Leone Abbacchio : Return

1.4K 41 12


[Originally unoriginally named Nights in White Satin]

Lip trembling, you placed Bucciarati's spaghetti down in front of him, straining a smile across your face.
"Buon appetito, Signore Bucciarati." [Enjoy your meal, Mr Bucciarati.]
"Ah, grazie, Y/N." He noticed as you turned away slowly, serving tray lay flat against your stomach. You were always cheerful when you brought him his order in the restaurant. Eyelids drooping, a sigh made it through your chewed down bottom lip. His knife and fork never moved, the Italian mobster too busy gauging your gestures. Asking you to sit down you obliged, avoiding eye contact at all costs. "Is everything alright?"
Thinking back to your boss bollocking you earlier for not having a word with Bucciarati, you stalled for a second before answering. You didn't want to bother such a busy and kind-hearted man.
"Well, sort of. It's my fiance. He's... A little out of control at the moment."
"Out of control? In what sense?" Cocking an eyebrow, he feared you were being brutally beaten or worse. Much to his relief, your next words made his heart sigh.
"Leone's depressed," you wailed, cracking on your final syllable. Burying your head in tears, apologies didn't usher Bucciarati away as his hand found it's way to the back of your shoulder for comfort. "He keeps disappearing and coming back in a state; if he comes back at all. He shouts at me and calls me names, so I call him them right back but it's no use. He's that cop that was dismissed six months ago for the bribes." Searching his mind, the mobster remembered. Leone Abbacchio, stripped of his rank as a police officer for admitting to accepting bribes in order to keep the peace around him. It was bittersweet, Leone thought he was softening the blow yet he just made it worse. "I'm afraid of what he'll do to himself more than anything. I didn't want to bother you but, the chef made me promise to speak to you. I trust you."
"If I go and speak with him, will you smile and greet your customers for the rest of the day?"
"I'll do it for the rest of my life!"

Days passed, yet he never returned. You roamed about your house on your day off in your socks and one of Leone's huge, oversized jumpers, his scent still clinging to it. The rain was pouring, it's pats on the glass turning to heavy pelts. The overcast sky was an absolute eyesore, reminding you of his dark clothes, the silver lined clouds like his long, shiny hair slinking down over his face. Curling up on the settee, emotions hit you like a bus, waves of guilt showering over your entire body and out through your tear ducts. Rocking yourself back and forth, your hands sought comfort in some form other than him. All you wanted was Leone, your wonderful Leone. After a long fit of sobbing, your puffed eyes and exhausted body crashed on the sofa, awaiting empty dreams, much like the empty house you were currently residing, your only solace in the broken radio on the mantel.
Clicking the door gently, the man in question entered the house, creeping like a mouse. Popping his head through the archway leading into the living room, his ombre eyes found your sleeping form, goose-bumps popping up on your legs from the chill. Grabbing a blanket from a living chair, he tossed it around in his hands before covering you up in it with a small, satisfied smile. Maybe he could reform his life after all. Kneeling before you, your face so peaceful in sleep was a comfort to him. It was a moment he'd missed seeing for so long. Pressing a marking kiss to your brow bone, it was promptly wiped off with his thumb amongst a mumbled apology before he made his way to the kitchen across the way, fixing up something to drink for you both. He'd barely switched the kettle on before he was alerted to a familiar bang and clatter, your moaning whine reminding him about your bad habit of rolling off the sofa mid slumber.

Scrambling on the floor, you held your head in pain and rocked back and forth.
"Be careful, you stupid brat," a baritone voice reminded behind you. Gasping, you turned to the noise, worried it was a concussion. Holding your breath, the huge goth fell to his knees, trapping you inside his tight embrace against his chest. Silence gripped you for a second, until clarity informed you it was him, he was back! Clinging to his arms, you looked up to meet his sympathetic gaze. A large hand stroked the back of your head, feeling your silky tresses in between his slender fingers.
"Yeah, it's me. Brat." Eyes filling up with tears, you couldn't hold back your cheesy grin of excitement. Your fingers felt along his face, starting at his jaw, sliding up his jowls and caressing his cheeks as your head tilted to the side. Pouncing, your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, warm tears stinging your cheeks as you sobbed into his shoulder.
"You came back." Reciprocating, he snuggled his chin into the crook of your neck, knotting his brow at your reaction. "Y/N," he moaned, stretching his lips a little through a squint. "Y/N, I found a new job. Working for Bucciarati."
"Let's just start again. Not everyone gets a fresh start."
Images of his late partner flashed through his mind, triggered by your words but unbeknownst to you.
"Yeah... They don't..."

JJBA x ReadersWhere stories live. Discover now