#lozzo

Hound was proud, Hound didn’t trusted in anyone. In Hound’s mind, there was probably no one he could trust in but himself. “If you want something done, do it yourself” seemed a philosophy the dark haired could accept and live up to. Lozzo understood this because he was also a loner; he didn’t liked being alone but he also pushed people away without noticing. Now even more, as he continued to run away from the army, drifting into a state of isolation.

Hound was lonely. That was the truth behind his façade, behind his anger, behind his obstinacy. That much he was sure of. However, he didn’t knew how deep that loneliness was engraved into him. He didn’t knew the first thing about Hound. They were men that lived only in the present, both feeling the breathing of death in their neck from time to time. That’s why they never spoke about the past.

Hound wasn’t sincere. He just couldn’t. So much tying him up, preventing him from doing so. Lozzo didn’t necessarily hated that, it was after all, an essential part of Hound’s identity. And having grown fond of the assassin in the last months of knowing him, he had come to accept it. There was also some part of playing poker in it, guessing from the slight changes in his expression the words concealed beneath, the thrill and excitement of a bit of danger.

Hound never spoke his feelings, or his thoughts for that matter, so Lozzo never expected to hear anything close to that. And that’s why he never said anything either. If he crossed that bridge by speaking up, he felt like the same thread that kept them together would break into pieces…

“…that’s my pizza…asshole…go eat…somewhere…else” Hound’s sleep-talk on his side made him turn around to look at him, beautiful face slightly lightened up by the lights of the city, coming through the open window.

It wasn’t unusual that the dark haired would start this kind of night ramble when extremely tired. Days of hard work especially those when they faced dead by inches, usually brought the talking side of Hound into his sleep. At first he had been quite attentive to it, expecting to find something to laugh about or some strange secret to hold into, but that faded quite early. Even in his sleep, Hound would never talk about his past. His topics usually being Lozzo being and asshole and/or something related to food, like now.

Seeing him like that was a cute sight. Drool falling from his lip and a small blush on his cheeks, dark hair over his eyes.

The stress of having a difficult mission usually led him to nightmares, to unsettling dreams or insomnia. He could hardly believe the assassin could sleep so soundly.

Sighing a bit, he reached forward to that sleeping face, caressing his forehead and moving his hair with it. He liked the feel of Hound’s hair under his fingers, so soft and easy to play with.

“Lozzo…” the calling of his name startled him a bit, retreating his hand as if the other was about to wake up. However, Hound continued to be into a deep sleep.

“What, puppy? Gonna complain about me eating your pizza? Or about me being an idiot?” He chuckled, joking at himself as he looked down at hound, clear blue eyes reflecting the red and green neon lights in the outside.

“…don’t…leave me…”

…

Silence. There was nothing he could say. Hound’s voice had sounded so, real.

Hound was never sincere, he never said what he thought, and he never expressed how he felt. Like a game of poker, he thought he had read him through. But he haven’t. Not completely.

“…Lozzo…I…” his voice sounded so conflicted, his eyebrows closing together in his forehead as if he was suffering. Beautiful lips parting softly.

It was the first time Hound’s sleep talking ever meant anything. The first time it carried a meaning.

Wait, that wasn’t right.

He just haven’t noticed. He just didn’t cared to notice. Hound’s sleep talking was always about him. It was trivial, but it was always about him. Hound was looking at him. Hound was always thinking about him.

“…love…you… don’t go…where I can’t…follow you…idiot”

Lozzo’s eyes widened. A word he never expected being directed to him, feelings he never hoped anyone would have for him.

I AM an idiot.