Getaway Car (Abbacchio x Reader [Angst])
I thought of this fic while listening to Taylor Swifts “Getaway Car”, and I just got Abbacchio vibes from it for some reason. Also, I apoligize if it seems rushed. I wanted to post this before Vento Aureos last episode ToT
Love was bad luck in Abbacchios eyes.
It did nothing but serve as a distraction to his work, as well as cause unnecessary situations.
You were the main reason he concreted this mindset.
You stroke up a conversation with the male one faithful night, ignoring his intimidating front, and though it was rare, Abbacchio decided against brushing you off.
Surprisingly, you two hit it off well. Slight touches against his forearm, playful nudges, it all indicated to the male that you were interested in him.
Tipsy and not thinking straight, you and Abbacchio exchanged numbers.
It wasn’t supposed to go further than that, but it did.
Abbacchio soon learned that he should’ve brushed you off from the start.
“Abbacchio, do you mind helping me?” You asked in an innocent tone, the shower water running down your entire body.
He sighed in fake annoyance, letting out a ‘Here, dolcezza’ before squirting shampoo into his palm.
His fingers worked their magic on your scalp, causing you to relax your tense shoulders in contentment. Once the suds began to grow, a mean prank popped up in the males mind.
“(Y/N), look.” He scooped up a handful of the bubbles in your hair. Turning around, you gasped with surprise as the male clapped his hands together. Bubbles splattered everywhere.
A giggle escaped your lips as your faintly callused hands hit his chest in retaliation. That’s when Abbacchio felt the warmth in his chest grow.
That feeling. That warmth that ignited in his chest every time he met your touch.
It should’ve been the cue for him to leave, to tell you goodbye. For him to pack his bags and disappear.
But he let it carry on like the affection-starved fool that he was.
He fell deeper in love with you when you huddled up to him for warmth. You acted as if he was perfection, even if he thought he was the complete opposite of it.
The day Abbacchio told you about his occupation and affiliation with Passione, you had accepted him so quickly, he had to make sure you heard him right.
Even still, he could look like he was attacked by a frightened street cat, but you’d marvel at him as if he were a masterpiece created by a skilled artist.
“You’re too warm for me not to hug you, Tesoro.” His heart would swell as you murmured sweet nothings into his neck. The blankets around you two were a mess, but you kept each other warm with your bodies. A rare smile graced the white haired males lips.
“I have to leave early for somewhere tomorrow.” His smile faltered at your words.
“What time do you leave?” “Ah, you might still be asleep, amore.” He tightened his arms around your waist.
A lighthearted laugh escaped your lips as you pressed yourself closer to your lover, “I know, I’m so unfair. I’ll make it up to you soon.”.
Abbacchio would be lying if he told you that he had never pondered on what your occupation was. The shifts were always bizarre.
His mind drifted to the options of what your work was, but he stopped himself in fear of the chances of you actually being...he didn’t want to face the possibility of it.
He left his worries in the hands of his future self, despite understanding that it could only cause him burden and grief.
It was a Saturday night when he saw you pointing a pistol towards a civilian.
He was only outside for a stroll, at least until he noticed a familiar silhouette.
Abbacchio unknowingly followed you into a deserted part of the city, watching as you walked into an alleyway.
He stayed hidden as you spoke, a different tone in your voice than when you’d talk to him.
“You still owe us the money. It’s been 3 weeks now.” The voice you used was cold and calloused, contrary to your normal loving and sweet tone. It was like you were a completely different person.
The person at the business end of your weapon responded quiveringly fast, “Please give me more time! I promise I’ll transfer all the money once I have it! I’ll—“ they didn’t get to finished, instead being interrupted by a deafening gunshot.
Abbacchio gagged at the noise, the dinner he ate threatening to spill onto the concrete. The sound of the loud bang brought him back, way back to the memories he would often revisit.
You were the reason his habit of sulking into the past stopped, so why did you have to also be the one to bring it back so violently?
He snapped his head away, his throat closing up at the grotesque imagery he was imagining. Blood splattered on your face was too much for the male to handle.
Abbacchio peeked back upon hearing a whimper, one that wasn’t yours. He sighed in relief upon seeing your smoking gun aimed at the sky.
The unharmed stranger stood still, your fire of warning clear as a piece of glass.
Their mouth was shut close as you dropped the wielding hand to your side.
“You’ll eat the next bullet if you don’t quit whining. I’m not afraid to make noise.” The tone of your voice was threatening, comparable to a red light signalling that something was terribly wrong.
Continuing, you leaned back on the wall. “I’ll give you another week. You’re lucky boss sent me instead of the usual men he sends off. You’d be dead if you were to encounter them.”
The person nodded their head, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on their face. They choked on their words, still dazed from the gunshot.
You snapped at them, interrupting their quickened heaves, “Get out of my sight. If you say anything more, I’ll change my mind.” With those words, the civilian scurried away, running into the darkness.
Abbacchio watched in the dim lighting as your eyebrows twitched downwards. You hit your lip as you faced the wall, tears dribbling down your cheeks.
The facade you put on crumbled before him. Abbacchio was confused. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he knew who you truly were.
At this point, he didn’t want to know.
Your hands clasped at your mouth, silencing your sobs.
Crouched down in the alleyway, you vented out your frustration at yourself.
Chest heaving, Abbacchio heard a whimper of “I never wanted this”.
