was an avid Stephen King fan, of course, he wouldn’t waste the opportunity to show the cinematic rendition of one of his favourites.

The sounds of the family screaming as the dog barked violently outside the door flooded the room, sending chills down everyone’s spines, sucking up everyone’s attention.

“Hey, Mista?” You leaned in slightly towards the male and whispered.

His eyes remained locked on the screen as he tilted his head up slightly to listen to you. “Hm?” He asked, reaching his hand into the bowl of popcorn.

“You free tomorrow?”

His head snapped round to look at you, before pulling a puppy dog face. “Are you inviting me on a date?” He pouted, placing his hands on either side of his cheeks.

“No silly,” You scoffed and ruffled his loose brown curls. “The fair, I would rather go with someone than go alone.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “I thought you wanted to go with Bucciarati?” When you and Mista talked about the fair, it was under the impression that you and Bruno would go together, Mista was merely suggesting as he knew him better than you did.

“He can’t make it.” You said through gritted teeth, emphasising the “t” at the end.

“Oh…” He paused and frowned before giving you an empathetic smile and patting the back of your hand. “I’d love to go with you.” He grinned widely. “I’ll pick you up at noon?”

“Mhm!” You smiled back before leaning back into the sofa as you were before.

The movie ended but the lights remained dimmed as you talked to fill the time. The bottles of wine were exchanged between everyone as its volume quickly diminished. Jokes were shared with light giggles, playful teases, and the occasional flush of the cheeks. Narancia’s head found its way to your lap as he sat on the floor and hiccuped under the influence of what seemed to be his 100th glass. Ordinarily, the idea of your home being littered with wrappers and crumbs would drive you insane, but the relaxing aura of being with your friends, especially with the stress of your work, made you forget about the mess.

You turned to the side and noticed that Bruno’s hair was tied up in a small ponytail with two locks on either side of his face.

Ah…he’s just so cute.

His lips were pouted in a cute expression as he pressed the rim of his cup against them. He turned to face you with a wide smile, before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in close. You steadied yourself against him with a hand on his chest. The scent of alcohol in his breath would have bothered you slightly, if not for how flustered you felt against him.

“Cara…” His deep voice hummed in your ear as he buried his face in your neck. Bruno was quite a touchy person when intoxicated, not just with you, but with everyone, but of course, you were the only one to get so worked up. “I’m very drunk, I don’t think I should drive home, can I stay here tonight?” He moved to cup your face and pressed his face against yours. “Pleaseee?” He asked with such a babyish voice.

“Of course, you can, Bruno.” You patted his back. He gave you a long kiss on the cheek before standing up and wobbling over to the sink for a glass of water.

Abbacchio left first, planning on taking the bus back home as he was the least drunk and able to make his way to the station. Narancia and Mista followed soon after, they lived together, just a couple of streets away from you and were able to walk back.

That left you and Bruno alone. Of course, he had been in your home before, and you in his, but something felt different. You stood up and began picking up the bags of snacks, throwing away the empty packets, while clipping and folding the ones that weren’t.

Bruno joined you later as he helped discard the empty bottles and cans, leaving the last full bottle on the coffee table.

“You don’t have to clean up Bruno!”

He smiled sweetly at you as he brought the glasses to the sink. “It’s the least I can do to say thanks.” He turned on the tap and began washing up the glasses while you packed up the rest of the leftover snacks.

The two of you worked quietly as whatever soap opera played in the background and filled in the gaps. Once your living room was back to being spotless, the two of you settled on either side of your L-shaped couch, light glasses of wine in hand as you cleaned up the rest of the bottle.

Bruno swirled the deep red liquid in his glass, occasionally taking a sip. His right leg lay across his form with his ankle on his left leg. His arm stretched out across the back of the couch, fingers stroking the material and occasionally rubbing it with his hand as his eyes focussed on the television screen.

For what felt like the millionth time this day, your focus lay with Bruno. His hair was still tied in the same small ponytail as before and you suspected he forgot to take it down. Just a slight change in hair made him look different, he looked cute, sweet even. It brought emphasis to his soft cheeks that had started to flush a soft shade of pink as he poured himself another glass.

“What did Giorno want you to oversee?” You said, trying to initiate a conversation before the butterflies in your stomach drove you insane.

He paused. “A couple of guys were caught selling to kids,” Bruno replied with a slight frown, his voice less chirpy than usual.

“Ah, I see.” You knew how much the drug abuse epidemic bothered Bruno, especially when it extended towards those most vulnerable, like children and people who were just scraping by. You didn’t mean to dampen his mood and you tried to turn the conversation around. “I think it's great that you care a lot about things like this, you’re a really good person.” You shot him a smile as you topped up your glass.

He let out a short breath. “You’re flattering me too much.” He looked up at you with a soft expression as his thumb grazed the rim of his glass. You released a mental sigh, thankful that you managed to pull up the conversation before it spiralled into an awkward moment.

“I’m just being honest.”

He placed his glass on the coffee table and leaned towards you. “Well, you’re a better person than I am.”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head to the side.

He nodded with a wide smile. “You care a lot about other people, especially the people in our team. It’s nice that you also remember people’s interests a lot.” He remembered how you specifically chose flavours that everyone on the team liked. “I like that you have a big heart. It also means that you stand firm when people cross boundaries.” He looked down and played with his fingers. “You know how to make your presence take over a room and get others to listen to you.” He recalled how even the way you carried yourself, your walk, your expressions, could gather the attention of even the rowdiest people. “You’re confident in yourself and what you believe in, I think that’s very admirable.”

These words flowed out of Bruno’s mouth smoothly and naturally, as if it was nothing, but they had such an impact on you that you could feel them in the depths of your chest.

Of course, you would expect him to say something nice, you had been friends for years, but the idea of Bruno analysing and pointing out these specific sides of you was on a whole different level. Receiving such a spread of praise from someone as wonderfully put-together and admired as Bruno Bucciarati felt like the highest honour.

But a tiny part of you was hurt, upset at the fact that Bruno saw you in such a way and didn’t have feelings for you. Almost like it proved that despite how much you tried, Bruno may never have a romantic interest in you. He wasn’t misinterpreting you, nor was he viewing you just from the surface, he knew how you wanted to be seen, but that wasn’t what he was attracted to.

