PSEUMINO, VENTO AUREO.

L. ABBACCHIO

═ ☆. YOU SPENT THE WEEKEND WITH YOUR head all over the place. There was the matter of Sale, who was still running around after you'd failed to catch him a few days ago in Capri. Then there were the girls who'd harassed you, your words stuck in your mind like prickly thorns. You had avoided replying to Trish and Giorno's texts asking how the meeting with Abbacchio had gone. You were still conflicted about what exactly hanging out with them meant—if it was for some kind of misguided validation on your part.

To take your mind off things, you left campus for a bit. Your first instinct was to go to the café, but things were still tense between yourself and Fugo. You decided to go into Naples proper instead, hoping a bit of fresh air and people-watching would do you some good.

The sky was overcast, and a slight wind blew through the air. You passed by storefronts and businesses, your eyes skipping past preppy young people and stately older couples. When was the last time you had bought anything for yourself? Maybe that would be good for you. Trish would know what style of clothing looked good on—

Is she even really my friend to be thinking about her like that?

You paused at a high-end boutique, admiring the stylish outfits the mannequins displayed. Wasn't college supposed to be a chance at meeting new people? How was it that your pool of friends was still so tiny compared to the thousands of students who went to Sapiena?

There's Narancia, I guess. And Fugo, if he weren't pissed at me. I wonder if Mista or Bruno would consider themselves my friend?

You felt like you were overthinking this. Friendships shouldn't be overthought, should they?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't realize you'd continued to move down the street. Now you were on an unfamiliar street lined with neat apartments and corner stores.

You swore quietly, slowing your steps. Which way was back to Sapiena? You turned on your heel, intending to retrace your steps. Someone left the apartment building on your left, and you peered closer at them, wondering why they seemed familiar. They were writing something down in a small leather notebook, long, light hair fluttering at their back. He was wearing a pair of dark corduroy pants and an oversized button-down, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes.

Is that—

You gulped. Of course you would have to run into Abbacchio out here. The cop-in-training forcing Giorno to drink piss was a story you desperately wanted to hear, but it wasn't as though you were friends. You briefly thought about trying to catch Abbacchio's attention, maybe asking for directions, but decided against it.

At almost the exact moment you began to walk away, Abbacchio looked up.

"Afternoon," he said.

"Hi," you replied awkwardly. You half-hoped that would be the extent of your conversation, but Abbacchio surprised you by coming closer.

"Are you looking for something?"

You felt your hackles rise. "Are you looking for something?"

Abbacchio grunted, drawing his white hair over his shoulder. Abbacchio was wearing a prim purple cap on top of his head that you would've never expected from him. It looked cute, although you probably would've earned a slap if you said so out loud.

"This is my partner's apartment," he said, nodding towards the building. "I thought I might be able to find something."

You remembered Abbacchio mentioning his partner the other day. From the way he'd been talking about him, you had to assume he meant his partner from the police academy. Abbacchio seemed to genuinely care about them, as cold and stoic as he was. You must have been close.