prismatica | text | un: fantasma

Hang on, I'll be there in a moment. Do you have anything sharp with you?

just my wit haha
you dont have to come im not gonna do anything

And that's the pinnacle of sharp, but not tangible! Unfortunate.

You've already done something though, and I'm tired of sitting here while you do it, or making things worse. So I'm going to help.

i told you im not so great
knda wothless actually

id say the door is locked
but mody blues is a fucking traitor

--Worthless? Leone.

[Had he started the Boyfriend Pacification Migration before even replying? Maybe so. At any rate, Avdol's affection for Moody Blues has just rocketed up since he's indeed able to open the door with ease.

Extra helpful since he's carrying a pillow under either arm, which he unceremoniously tosses beside Abbacchio once he finds him.]

Here. I have a knife if you want it. Stab them, scream into them, whatever you want bar suffocating yourself with them. They give enough resistance that it's satisfying.

Aren't I? Fucking look at me.

[He already knows he shouldn't have done it, but he did it anyway, smuggling wine with him. It's not like his problems are a secret, and he's going down an old horrible path again because that's what he always does. Leone Abbacchio: Man of Bad Habits and shit.

He's draped himself over a modest loveseat, his makeup already have long since run with tears and dried up awhile ago. A scathing look is given to Moody Blues, who doesn't seem to have great footing right now since his user is pretty damned trashed right now.

Abbacchio grunts and looks tiredly down at the pillow, numbly grabbing for it.]

I don't know who else I'm meant to be looking at right now-- Magician's Red, please help him out.

[For the love of god, Magired, hold that poor tipsy Stand upright-- oh okay, hugging is his method of choice for today, that's fine. As long as Moody Blues isn't having to wobble on his own two feet; that can't be helpful.

While there's more Stand Lovin' happening, Avdol squats beside the loveseat and licks his thumb; all the better to start cleaning up the mascara tracks, just in case anyone else decides to come on in. (That, and it's a way for him to touch Abbacchio without going into 'coddling' territory. Right now he just wants to crush him in a hug just like Magired's doing, but it just doesn't feel like that'd be the right tactic in the long run.)]

We can't keep doing this, Leone. I know it's not at all easy, which is why I won't let you go it alone, but we can't keep doing this. So let it all out, and once you're a little less in your cups, we can have a talk.

I'm a goddamn disaster, Mohammed. Why are you even bothering?

[Moody Blues looks relieved as hell, and clings onto the big warm chicken Stand with all of his might. Which isn't a lot, but the affection is there, Abbacchio wanting comfort but trying to shove it away, whereas Moody Blues just commits and buries his face into birdman's neck.

Abbacchio closes his eyes as Avdol starts cleaning up his face. He wrinkles his nose, not because it's nasty but because it's sweet, sweeter than he thinks he really deserves.]

Y'know what's fucked? Before Bucciarati all I wanted to do was die because I thought that's all I deserved. Then I did, and I wasn't ready, and I'm still not. Yet all I end up doing is fucking it up anyway.

[There's a part of him that wants to be petty and tell him he doesn't want to talk -- but Abbacchio's always felt better following someone else's strength. So he obeys, groaning as he works on sitting up and trying to figure out what he wants to do.

So he shoves his face into the pillow and just starts screaming.]

[Avdol opens his mouth, then closes it because WHAT IS THE POINT OF TALKING THROUGH THE HOLLERING. That's not going to help!!! At least now it feels like he can smile. Little steps forward. Acceptance instead of stubbornness. He's so, so proud.

Instead of talking, he rolls forward into a kneeling position and rests his forehead on Abbacchio's knees while he lets all that shit out into the pillow, practically buzzing with relief and affection now that his solution isn't getting rebuffed (stupid as it is). Just sits there and listens to the screaming until it's done with, pretending to not feel Magician's Red preening Moody Blues via ghost jaw movement what the fuck Magician's Red stop that shit.]

...You're my goddamn disaster, and I love you more than anyone in any world I could ever go to. So I'm glad you weren't ready, and you're not ready, and you're here to fuck things up. I don't expect you to never fuck things up; that's an integral part of the human experience. I just don't want you to keep hurting yourself like this when there have to be better ways to go through your feelings.

Even if it's harassing pillows. We're going to find out what works for you, and to hell with it, you're going to go home alive. When we get home, I'm going to commit arson until the Moon Knights or whoever figure out how to keep you and Miss Sugimoto alive. So you're going to have to learn to cope healthily for when you get back.

[you can talk over his SICK SCREAMS AVDOL

Against the pillow, he lets out a choked sob, because even though he's cried a bunch today he's not really done. He can't handle how sweet and loving Avdol is. Distantly, he can feel Magician's Red, his warmth, and apparently his beak, but Moody Blues doesn't seem to mind at all, basking in the preening. Hmm hey their Stands are so gross and cute ugh.]