“And you say that I’m flattering you?” You scoffed as you felt your cheeks heat up and your stomach twist even more.

“I’m just being honest.” He gave a teasing smile as he mimicked your earlier phrase. He took a final swig from his glass and placed it back on the table. “Did Mista say he’ll take you to the fair?”

“Yeah, he did, though I’m sure the free doughnuts tomorrow are what’s making him go.”

The corners of his lips turned upward before flattening into a frown. “I felt bad about not going with you.” He exhaled.

“You shouldn’t, you’re just busy.”

“Well, I’m always busy…Does it not bother you sometimes that I have to cancel plans a lot?” Bruno leaned towards you.

“No.” You said earnestly. “You have duties to fulfil and those should come first.” You exchanged an understanding nod between the two of you.

Bruno looked up at the clock above your TV, realising it was already past 3 am.

“I should head to bed.” He stood up and stretched, making the bottom of his turtleneck ride up his body slightly. You nodded in agreement, before standing up and making your way to the kitchen to wash your glasses and dispose of the empty bottle. You switched off all the lights and made your way upstairs together before bidding each other goodnight.

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

You stirred your coffee idly, mixing in the two sugar cubes you added, as today’s weather report was read on the radio. Thankfully it was expected to be a relatively warm, sunny day, perfect for the summer dress you wore. It was a simple white dress with tiny black polka dots and puffed sleeves. The front was cut a little low, giving space for the pearl necklace you wore and you paired the dress with a pair of black platforms and a small purse.

“Good morning,” Bruno whispered as he walked into the kitchen, rubbing his head slightly.

“Morning!” You pointed to the coffee machine. “Care for a drink?”

He shook his head and sat by the island. “I’ll have one when I go home, thank you.” He looked up at you as you drank from your mug. “You look lovely by the way.”

You paused with the mug up to your mouth, slightly shocked by his sudden compliment. “Thank you.” You put your mug down and smoothed the sides of your dress.

“You have a very exquisite taste, your clothing and colour palettes always fit you so well.” He beamed, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Bruno…” You placed your hands on your cheeks. “You know, you can be a tease sometimes.” You waved a hand at him and resumed drinking your coffee.

“A tease?” Bruno tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Is it teasing to compliment someone for being glamorous?” He chuckled, pushing the seat back and standing up. It was times like this that you felt like Bruno just gave you mixed feelings, his words dangerously trod the line between playful flirting/compliments and genuine attraction.

“I need to head home now, so I’m not late.” You didn’t notice when he walked over to stand beside you. “Thank you for letting me stay,” He kissed the back of your hand and cupped the side of your face.

“It’s no problem, what are friends for?” You smiled back at him.

With a wave at the door, he was off.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you slumped onto one of the island chairs, the feeling of Bruno’s lips lingering on the back of your hand as you tried to finish your coffee. Once the white mug was empty, you walked over to the sink and washed it up.

The sudden loud honking of Mista’s car horn startled you slightly, making you jerk and drop the mug in the sink. You cursed out loud as the water splashed on your dress.

“Hey, beautiful!” Mista shot you a toothy grin as you walked towards his car.

You slid into the sleek black vehicle, taking in the overpowering scent of his cologne. “Beautiful?” You raised an eyebrow quizzically as you put on your seatbelt. “Since when were you so polite?” You and Mista’s relationship was built on anything but pleasantries like that, while he had joked around and called you things like “hot” or “smoking”, something as innocent as the word “beautiful” felt suspicious.

“This is how I am to all the girls,” He said with a proud tone as he pulled out of the parking space. “You should have faith in me.”

You pouted and put on a fake sad voice. “Oh, so I’m just like one of your other girls Mista?” You placed a hand on your chest and looked at him with puppy eyes. “And here I thought I was special.” The dramatic tilt of your head with the back of your hand on your forehead made him smirk.

“No no bella, you’re very special.” He pinched your cheek harshly with no regard for your pain. “You’re one of my favourite people.” He patted your cheek before returning his hand to the steering wheel.

“So does that mean I get to see what Guido Mista is like on a fake date?” You tapped your bottom lip.

“Maybe,” He turned to face you as he stopped at the red traffic light. “But I don't want you to fall in love with me. It might make it hard to work together, my charisma is too strong.” He patted your thigh and gave you an apologetic look. In as much as you were playing around, Mista genuinely wanted you to enjoy today as much as you could as he knew how badly you wanted to go with Bucciarati.

“Ha!” You snickered. “We’ll see about that.” You leaned back into the seat and watched the street pass by as Mista drove towards the coast where the fair was set.

The wind blew a little as you stepped out of the car. Mista held your hand in his, clearly going through with the idea of a fake date, and led you towards the entrance.

The sound of kids running around, enjoying the first day of summer as they pushed and tugged each other and ran from one attraction to another. Behind each set of children was a group of adults, hands full with various snacks, drinks and toys for the kids.

Mista pulled you over to a massive ride that swung the riders in circles on swings. It was currently in motion, causing the sound of screaming kids to spread through the air as it began to tilt side to side. “We have to go on this!” Mista shook your shoulders violently, more energetic than the kids around you.

You laughed at his enthusiasm and nodded in agreement. Once the current cycle was over, you rushed to get seats next to each other, close to the edge. Your hair blew in the wind as you spun around, the height of the ride giving you a view of the entire fair. Mista, on the other hand, was screaming throughout with a massive grin on his face.

You went on that ride 3 more times before Mista had enough and pulled you towards another ride, and another, and another. Somewhere during the House of Mirrors, you grew tired of walking around and latched onto Mista’s arm.

“Let’s get something to eat.”

Hand in hand, you walked through the various food stalls before settling on a food truck selling takeaway kebabs. You took a seat on one of the benches overlooking the sea as you ate side by side.

“I think I should give up on Bruno.” You sighed, picking at the salad in the box.

“Why?”

“I don’t think he likes me, or that he will anytime soon.” You took a sip of your drink. “I can’t keep getting hung up on him. But it's so annoying because I really do like him, he’s amazing.”

