Outside the rarely closed Libbeco, which had been ransacked earlier by a rival gang, Abbacchio stood in the dead of night, waiting for Bucciarati to come out after paying for the repairs. As usual, he was smoking a cigarette.
As Bucciarati exited the dimly lit Libbeco, he immediately turned to Leone, who was standing under the streetlamp, smoke covering his bruised face from the earlier fight.
He sighed and gently placed his hand on Abbacchio's chin, tilting it to see if there was anything worth getting checked out.
Abbacchio stared into Bucciarati's eyes before smacking his hand away and spitting out his cigarette.
He looked back at Bucciarati's confused face and said, "It's not fair, Bucciarati..."
Bucciarati, still shocked, asked, "Leone, what are yo—"
"It's not fair!" Abbacchio interrupted, his voice bitter and defeated.
"Every time I try to figure out my stupid feelings for you, you do things like this, making me fall in love again and again and AGAIN."
Bucciarati looked in awe. Without hesitation, he gently grabbed Abbacchio's hand. His skin felt rough yet gentle, just like him.
Abbacchio looked at the dirty road. "I love you, Bucciarati. I love, respect, and care for you so much... what should I do?" he murmured.
Bucciarati opened his mouth, only to be shut down by Abbacchio again. "No... no, don't. I'm not ready for whatever you're about to say."
Abbacchio gently pulled Bucciarati into a warm hug.
"Leone..." Bucciarati muttered before sighing and returning the embrace.
He knew Leone was right; whatever he said right now, he couldn't handle. That's how Leone was—changing the mafia was easier than changing Abbacchio's nature.
Abbacchio was grumpy, cold, and stubborn, but he also cared.
No matter how much he pretended the gang was the most annoying, he cared.
Whenever Fugo was ready to rage, Abbacchio was there to prevent a murder.
Whenever Narancia and Fugo broke stuff, he was ready to pay the Libeccio owner a hundred apologies and money for damages.
No matter how stupid and odd Mista's questions were, he was always ready to entertain and answer them.
Even if it made him sound like a psychopath, he would still entertain and answer Mista's questions.
And no matter how rough he was with Giorno in life-and-death situations, he was always there to scold him or offer warnings.
Even if he never listens, Abbacchio cared about him above everything else.
And no matter what, he was ready to lay his life down for Bruno, whom he swore to follow.
As they embraced, footsteps were heard. Quickly, Leone let go, almost making Bruno feel too alone for comfort.
As they turned around, they saw the rest of the gang chirping and chatting with each other, each enjoying ice creams. Mista and Narancia ran up to them first, each holding two ice creams.
Mista exclaimed, "Abbacchio, you like mint, right?"
"Nah, it must be black currant," Narancia chimed in.
Abbacchio noticed that Mista was holding an extra mint chocolate chip, while Narancia had an extra black currant. Bucciarati asked, "What's up with you two now?"
Mista grinned, "We know you like mint AND black currant, Bucciarati, but we weren't sure about Abbacchio..."
Narancia jumped in, "I bet he likes black currant more, and Mista said mint!"
Both exclaimed in unison, "Abbacchio, pick one!"
Sighing, Abbacchio grabbed both ice creams and handed mint to Bucciarati, knowing he only tolerates black currant at most.
As he licked the black currant, Mista made a defeated sound while Narancia cheered, and Giorno and Fugo caught up with them.
As the gang continued chatting about Narancia's win, Bucciarati and Abbacchio stayed close behind, hand in hand.
They walked in silence, a flood of emotions left unspoken... perhaps for the better.
As they walked, Abbacchio thought to himself, "I prefer strawberry, but there's no way I'm saying that."