The male froze upon hearing his name.
You thought you were alone when you spoke to yourself, a strangled “Forgive me, Abbacchio” exiting your lips.
The door opening and closing caught the males attention. He had run home, hiding in the shadows in the process.
He was slumped over the living room couch, hair a pony-tailed mess, and eyes swollen.
“Abba! I’m home!” He relished in your voice, drinking it up like the wine that sat in front of him.
Abbacchio laughed to himself bitterly, ‘The other facade is on.’
Skipping into the living room, you called out for the male. “Abba! I have the supplies you forgot to buy. Didn’t you need some— Amore? What’s wrong?”
Abbacchios face fell upon hearing the worry in your tone. His focus was on the nearly-empty bottle of wine propped up on the coffee table.
“Hey, answer me.” You sat down beside him on the couch, bags forgotten on the floor. Concern was plastered all over your face.
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and hiding his face on your collar bone.
“You’re a really good actor, tesoro.” The low vibrations of his voice sent chills down your spine.
“What makes you say that?” You quivered slightly, Abbacchio laughing into your shoulder.
He sighed after his giggling fit, you felt two wet droplets fall onto your t-shirt.
“You managed to hide being in a gang from me.”
Eyes wide, you felt the males face rise up from its place on your shoulder. His eyes were wet as he looked into yours.
“Just rip my heart out already. Tell me what you were doing in that alleyway.” You flinched as he practically sneered his sentence out.
You were shivering, contemplating your reply.
“You weren’t supposed to find out.” The white haired male felt his heart crumble all over again at your words. Fucking hell. He should’ve seen this sooner. Way sooner.
He felt the sugarcoated lies he built around you crumble as you explained.
Everything you told him was all canceled out by a loud ringing he heard, reminiscent of you shooting your pistol at the sky. The only word he could comprehend was “gang”, but that was all he needed to hear in order to understand.
He stood up, walking over to the wall to hide his face into with his arms.
The fact that the name of it was not Passione was all that he needed snap back to the present.
Your embrace caught him off guard.
Crying against the toned man, you let out a sob. “Forgive me.” Your arms around him still felt loving, tight with the emotion of desperation.
“Please forgive me for hiding all this from you.”
The warmth in his chest was a different kind of fire. It burned brightly.
It was the type of fire that could sting ones eyes with its violent smoke.
And sting Abbacchios eyes, it did.
“Why do you have to be in Passiones rival gang?” He managed to choke out, facing you to drop his head onto your shoulder. “What are you going to do now?”
You looked down, hoping, praying that he wasn’t implying what you were thinking.
“Abbacchio, we’ve been together for this long. I’m sure it’ll still work out—!” “—And what if it doesn’t?” His cold interruption to your frantic speaking made you freeze.
“I’ve already put you in danger by being your lover.” He placed his hands on your shoulders. “To also be in Passiones rival gang is suicide for you.”
Abbacchio lifted his head from the crook of your neck.
“You need to leave me. Your gang doesn’t know yet, but if you stay with me, they’ll learn soon.”
You held onto his hands. “Leone Abbacchio, I am not leaving you! How can you be so selfish to ask me for such a thing!” Abbacchio stood, unresponsive to your cries, shaking your hands off of his.
“You can’t just tell me to leave you! You know damn well more than anyone that I can’t do that! I love you too much, Abbacchio!” You grasped his suit, hoping that he’ll come to his senses. Maybe this would incline for him to stay.
Everything was going so well, so why did he have to find out?
Abbacchio winced at your expression. He wanted to keep you by his side, he truly did, but the thought of your life being at risk because of him caused Abbacchio to feel sick.
He pried your hands off of his suit.
“If you’re not going to leave,” Abbacchio pushed you away gently, “Then I will.”
Abbacchio ignored your begs and cries for him to speak with you, reaching for the doorknob.
“I called Bruno in advance.” Abbacchio started, “He’ll be here before you know it, and then I’ll be gone.”
Abbacchio proceeded outside.
The white haired male refused to face you. He didn’t want to be tempted into changing his decision by seeing your hurt expression.
“Just forget about me.” He told you nonchalantly. His heart hurt, but in his mind, this was for your own safety.
“What do you mean forget you—?! You can’t just leave me like this Abbacchio!”
Hair disheveled and eyes puffy from all the crying, you were a mess kneeling at the doorway.
Bucciarati was already there, like Abbacchio told you. The short haired male sat silent in the driver seat, watching in pity as you yelled for your now ex-lover.
Watching him get inside the car ripped your heart into two.
You made no effort to try and pull Abbacchio away from the vehicle, already accepting that it would be fruitless.
That didn’t stop your wails for him, however.
Abbacchio felt himself die in his getaway car, shedding his own tears in the process.
This was for your safety, he reminded himself.
“Don’t leave me like this!” Was the last thing he heard before Bucciarati finally drove off.
He never let go of the memories you two shared.
He replayed your form over and over. Your face cuddling into an invisible him on the bed, simply being in the living room lounging around, he replayed everything he remembered of you.
The new rookie Bucciarati introduced to the team only made him feel worse. That damn blondes attitude reminded him too much of you.
Still, he visited your old home, now abandoned, and let Moody Blues do its thing.
With each replay, he felt himself crumble more and more.
Love didn’t exist anymore. At least not to Abbacchio.