You found yourself venting to Mista, explaining all your feelings towards Bruno and how he acts in response. Mista sat quietly and listened to everything you said, occasionally nodding or giving a short response to let you know he was paying attention. Before you knew it, you had gotten everything off your chest.

“Urgh I’m sorry, you didn’t need to hear all of that.” You groaned, embarrassed by what you said.

“Don’t be.” He patted your back and hugged you. “I’m not that good with things like this, but I know that anyone would be lucky to have you, and even IF Bucciarati isn’t interested, maybe it's for the better. There are so many people out there and you never know your options unless you look for them. You are one of my dearest friends, the last thing I would want is for you to beat yourself up over this.” He cupped your face. “You can hang out with me, call me, text me whenever, I’ll always be free for you.”

“Mista…” You hugged him tightly. “When did you get so mature with words?” You mumbled into his shoulder. Mista was known for being nonchalant and high-spirited, you rarely saw this calmer, more mature side of him.

“Hey hey, don’t tell me you’re already in love with me, I warned you!” He teased and poked your back.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. You looked at your phone and saw that it was almost closing time for today. The brightness of the summer evening had masked how late it actually was. You looked around and saw that the area was almost empty and stalls had begun to close.

“We should get going.” Mista nudged you and stood up. “Actually, I have one thing I want to do.” He took you to a stall with bows and arrows and a row of targets along the back wall.

“ € 2.50 to play. Hit a target, pick a prize.” The owner stated, handing Mista a bow and arrow. “Three tries.”

To the shock of the owner, Mista not only hit the target three times, but one of his arrows managed to shoot right through the other. The owner’s jaw dropped as he watched Mista pick out three items from the stall, a stuffed octopus, a goldfish and a toy boat. He handed the octopus to you with a bow, to which you graciously accepted with a kiss on his cheek.

“Who’s the goldfish for?” You asked as you walked to the car.

“Been thinking about getting a pet.” He handed it to you as you got into the car. “Relax, I’ll take care of it, I’ll get it a nice tank and everything.”

“And the toy boat?”

“That’s just for the bath.”

You both laughed as Mista pulled out of the car park and drove you back home. You pressed your head against the window, reminiscing on today’s adventure. Excluding the talk with Mista, you hadn’t thought about Bruno all day…it felt… nice . Mista was a sweet person to you, you had been good friends for over a year, but something about today felt different, a good type of different. A feeling that you wanted to experience more of.

Mista took you to the market again the next day, and the next, each more fun-filled than the previous. Mista was good at getting you to relax and enjoy the day, washing your mind clean of stress and worry. The two of you had developed a routine. Thursday evenings were your trips to Rhode Island Coffee, a quaint cafe not far from Mista’s home, while Friday afternoons were for brunch at a large bed and breakfast with a surprisingly high-quality buffet for a very low price.

You and Mista had always been friends, he was the first person you met on the team, even before Bruno. He helped you loosen up, and you helped him calm down, perfectly complementing each other in the middle. But you felt like you were getting to know each other all over again, especially now that you found yourself with Bruno less and less.

Everyone had noticed that your time was slowly shifting from Bruno to Mista, but no one thought much of it.

Well,

Everyone but Bruno.

He laid on his back in bed, staring at his phone, the lack of activity making him frown.

She hasn’t said anything to me.

He thought to himself. Not just today, but in days . Usually, the two of you would talk every day, small talk at the minimum, but he hadn’t received as much as a “hi” from you. It left an uncomfortable taste in his mouth and a sort of discomfort he couldn’t pinpoint.

It wasn’t just the texting, it was everything. You would no longer hold onto his arm when you walked together, you stopped sitting next to him in Libeccio (now choosing to sit between Mista and Narancia). You never really seemed to want to hang around him, as much as you did with Mista. Of course, you weren’t Bruno’s pet, you had no obligation to be by his side 24/7, but the less you were around, the more Bruno realised how much of his routine consisted of you.

It felt like he was losing you and he didn’t know why.

Though it's normal to feel sad if two people drift apart isn’t it? He was getting worked up over nothing, this was natural.

She must be busy, she must be working on something.

He reassured himself, standing up from his bed and putting his phone aside. In fact, why was he waiting for you to message him, he should say something first. He was free today, all day, maybe you could visit that dessert place you liked again?

Hey, would you like to visit Brambilla’s today?

One minute passed, two, ten. No response.

His eyebrows furrowed, your profile said you were online. Maybe you left your phone online?

Or maybe you were just ignoring him, too busy having fun with Mista.

No, no.

Bruno shook his head, confused as to why Mista came into his mind. You were friends, you wouldn’t ignore each other out of the blue, he would hope that you would feel comfortable talking to him if you were going through a stressful time.

He locked his phone and attempted to continue with his day, helping himself to a nice lunch downstairs. His phone rang, just as he put a forkful of carbonara in his mouth, immediately he scrambled for the device and checked the name.

Oh.

It was Mista.

“Hey, Bucciarati!” He chirped in a completely different mood compared to Bruno.

“Mista…” Bruno felt a weird twinge in his side while talking to him, he ignored it and swallowed his food. “Can I help you?”

“Just wondering if you’re coming out tonight.”

“Tonight?”

The sound of Mista’s bed creaking was heard in the background. “Mhm…that club that guy…what was his name again?” Mista rubbed his chin and hummed.

“Puddu?”

“Yes, Puddu!” Mista exclaimed. “He invited us to that club, the VIP section.”

Clubs weren’t Bruno’s scene, he didn’t like the eardrum-bursting, migraine-inducing music, or the waves of drunk people cutting off the air and humidifying it with sweat. He was about to decline the offer until Mista spoke up.

“Y/n is so excited, it's cute.” He laughed. “She’s been dying for an opportunity to enjoy a VIP lounge.”

Bruno paused when Mista called you cute…it felt weird, it rubbed him the wrong way.

“So she’s going?”

“Yep, planned an outfit a week ago.”

“I’ll come too, just text me the time and address.”

“Sweet, see you later!” Mista said in a cheery tone.

Bruno hung up without a response and scratched the back of his head. There was an unusual…almost burning feeling, just below his chest that made him squirm in his seat. Maybe it was the regret of agreeing to go to the club.