Mohammed...

[His fingers dig into the pillow. He wants to mash his face into it again, or rip it apart, or something. But he's tired all over again, and fucking great he's had to get drunk and cry around Avdol twice now yikes. Well, never let it be said Abbacchio isn't a man of habit.]

...I love you, and. Fuck you, I want-- something. Us, in the future. Even if you're twice as old when I see you back home I don't care. But I know I've already been selfish, asking you to live.

[Even better; Magician's Red is preening the fuckin', the head flappy bits. You know the bits I'm talking about. Absolutely disgusting and adorable in one, somehow? Doesn't seem like he's going to be deterred for at least the next ten minutes, either; more just a tangible manifestation of Avdol's constant urge to be intensely tactile minus his social graces.

Like he has any with his head on Abbacchio's fucking lap, but U Kno.]

I love you too, Leone. And I want you to be selfish. Being selfish means you're thinking about yourself over everyone else, and if anyone deserves that, it's you. So...I'm not just going to fix everything, when I get home. I'm going to find you, and not just some other you but you you, this you, the you that loves me back, and even though I'm going to be old enough to be your father, I'm going to be with you and Lunatia's government is just going to have to deal with my crimes until they make this a reality.

That's my decision, and it's because you were selfish. So thank you. Now I'm going to be selfish and drag you out of your own tar pit, inch by inch. Is that alright?

[It's weird, feeling the preening on Moody Blues' hood, but it feels kinda nice too. A distant affection, both his and not. More importantly, he's reaching down and resting his hand on the back of Avdol's neck, looking at him almost desperately.

He wants that kind of future to be true. And he supposes that it's just enough to try for it.]

Yeah. That's all right.

Uh. Come up here? With me.

My pleasure. As nice as this view is, I'd rather be on more even standing for my neck's sake!

[The upsides of squatting; easy standing! Makes plonking down onto the loveseat and pulling Abbacchio into a proper cuddle a lot easier too, which is nice because he's been wanting to do this since he walked through the door. Just cuddling the everloving fuck out of this beautiful mess of a man to try and temporarily plaster over his hurts.]

Can I ask about your plans for the future? We have to start making them now, and all I have is the vague plan to get more chickens.

[God damn yeah he's going to shove himself into boyfriend cuddles now. Abbacchio almost just buries his face into Avdol's neck, kind of wants to cry again at how nice it is, but he's not as trashed as last time so he has some dignity about it. Barely.]

Uh. I'm not really the kind of guy who plans ahead for anything. You mean plans here?

For everywhere. Here. Home, when I find you. I might've put you on the spot, so you can think on it...

But I want you to at least think on it. What we could do when we're at home, and we don't have to worry about chroma this and moons that. [Just like Magician's Red, Avdol cranes his neck (as much as he can when he's built like a brick shithouse) to try and hook Abbacchio in closer still, at least above the shoulders. Then it's time for a good ol' bout of cheek-to-hair-rubbing, careful to try and keep from knotting that perfectly lovely silver hair with his affections.

But there's no way he's going to let their sights go on anything other than the present and future in appropriate measure, no. So he'll keep gently pressing the matter as much as he needs to to drive home the fact that yes, this is the goal, there's going to be a future if he has anything to say about it.] Even if they're little ones, like 'what plants to grow in the windowsill planters' or 'what colour bedroom should we have'. Those are important too.

And you're going to have to meet my mother, too. Plan for that, hm?

[God, he has to do something he almost never does: think about the future, think about what's ahead of him, what could be rather than what was. He winces against Avdol, then closes his eyes, trying to think.]

I don't actually have any family for you to meet. [Well, besides the mafia, but he hasn't even explained the fucking mafia to Avdol yet, has he?] Not conventionally, anyway. But I'd meet yours, if you wanted.

I'm not gonna make you have purple walls. Uh. Like a beige? [That seems the most inoffensive color.]

Mm, that's alright. I only want you to meet my mother, to be honest. If she's still alive then...I don't actually know if she will be. But I want to meet the people most important to you, certainly.

And if it'll make you happy, I'll paint every wall purple. I just want you to know how hard I'm going to work to find you again, alright? And I want you to trust that I'm going to do it, so that we can have purple walls and enough rooms for all of your friends to stay overnight at once. I'll plant purple roses out in the front garden. We're going to have a garden, I'm sorry to say; that's non-negotiable.

You already know Narancia and Mista. So that'd really just be Fugo and Bucciarati left. [giorno who] They're all I've got.

[He chokes out a laugh, because he's ridiculously touched that Avdol would do that for him. Because of course Avdol would.] Just some of the rooms, then. And the others can be whatever color you want.

S'fine, I can't promise I can garden worth shit though.

