JJBA Imagines

Abbacchio: Thunder

Question for readers: Favorite song at the moment?

Warnings: none

It was quieter than most nights at the Passione headquarters. The gang had gone out on a mission and wouldn't be returning until later at night. You had the entire house to yourself. Nearly.

Bruno didn't think it necessary for everyone to go on the mission, claiming it would be a simple task that the rest of the gang could handle.

That left you and Abbacchio.

Your relationship with Abbacchio had always been strange. It was unlike anything you had with the other boys. Most attempts to make conversation with him ended in failure. A one-word response or a grumble under his breath, and he'd walk away. You never took it to heart. After all, that's how he treated everyone. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to get closer to him, to crack open the shell he lived in, to see behind his steely gaze. You wanted to know what made him so hesitant and distant. Even Bruno pestered him to be more friendly, but for whatever reason, he seemed to want to flick you away like a speck of dust on his coat.

Maybe tonight would be different. It was just the two of you, he'd have nowhere to hide. You thought.

But alas, he still managed to avoid you the entire night. You'd ask him if he wanted to watch a movie, or listen to music, or talk, but he declined each offer. He did, however, eat dinner with you. It was a small gesture but you took it seriously. After dinner, you ended up alone once again, when Abbacchio returned to brood in his room.

The tv played quietly as you began to drift away on the couch. The room was dark, save for one lamp, creating a soothing orange glow. Sleep was seconds away from you at this point, but you violently gasped when a low rumble of thunder followed by the crackle of lightning shook you out of your peaceful state.

A cold laugh rang out from behind you, spooking you even further.

You whipped around to see Abbacchio grinning mischievously. To your surprise, he wasn't in his usual attire, but instead, he wore a fitting t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His headphones were resting around his neck.

"What the hell!? Don't scare me like that," you yelped. You don't know when he had crawled out of his dark bedroom, but his timing was poor.

He laughed harder "I can't believe you're scared of a storm."

Ever since you were a kid, the ominous rumble of thunder terrified you. The way it shook the house, the way the lightning flashed viciously through the windows instilled fear into your bones. It was something you never grew out of. And now you were getting laughed at for it, only making you feel more childish.

"I'm not," you lied, "it just startled me."

He laughed again, grabbing something from the kitchen. It was so rare to hear him laugh. Even if it was at your expense, it still sent tingles down your spine. "Right," he replied, feigning belief. You watched as he filled a glass with water and retreated to his room just as fast as he had appeared.

You let out an exhausted sigh. That might have been the only amount of conversation you would be able to get out of him tonight, but it would have to do.

The plinking of rain continued as the thunder grew closer. It was late. You'd gone to bed hoping to get some sleep before the storm became too loud, But minutes turned to an hour as you laid in your bed, wide awake as the thunder pounded, you couldn't help the tremble in your hands as you tried to cover your ears. You were wide awake, and until the storm blew over that probably wouldn't change. You flipped the covers off your body, pressing your feet to the wood floors.

Another boom of thunder resounded through the house making you squeak. You quickly tipped-toed out of your room sneaking into the room down the hall.

Abbacchio's room.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute. He was awake.

"What the hell are you doing," he asked whipping his headphone off.

"I'm sorry. know I shouldn't have just barged in, but I lied earlier when I said I wasn't scared of storms," you confessed.

You tried to build your courage for what you were about to say next, but you couldn't stop your voice from wavering. You took a deep breath, "Could I?" You hesitated, "could I stay with you for a bit?" You asked shyly.

"No." He reached for his headphones again.

"I can't sleep," you blurred before he could drown you out.

"Not my problem," he sassed.

"Please," you begged. "Just for a little while, until the storm passes," you pleaded.

He looked to you, and then to your trembling hands. He sighed, admitting defeat, "Fine, but only for a little while."

The corners of your mouth perked up in a small smile as you slipped under the covers of his bed. You felt the warmth of where he laid as you squeezed in next to him. Being so close to him made the heat rise in your cheeks.

He turned out the light leaving only the glow of the city through the window to illuminate the room. He didn't say a word or even look at you as he laid back onto his bed.

You had the perfect view of his back as he tried his best to pretend you weren't there.

"Abbacchio," you called to him, "can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"Why do you hate me?" You asked quietly.

He was still and silent, stuck in a pensive state.

You huffed, continuing through his silence, "I've tried to talk to you, and I've tried to get to know you but it's so hard. You make it so hard-"

"I don't hate you," he cut in, finally turning to face you.

You froze, "You don't?"

"No."

"Then how come you're constantly avoiding me?" You asked defensively.

"Because the moment I let you know me, you'll realize that I'm not good enough, especially not for you," he confessed, his eyes never meeting yours. You know he meant more than just being good enough when it came to gang business. He didn't want you to see his past or his shortcomings.

Your breath hitched in your throat. "Abbacchio," you reached out to touch his shoulder. His body went rigid under your touch. It was quiet as you gazed into his eyes. "Don't say things like that. You'll always be good enough," you added.

"But I don't think you'll ever see me the way I see you," He sighed embarrassed for sharing how he felt with you, "never mind, it was stupid of me to say anything,"

"No, it wasn't. I just wish you would have told me sooner. I care about you, Abbacchio," you said, bringing your hand to his cheek to stroke it reassuringly. He wasn't expecting you to express such feelings towards him. It was almost surreal.

You watched as he melted into your touch his eyes fluttering shut as he did. You never thought you'd see this side of him, So vulnerable and honest. You brought your face close to his so your noses nearly brushed against each other. You placed a single, soft kiss on his cheek. When you pulled away his eyes were open, purple irises desperately trying to capture the moment.

Without hesitating you pulled him In for another kiss, this time, on his lips. Your bodies molded perfectly into each other. His arms wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. The kiss was heated and passionate. His tongue sliding over your bottom lip before exploring your mouth. He took charge, flipping you over so he was mounted on top of you, his legs on either side of you as his arms caged you in. His lips worked feverishly to ravish your neck, sucking and nibbling lightly. Meanwhile, your hands were tangled in his hair, tugging at it to bring him as close as possible.

When he pulled away his breathing was ragged. "Do you want this," he asked.

"Yes," you breathed, "I want you."

He smiled and pressed his lips to yours once again.