Why did he even agree? Maybe because they would be in a separate VIP section? Away from the large crowds and in an area more enjoyable?

He shrugged his shoulders and accepted his fate as he tucked back into his food.

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

Evening rolled by, as did the event Bruno dreaded. He could just say no, change his mind and stay inside. But something in his heart told him he had to go.

Mista had sent the address and Bruno was already on his way. As it was summer, the streets were more crowded than usual, even for a Friday night, as more people decided to indulge in more late-night…activities.

The building was quite large and modern looking, sticking out in the modest neighbourhood. By the entrance was a large crowd, filled with various people dressed in a range of clothes, from casual clothing to more seductive outfits. Among the crowd were a few people donning high-end designer items, stepping out of luxury cars. Bruno assumed they too were guests invited by Puddu, the man was trying to rub shoulders with as many influential and powerful people as he could after all.

“Ah Bucciarati, right this way.” A woman in a low cut, sparkling dress held his arm, guiding him towards a room on the second floor. He noticed that this floor had its own bar and mingling space, smaller than the general area downstairs. She opened it to reveal the rest of his teammates sitting around a round table, small plates scattered across it. This room had its own stereo system set up, at least he wouldn’t have to listen to the trashy music being played downstairs.

“Surprised you came.” Abbacchio nodded at him, pointing towards an empty chair next to him.

“Well, I might as well see what he has to offer.” Bruno accepted the seat and looked at the drinks menu in front of him.

He scanned the list of cocktails, thumb pressed against his lips as he pondered what to order. He didn’t even notice the presence next to him.

“Narancia…how many of those have you had already?” You said softly, your voice catching Bruno’s attention. He looked up and saw you standing right next to him, leaning on the table slightly with one hand.

You wore a silk dress that hugged your body tightly, cutting low on your chest and held up with thin straps. The hot pink paired perfectly with your skin tone and eyeshadow. Your neck was adorned with a gorgeous gold necklace, and your wrists with matching bracelets. There was a certain allure about you, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it had to do with how he hadn’t properly seen nor spoken to you in a while. Bruno’s face turned a warm shade of pink as he realised that your cleavage was clearly in his view from this angle.

Bruno didn’t know what it was, but you looked different, there was something new about you.

It wasn’t unusual for you to dress in a way that caught everyone’s attention, nor was this the first time you wore anything revealing, but something about what you wore today made his throat close slightly as he tugged on the collar of his shirt.

“I haven’t had that many!” Narancia slurred, waving his hands in the air.

“When you’re able to separate your words, I’ll believe you.” You shook your head. You sat down next to Bruno, the only other spare seat. Bruno was about to turn and say something to you before Mista cut him off.

“Where’s the guy you were talking to? Did you leave him at the bar to wallow?” Mista leaned into you. Your conversation was unheard by everyone else as the music covered up any dialogue.

Everyone except Bruno that is.

“He’s charming…but I don’t know…he’s rubbing me the wrong way.” You folded your arms over your chest as you recalled the man that came up to you while you sat at the bar. He appeared slightly older than you, long black hair tied back, dark eyes, muscular build. He bought you a drink and took a seat next to you, revealing that he too was part of the organisation. You were usually quite good at spotting another person’s intentions just by looking at them, you explained to Mista that the look in his eyes made you feel unsettled, like he was hiding something from you behind that charismatic presentation. “But anyway, he went to the bathroom.”

Bruno felt that burning sensation in his body again, this time it spread up into his chest and neck, making his leg bounce under the table.

“Oh well.” Mista draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you close. “Plenty more fish in the sea, might as well enjoy yourself.” He stood up and held out a hand to you. “Let’s go dance!”

You took Mista’s hand without hesitation, letting him lead you out of the room.

Bruno didn’t notice how much he was staring as you left until Abbacchio slapped his back.

“Jealous much?” The older male scoffed before eating the piece of scallop on his fork.

“What do you mean?”

Abbacchio huffed and turned back to his plate. “No one stares at someone like that, with such an expression unless they’re jealous.” Bruno didn’t answer, instead, he poured himself a glass of water as Abbacchio kept talking. “Y/n this, y/n that.” The older male sighed. “Oh she hasn’t messaged me, she hasn’t spoken to me, she’s always with Mista, has she said anything about me to you?” Abbacchio mocked Bruno’s voice, much to his dislike. “Go tell her you like her.”

“I said I’m not jealous.” Bruno pushed back his seat loudly and stood up, an angered expression on his face as he exited the room.

“Bucciarati, I was only playing!” Abbacchio yelled back.

Well only partially playing. Abbacchio had known Bruno for 7 years, he could read Bruno’s expression like a book.

The private bar was busier now, more people gathered, ordering drinks and mingling. Bruno managed to squeeze himself onto a chair and ordered a drink from the bartender, trying to wash the sour taste Abbacchio’s words left in his mouth.

“Mista don’t!” Your laugh caught Bruno’s attention, just down the table, blocked slightly by the crowd of people, you were sitting next to Mista, grinning at whatever he said to you. His arm was draped once more over your shoulders, while his free hand held a dry glass with ice cubes in it.

Something in Bruno’s mind wanted to know what you were talking about. What was so funny that you had to give Mista that starry-eyed look you usually gave Bruno?

You rest your head on Mista’s shoulder, ordering a drink while you hugged his waist.

Bruno looked away, clicking his tongue. It dawned on him that this was probably the first time in a long time you had been at an event like this and the two of you had been separated. Normally, you would be sitting next to Bruno, arm in arm while you talked, making even an unbearable situation feel more hospitable.

“I’ll be right back!” Bruno heard Mista’s voice and turned towards you, watching him leave down a hallway. Without thinking, Bruno walked over to you, taking Mista’s seat.

“Oh hey…” You smiled, a little confused as to when Bruno appeared by your side.

“Hey.” He beamed, an expression that would usually leave you flustered and embarrassed. But this time it didn’t, the lack of time you spent around Bruno made it better to deal with your feelings towards him. You simply turned back to your drink and took a sip.