Not anymore they're not...But alright, I'll remember that. Six bedrooms, including the master for us. You'll have to think about what sort of architecture you want, too. It'll be a big house, after all; that sort of thing's important. Maybe we can get a little loan off the Speedwagon Foundation; they'll owe me big after everything.

[It's not a laugh, but Avdol still snorts softly, starts braiding Abbacchio's hair up as he tries to imagine this huge house in Italy, even if it's a somewhat ridiculous little dream for how grand it is.] I'll take care of the gardening, though. You just enjoy it, do whatever you want. We'll live out our early retirement in peace, so you'll have a lot of free time.

...How are you feeling, Leone? A little better, thinking about us having a huge family dinner with your friend circle?

Six. Holy shit, you can make some of them room together, you know.

[But if it all happens, then-- hell it's kind of a dream, isn't it? Giorno would owe him too for all of the shit that's happened. Giorno and Passione both. He'll get into that, sometime.

Instead, he's basically curled up against Avdol, letting him braid his hair. It's soothing for him by now, whether it's Sanguis or him getting horribly fucking trashed.]

I think so.

They're kind of shit to have dinner with, though. Just a heads up. [He slides an arm around Avdol's waist.]

I don't care if they're kind of shit to have dinner with sometimes, or if they don't want their own rooms. It'll be nice having so many people around. I'm an only child, you know; the idea of having so many people makes me happy, to be honest. Naturally, we can dial it back if it doesn't warm the cockles of your heart so much, but I figure we'd probably both be a little unsettled about being alone after everything.

[Yet another session of sacrificing his own knots to tie Abbacchio's braids in place, but it's worth it. Especially right now, if letting his hair loose is helping to siphon away a little of that sadness from before. Boyyyyy does it feel good to actually succeed in being a good partner and not make shit worse! BOY DOES IT EVER.] ...Now you have me curious, though. About why they're shit to have dinner with. Dare I ask, or is that beyond the bounds of what I can handle? As a standard, I have to remind you about the sheer volume of Polnareff's bathroom-related incidents and how often I had to deal with that, so I doubt that they could actually put me off.

I just mean sometimes they deserve each other for the shit they get into.

[He loves them, and if they get a giant place he won't know what to do with it half the time, but even if they manage then... well. He won't mind, would he? He'd be there, happy with Avdol.]

The last memorable lunch we had together, Fugo stabbed Narancia in the face with a fork because he got a math question wrong, Narancia threatened him with one of his stupid knives, and Mista was freaking out over four slices of cake. [Not that he did much to sooth any part of the noise, and probably cranked up his music at the time.]

Oh! That's violent!

...Then again, Narancia looked like he was about ready to gut me if I didn't navigate our first meeting correctly, and I'm guessing that Fugo's temper has something to do with why you wanted to save his story for another time? [And I mean, it's not like Jotaro and Kakyoin weren't down to clown, it's just...Not with each other? Maybe that's an Italian thing though, he doesn't know and honestly? It's none of his business.

Unless they get blood on his floors. Then they'll know true violence. Until then, one more knot comes undone, and Avdol gets to work on another braid.] At any rate, as long as they don't do any serious damage, I can't really complain.

...It's a little silly, isn't it? I'm kind of-- I've gotten far too used to having lots of people around, I think. The thought of being surrounded by friends and having a new family is one that I don't want to let go of.

Sort of. Fugo's a complicated kid. Smart as hell, but-- troubled. Fuck, that doesn't even do it justice. ...Maybe now isn't a bad time to talk about him, actually. [What with the talk of the future.

Hell. That's still weird to consider, but he's trying. Trying to think about what if, what if Avdol does manage it, and they have a home together. Even if it doesn't come true, isn't it nice to consider? For once, not letting himself get dragged down by what was, but what could be?]

Not silly. I mean, they know I kinda like to be left alone, but it'd be weird to not have other people around, too. You get used to them. Kinda like a white noise, in a way. Feels empty otherwise.

Mm? Lay it on me then, if you want. I'm not going anywhere. At least not until I've done your hair completely. ...And I kind of want to know what sort of child goes around wearing holey suits, still. [Ohhhh he hasn't forgotten that, no sir.] We're not having the children visit every day though, moth-eaten suits and cutlery-related violence or not.

[He leans in for a good old-fashioned nuzzlin', mouth quirked a little more sharply than a few seconds ago. Oh, this should be good.] Even if they're just in the house, I won't be able to steal you away for myself in good conscience. What if everyone heard you? They'd never visit again. [There it is, horny on main. At least Avdol's satisfied by that little vent, huffing in amusement as he blithely resumes braiding away.] We'll have to set out a routine for them. They can--

Oh! We won't have to plan around our cycles! That's-- I've almost forgotten what it's like to not turn into an actual jellyfish once a month. Won't that be nice? We'd be masters of our own destiny, able to sleep together whenever we like without having to navigate tendrils or horns!

text | un: fantasma

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