Bruno Bucciarati | 2

It was another night in Libeccio. Another meeting for Team Bucciarati… But Bruno just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You were all eating at the usual table and he found himself staring at you every few minutes, having to be reminded of things by Abbacchio.

As the meeting ended though, Abbacchio pulled Bucciarati to the side, a secluded corner around the back of the restaurant where no one usually was. He saw him acting odd, and his lack of experience with romance just made him think Bucciarati was sick.

And he was…he was lovesick, and you had infected him with your beauty.

He had left his bag below the chair, and you knew he kept a pack of spearmint gum in it. He always did. He liked to chew on them when he thought about what he wanted to say to someone else but didn’t know how to say it. So you stuck your hand in, just to feel the smooth surface of an envelope inside. You assumed it could’ve been cash, or even a check… but it was addressed to you. Now you had a right to know!

So you slipped it into your bag and began to leave after saying goodbye to the two men. Once home in your apartment, you opened the letter to find out that it wasn’t any letter, but one he was going to give as a confession. And not just an average confession like ‘Oh, I fell in love with you,’ or even ‘Oh man, I love being your friend,’ but something that tugged at your heartstrings.

He wrote about you. The things he loved about you and the impact you had on his life. How his heart fluttered when he saw you and his cheeks grew red at the idea of holding your hand. The soft look in his eyes whenever he spoke about you. The way he held you close, even if it meant falling asleep on top of each other, because that's what friends do. How he wanted nothing more than to kiss you and hold your hand and kiss again and kiss some more, because that’s all he wanted. To suffocate against your lips is a death he’d wish for.