“I sent you a message this morning….but um…no reply.” Bruno cringed heavily on the inside, mentally face-palming himself. It made him sound so petty and needy to bring it up.

“You did?” You checked your phone, he was right. There was an unopened message from him. “Ah, I’m sorry, Mista and I were-”

“I get it.” Bruno cut you off and cleared his throat. “No problem.” The burning came back again, this time he could feel it in the tips of his fingers as he stared down at you. Was he angry with you? Upset? He couldn’t tell, nor could he fathom why he felt that way.

It was probably something in his drink.

Yes, of course. The drink. Bruno had ordered something called a “Poison Dart”, not knowing the ingredients.

Well, at least the name was fitting.

You were taken aback slightly by Bruno’s sharp response, the tone rubbing you the wrong way even though he maintained his usual outward composure.

“So you and Mista…” Bruno swirled his drink in his glass. “You guys seem really close.”

Your eyes lit up, making Bruno grit his teeth. “Yep! I’ve known him for so long, but it's nice getting to know him better. I think I understand why Narancia likes living with him so much!” You snickered.

“That’s…nice,” Bruno mumbled behind his glass, setting it down rather loudly on the bar table. “Though it seems that we haven’t had a chance to hang out in a while.” He tried to play it off as a light-hearted comment, but he could feel an unintentional weight to his words.

He should probably get rid of this drink.

“Yeah, I guess we haven’t.” You sighed, running your index finger around the rim of your glass. You weren’t ignoring Bruno, not at all, but after your conversation with Mista at the fair a few weeks back, you felt like you couldn’t force yourself to catch his eye anymore. While your feelings towards Bruno were still strong, it wasn’t fair to continue this one-sided charade.

You hoped that if he did have feelings for you, he would make them a little more obvious.

“Maybe we should-”

“Oh hey, Bucciarati!” Bruno looked up to see Mista standing behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Hey.” Bruno’s eyes remained locked on Mista’s hands, how they stroked your bare skin and how you didn’t so much as flinch under his touch. “I’ll leave you two be.”

“You’re leaving? At least stay and have a couple more drinks.” Mista tugged the sleeve of Bruno’s shirt. He would have left if he didn’t notice you looking up at him.

Maybe he should stay, after all, he was complaining about not being able to see you.

He sat back down and ordered another drink, making sure to avoid the Poison Dart and anything that appeared similar.

“I got tickets to that horror movie by the way.” Mista resumed his seat next to you, gathering your attention once more. “Previews!”

You grabbed his shoulders enthusiastically, making Bruno squeeze his glass. “Mista, how did you get these?!” Bruno raised an eyebrow, he never knew you liked those types of movies, you had never once shown any interest in them around him.

But somehow Mista knew all about you, knew everything about what you liked all of a sudden.

Suddenly Mista’s the one you like to share things with.

“Had to pull some strings, but it was worth it!” Mista’s words snapped Bruno out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the proud expression spread across his face. “I got them for everyone.”

“Ah but…” You turned to look at Bruno briefly before looking back at Mista. “Bruno doesn’t like horror fi-”

“No, I do!” Once more without thinking, Bruno cut you off. “I do like them!” He cleared his throat and sunk into his drink. He squirmed internally, realising he knew barely anything about the genre.

“Oh?” You looked back round at Bruno, tilting your head to the side. “You always told me you hated them, that they were all so unrealistic and had too much convenient plot armour.”

Ah shit.

Bruno nearly choked on his drink.

“That was before…I like them now!” He gave a wide smile, hoping, no, BEGGING for no further questions.

“Fair enough.” Mista shrugged before poking your cheek. “I’ve been making y/n watch all my favourites, I guess they’re rubbing off on her a little. You should come along then.” Mista returned the expression to him.

Though Bruno wasn’t looking at Mista…rather he was looking at how your fingers laced through Mista’s brown curls.

Bruno never liked people touching his hair, though, for some reason, it never bothered him when you did it.

The conversation faded into the back of Bruno’s mind as he watched the two of you engrossed in whatever movie you talked about. Mista said something to you that made you giggle and lightly slap his shoulder. He could tell from here that you were tipsy, not too much, but enough to make you more exuberant.

Ordinarily, this would be when Bruno would hold you up and take you home, letting you rest on his arm and lie in the back of his car as he drove you home. You would tug on his clothes and slur on every other word, in a way he thought was somewhat…endearing.

“Brunoooo.”

“Yes y/n.” Bruno smiled, moving you towards your bed.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, almost pulling him on top of you. “Yourereallypretty.” Your words rolled as one, making Bruno laugh.

“Well thank you, you’re very pretty too.” He pulled your hands off his clothes and kissed your knuckles. “But you should get some sleep now, you’ve had way too much to drink.” He ruffled your hair and tucked you into bed before leaving.

The memory brought a warmth that spread across his chest, a familiar fondness that made his lips curve upwards.

Too bad that warmth was quickly replaced with a numbing cold that spread to his head as he looked once more at you and Mista.

He didn’t like how closely Mista sat next to you or how focused you were on him. In his gut, he wanted to join in the conversation, say something so you could finally pry your eyes away from Mista. But he had absolutely no idea what he could possibly say.

Abbacchio’s earlier words returned to his mind, this time with a bitter taste.

He wasn’t jealous, absolutely no way. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, he wouldn’t be so petty over jealousy.

To Mista of all people, absolutely not.

As he said, he just felt a little off because he hadn’t seen or spoken to you in a while. You were both adults, he was 28, you 26 (the same age as Mista - though that didn’t matter), you were allowed to live your own life, as was he.

Did he particularly like the fact that you hadn’t been around each other as much? No.

Did he like the fact that Mista seemed to be everywhere like a leech? No.

But did that mean that Bruno had suddenly become jealous and had romantic feelings towards you? Definitely not.

Bruno dropped his glass with a loud bang on the table, you didn’t notice, not that he was trying to make you. He left silently for the bathroom, swatting out the guys smoking there. He turned the tap to cold and splashed water on his face, trying to get his head together. His brain was causing him confusion over nothing.

He rubbed his cheek slowly, fingers digging into his skin as water dripped onto his shirt. After a long, heavy sigh, left the bathroom, making his way back to the bar.

“Mista…”

The music was loud, but Bruno could still make out your voice, though softer than usual, and of course, you were whispering Mista’s name. He clenched his fists, and walked into the bar, stopping in his tracks when he saw you and Mista.

Mista’s hands were on you, one on your thigh, the other cupping your face, while both of yours were on his chest. But that wasn’t what caught Bruno’s eye.

No, what caught Bruno’s eye was your lips, your plush lips were pressed against Mista’s. Somehow in the few minutes Bruno took to clear his head in the bathrooms, you and Mista had started making out.

Bruno didn’t know what he felt, or how he should. It was a sting to his chest, the kind of sensation one would get from a stinging nettle. He didn’t say anything, and neither did he watch the two of you anymore. He silently walked past you and made his way back to the private room, only Abbacchio was there now.

“Bucciarati!” Abbacchio waved him over as he slumped over the table. Bruno pulled up a seat next to him and immediately Abbacchio poured him a drink of whatever it was he had been drinking.

“No, I think I’ve had more than enough to drink today,” Bruno said with a bitter tone through gritted teeth.

The tone didn’t go unnoticed by Abbacchio. “Have you accepted that you were in fact jealous?”

“No, because there is nothing to accept.” Bruno contradicted his word and chugged the glass in front of him. “I don’t know where you get these silly ideas from, you’re 29, not 19.”

“Ouch, no need to bring up my age.” Abbacchio placed a hand on his chest in a dramatic display of hurt making Bruno roll his eyes. “Besides, this has nothing to do with age.” Abbacchio picked up a piece of garlic bread from the centre table. “It’s to do with you being all mopey because y/n spends all her time with Mista and not you and now you’re regretting not saying anything sooner.”

“That’s absurd.”

“But is it a lie?”

Bruno paused and clicked his tongue before scoffing. “Whatever happened to two people just appreciating each other platonically? Everything has to be labelled as romantic.”

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with close platonic relationships.” The older male shrugged as he leaned into his seat. “But that isn’t really what’s happening though is it?”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink.” Bruno stood up, pulling Abbacchio’s arm simultaneously and dragging him out of the room. He made sure to not look towards the bar, in case you and Mista were still there.

“Hey look, y/n is a very beautiful woman, and the two of you are very close, there’s nothing wrong with having feelings here and there.”

Bruno completely ignored him as he waved down a taxi, neither of them was sober enough to drive all the way home.

The pair sat at the back, keeping the barrier between them and the driver up and the windows rolled down.

Abbacchio made it his personal goal to ensure Bruno accepted his jealousy towards you and Mista, hoping to play matchmaker and finally get the two of you together. He was well aware that you and Mista were platonic, but it was fun watching Bruno squirm and try to keep his cool.

He figured out Bruno’s true feelings just a week ago when Bruno complained yet again about you being with Mista. Everyone had gathered at a restaurant for dinner and when it was time to leave, you found out that your car had a fault and would need to be fixed the next day, meaning you couldn’t get home. When Bruno realised this, he jumped to your aid, offering to drive you home, but you told him that you were going to leave with Mista.

Now that was purely coincidental, Mista happened to approach you first. But Bruno didn’t know that, to him, you had chosen Mista over him.

He stared at you the whole time, watching you converse with Mista and get into his car, disappearing into the dark streets, with that pensive look on his face. From then, Abbacchio noticed more and more things about Bruno’s demeanour towards you and Mista.

Like how he had a scowl every time you hung out with Mista, and the irritated look on his face every time his name was brought up. Or the way Bruno’s eyes lit up when it was just the two of you together, his hands itching to hold yours and how he started copying Mista by giving you kisses on your forehead and cheek instead of the hand.

Bruno most definitely had feelings towards you, but Abbacchio couldn’t tell if he was being stubborn, or just plain dense.

Though the irritation on Bruno’s face from Abbacchio’s comments implied the former.

It would have been a lot easier if Abbacchio told Bruno that you had feelings for him and not Mista. But a. it wasn’t Abbacchio’s place to tell Bruno that and b. Bruno should be able to understand his own feelings by himself.

The taxi pulled up in front of Bruno’s home, but before he could leave, Abbacchio tugged on his arm. “If you want to keep lying to yourself, no sweat, but don’t complain if she and Mista get in a relationship.”

That ought to do it!

Bruno stood in his driveway, his back facing the taxi as it continued its route to Abbacchio’s home, and his fists clenched tightly. First, he sees you and Mista kiss and now Abbacchio plants the idea of you and Mista in a relationship in his head.

He sighed heavily, dragging his feet into his home and up to his bedroom. He lay defeated on the covers, too tired to take a shower or change. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out, the bright light blurred his eyes before focussing on the caller ID.

It was you.

Bruno answered without hesitation, putting his phone to his ear.

“Bruno!” You sounded relieved.

“Yes y/n?” He cleared his throat and answered.

“Ah I was worried, you left without saying anything, you’re okay right?”

He smiled to himself. You were worried about him? It made his lips curve into a wide smile. “I’m fine bella, Abbacchio and I took a taxi home.”

“Ah okay!” You exhaled loudly. “I’m glad you got home safe, sleep well Bruno.”

“You too.”

You hung up and he dropped his phone on his bed.

His head felt slightly clearer now as he pushed himself off his bed and changed his clothes. He found a cosy black sweater stuffed in the back of his wardrobe and tucked himself into his sheets.

Despite the comfortable sheets around him, Bruno lay awake in bed that night against his will. His mind was clouded by the conversation he had with Abbacchio.

He’s crazy

He thought to himself, turning over under the sheets.

He didn’t have feelings for you, you were his friend! You had known him for years, it was natural to want to be around each other.

You were friend material! You were nice to him, fun to talk to, adorable.

Adorable?

Well, that’s a harmless compliment, nothing wrong with being adorable. There are a lot of normal things that are adorable, animals, babies, clothes, it didn’t mean anything.

Bruno just thought you were cute, sweet, pretty, that’s all. Friends see the good in other friends, no?

You were stylish, confident, polite, all just admirable attributes. Nothing to do with feelings.

Yes, you had a lovely laugh that made Bruno smile, and there was a way you held his arm that made him feel calm and stable.

His mind drifted to the time he spent the night in your house, how generous you were for letting him stay with no sign of grudge or inconvenience, your generosity and hospitality towards the people you cared for was something Bruno noticed about you. It was then that he realised that it hurt him a little when you said you didn’t mind that he cancelled plans. It seemed that a part of him wanted you to care, wanted you to miss him, wanted you to enjoy his presence.

Ah, shit.

He pulled a pillow over his head in shame.

Abbacchio was right.

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

“Y/n this is amazing!” Narancia shouted, stuffing his mouth with a large forkful of cake.

“Really?” You smiled, a toothy grin lined with red lipstick. You gave a relieved sigh as you cut yourself a slice of cake. “I was so worried I added too much sugar.”

It was Giorno’s birthday, and while it was expected that the young Don of such a large organisation would throw a lavish party, he instead wanted something quiet, a day with friends having good food and pleasant conversation.

Part of your gift to Giorno, alongside a set of luxury, handwoven, silk neckties, was his birthday cake. He kept telling you not to make anything fancy, you of course ignored that and applied all the baking lessons Abbacchio had offered you to create an extravagant 3 tier cake covered in sky blue and lavender icing, decorated with edible gold balls and flowers. On the very top was the number “23” in large gold writing.

“No no, it's just perfect!” Giorno smiled, a pink blush on his cheeks as you pinched them. “But you really didn’t have to do this.”

You pouted and took your seat next to him. “Anything for you Giorno.”

Bruno sat opposite you that day, squirming in his seat because every time he looked at you he felt his cheeks flush.

Recognising his feelings for you should have made things easier, but instead, it just meant he got flustered anytime you were around him. He would trip over his tongue, his voice would crack, his palms would get sweaty and he would overthink any interaction with you. Having you sit directly opposite him, wedged between Giorno and Mista, wearing that fitted, long-sleeved black shirt and that short plaid skirt made him want to stare at you longer. Your jewellery was subtle, pulling more focus to your outfit itself and the way your hair was styled.

Bruno felt a nudge in his side, he looked over to see Abbacchio giving him a sly smirk.

“Don’t.” Bruno mumbled, bringing his glass to his lips.

Abbacchio snickered, stirring his glass of tea. “Well, I’m glad you’ve finally accepted it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So when are you telling her?”

“I…” Bruno hadn’t thought about that, telling you his feelings. “I don’t know.”

“Well do it soon, don’t let Mista steal your thunder.” He said in a sing-song voice.

“Guido, you got icing on your cheek.” You sighed as you wiped his face with a napkin.

“Guido?” Fugo raised an eyebrow, looking over at you. “When did Mista start going by ‘Guido’?”

Bruno didn’t even listen to your explanation.

You called him Guido ?

No no no, that was the only thing left that was special between you and Bruno. No one else called him by his first name, and you didn’t have a special name for anyone else.

Abbacchio was Abbacchio.

Narancia was Narancia.

Fugo was Fugo.

Bucciarati was Bruno to you.

And Mista was Mista not Guido.

Bruno ignored the conversation around him as he stood up and left the dining room, heading to the upstairs balcony of the Don’s home.

He sighed and pushed himself against the bar, groaning loudly at the knot in his stomach. Did this mean that you liked Mista? That the two of you were a couple?

He and Mista were complete opposites.

Mista was extroverted, Bruno was introverted.

Mista had curly hair, Bruno’s was straight.

Mista was hairier than Bruno was.

Mista was more nonchalant.

More playful.

Funnier.

Maybe that was just what you liked. He couldn’t fault you for having a type, after all, you can’t always control who you’re attracted to.

He rubbed his head, annoyed by just everything, embarrassed by how he overreacted over a simple word. He turned around and paused, surprised to see you behind him.

You smiled, waving at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He swallowed, watching you move to stand next to him.

“Are you okay? You slipped away without saying anything.” You asked, your fingers brushing against his hand.

He pulled away sharply, already feeling tense from being so close to you. “I’m fine, just needed some air, I think I ate a bit too much.” He joked.

“Ah okay.” You laughed awkwardly. “Guido-”

“Are you and Mista dating?” Bruno cut you off as soon as Mista’s name left your lips.

You were taken aback, stunned by why Bruno would even ask such a thing. Lately, your friendship seemed to be unstable, somedays it would be like Bruno didn’t want anything to do with you, other days, it would be like all he wanted was to be around you. He had been giving you mixed signals and that only made you more confused with the feelings you had towards him.

“Bruno, why would you ask that?”

He didn’t face you, instead, he scoffed and pushed himself up on the balcony bars and looked at the view.

“Maybe because you can’t help putting your hands on him and letting him touch you as you please.” Bruno would never say something like this to you, but there was a pain in his abdomen that gave him the confidence to do so. “Or maybe because you had his tongue down your throat the other day.” Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped at the comment.

“You saw that?”

“Everyone probably saw that.”

A chill went down your spine as you lowered your head in humiliation at the condescending tone in his voice. Bruno saw you and Mista kiss…

Ah, now he would never want to be with you.

He thought less of you.

If any of the other guys said this to you, you’d shut them down in an instant.

But this was different…this was Bruno for goodness sake. The guy you were head over heels for, the guy you looked up to the most.

Yes, you and Mista had kissed, but it was a drunken mistake, something the two of you laughed at and brushed under the carpet. It didn’t mean anything other than give evidence of what happens after you pass your limit of drinking. Mista was chill about it, he knew you liked Bruno and that you wished it was Bruno you kissed instead of him. There was no confusion, nor any mixed feelings regarding that night.

Is this why he had been acting weird around you recently, why he had that scowl on his face at the nightclub? Why he would swing from one extreme to the other? Because of Mista?

“Bruno,” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him. “It’s none of your business what happened that day and I see no reason for you to hold it over my head and look down on me!” You said through gritted teeth, not wanting the conversation to be heard downstairs. “We are adults Bruno! Shit like this doesn’t need to be a big deal and it isn’t, it meant nothing to either of us, there is nothing between us! I didn’t think my life would turn into petty gossip.”

Before he could answer, you left the balcony and went back downstairs. Bruno couldn’t hear anything from the dining room, but it didn’t take long for you to come out from the entrance and drive off.

Bruno cursed to himself, a hollow abyss forming in his gut as his ribs became heavy.

What is wrong with me?

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

Bruno had tried for 5 days in a row to contact you, phone calls, texts, hell, even emails!

But no response, nothing.

He didn’t blame you, not in the slightest, he would avoid himself too. But he would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. Seeing someone he grew such feelings towards, completely cut him out like that, do everything in their power to not be around him.

But he deserved it, he had no right to speak to you that way and all he wanted to do was apologise. Today was his only chance to do so.

“Hey.” He waved at you as he stood by the booth. He noticed you sitting in at the back of a cafe as he ran errands. You were alone, which gave him an opening to talk to you.

You looked up at him briefly, not uttering a word.

Your heart was heavy, his words rang in your head and you felt a knot form in your stomach.

When you didn’t respond, Bruno decided to make the next move and sat opposite you, both hands on the table with tense shoulders.

She won’t even look at me.

The silence from your table managed to drown out the sound of the cafe as customers chatted away over cups of coffee and cakes.

“Y/n.” He mumbled, letting out a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” His hands tightened into fists as he looked down with a dejected expression. “It wasn’t my place to act that way about you and Mista, it was none of my business, I apologise for how I acted and for hurting you.”

You poked your slice of cake with your fork, nodding at his words. “Well, I’m glad you realised that.” You looked up at him. “But that’s not all, is it Bruno? Why did it bother you so much that I was hanging around with Mista?”

Ah…he was hoping that you wouldn’t bring this up. Bruno was still ashamed of his jealousy and how it made him lash out. It made him feel childish.

Well, he was childish.

“I talk to everyone here, but you only got annoyed when I was spending time with Mista.” You stirred your cup of tea with a spoon, prodding the teabag. “You’re meant to be my friend Bruno…I would like to think that you would be the last person to judge me.” You looked deep into his eyes. “You know I would never judge you.”

Bruno swallowed the lump in his throat, dropping his hands to his lap.

“The least you could do is offer an explanation.” You bit your lip, almost regretting what you were about to say. “Is it because you…had feelings for me?”

“How did you know?”

So it was true. Bruno did develop feelings for you.

“Well, you always told me I was good at spotting people’s intentions.” You scoffed, taking a sip of your drink. In reality, Abbacchio was the one that exposed Bruno. The day after Giorno’s birthday, you told him about the argument with Bruno and he explained how Bruno felt towards you. You were…shocked…to say the least. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?” Your voice cracked a little.

“I didn’t know how I felt until recently.” Somehow his honesty just made you feel worse.

“But you know how that looks right? To me?” You dropped your mug on the table. “It makes it seem like you only started seeing me that way when I was around other people, like you just liked the attention I gave you.”

While all you wanted was for Bruno to see you as you saw him, if it was simply because he liked the attention from you, and not because of you as a person, you would rather you remained platonic.

“No no!” Bruno leaned forward, instinctively holding your hand in his. “That wasn’t my intention…I swear.” He squeezed them, trying to convince you that he wasn’t like that.

You could tell he was being sincere, there was a certain glint in his eyes. “Did you know how I felt about you?”

“How you felt?” His face morphed into a slightly bewildered expression.

“Jeez Bruno…” You rolled your eyes, slipping your hand out of his and covering your face. “I’ve liked you for years .”

“Oh.” Bruno’s jaw hung open, completely stunned by this news.

You liked him? For years?

Bruno’s mind drifted to times when it had just been the two of you. Times where you would hold his arm, play with his hair, and jump to sit next to him whenever the group met.

How could I be so stupid and not think there was anything there?

“Just ‘oh’?”

Bruno was snapped out of his thoughts. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Two years and you didn’t know I liked you?” You gave a weak smile as you dropped your hands.

“I’m not that good at interpreting feelings like that.” Bruno returned the same look. “Everyone thinks I am…but I’m really not, I’m horrible without direct approaches. I didn’t intentionally ignore your feelings, I wouldn’t do that.”

That glint returned, the one that assured you that Bruno was being open and truthful.

You snickered to yourself. “Abbacchio was right.”

“Hm?” Bruno cocked his head to the side.

“That you’re too dense to notice things like this.” You gave a teasing smile as you ate a forkful of the strawberry cake in front of you.

So Abbacchio knew you liked me? Does that mean everyone else knew too?

It made more sense now, why Abbacchio kept trying to get Bruno to admit his feelings. The tips of his ears turned pink at the idea of him being the only one out of the loop about this.

“I’m sorry for making you feel strung along.” Bruno rubbed the back of his neck.

“It's okay.” You wrapped your hands around your mug, the two of you staring into each other's eyes. Bruno’s finger moved to stroke the back of your hand, watching you let go of the mug and let him hold your hand in his.

“I really am sorry, I can’t imagine how you felt all this while, especially when I-”

“Stop apologising.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “But Bruno…can you promise me that something like that won’t happen again? I would like to think that you’re the kind of person that can be upfront about things like this and won’t lash out...I will also uphold the same standard.”

“I won’t let it happen again, I promise.” He meant it, he didn’t like that side of him, he found it ugly. If he ever felt that jealous or that annoyed, he would make sure to talk to you about it before it got too bad.

You nodded with a grin as the two of you sat in silence, Bruno’s body edging closer to the table. Your eyes closed slowly as his lips pressed against yours softly.

Once.

Twice.

Before his hands moved to cup your face, pulling you forward slightly. It was a tender kiss, one that only touched the surface yet made your heart race.

He pulled away, not forgetting to kiss your hand before leaning back into his seat. His nose and cheeks were a light shade of red. He looked away shyly, an endearing expression on his face that you just wanted to see again and again.

“Bruno…” You sighed, knowing that this would be as good a time as any. You knew how you really felt for a while now and kept it secret from anyone, wanting Bruno to know first. “I love you, Bruno.”

His cerulean eyes widened, and the blush darkened and spread from his nose to his cheeks while his heart felt like it was on the brink of explosion.

“I love you too bella.”

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