Wallflower

Abbacchio was at a party that one of his friends from work threw, standing near the kitchen. One of the cops arrested a drug dealer that kept slipping away from them, and to celebrate it, they threw a party. He thought it was going to be a small party amongst co-workers, but the cop invited lots of citizens to join.

Instead of watching soccer on the TV and some snacks at work, it was a party with colorful lights and a DJ in the cop’s large home. It was too much. Some of the citizens who attended have hounded Abbacchio at some point about some minor crime he failed to stop. He had his back to the wall, staying away from the crowd. Then his partner came over to him.

“Leone, why are you standing there?” he asked with a smile. “Come on! Mingle with somebody!”

“I doubt these people like me here,” Abbacchio answered. “I’ll finish the alcohol, so nobody drives home drunk. It’s the least I can do.” He poured some unnamed alcohol into his red cup. There were two juice fountains labeled alcoholic and non-alcoholic.

“That’s a lot of alcohol.” He looked worried. “Who’s going to drive you home?”

“Guess I’ll pass out here.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“Well, I’m not going to get plastered. I just have no idea what to do at a party. The music is alright, but I expected this to be smaller, as in just us cops.”

“You know how Officer Varano is.”

“Right.” Abbacchio continued drinking.

“I’m going to go now. Make sure not to die of alcohol poisoning!”

“I have a high tolerance!” he yelled before his partner disappeared into the crowd.

Abbacchio yawned and tried to find a way to entertain himself. He tapped his foot to the lively beat of the music, and his eyes wandered around, watching the lights beam in people’s faces. Not much was going on, and he was bored.

Eyeing around for something interesting, he noticed a guy wearing an all-white suit dancing around. The dancer was slim, and his black hair was about chin-length. The guy allured Abbacchio, but the cop wasn’t sure if he should approach him. No, he’ll stay and watch. He liked the way he swayed.

The dancer turned around, and he got to see his handsome face and his ocean-blue eyes. Beautiful, Abbacchio thought, gently biting his lips. However, this dancer also made eye contact and started to approach him. Abbacchio stopped biting his lip, looked away, and stared at the pool outside from the window.

“Hey, I’m Bruno, and you are?” he asked.

Oh, no! He’s speaking to me! “Um…” he said nervously, still looking away.

“I saw you staring.” He heard a chuckle. “You look bored. Come dance with me.”

He made eye contact. “I’m Leone Abbacchio, a police officer. I’m also not much of a dancer. I’m more of a drinker.”

“Have you tried dancing while drunk?”

“No, I—whoa!”

Bruno took one of his arms, causing Abbacchio to drop and spill his drink, and dragged him into the crowd. “It’ll be fun!”

Abbacchio tried to retreat, but a crowd surrounded him, and he was afraid to shove them aside in case some of them would remember and berate him.

“Um, what do I do? I never danced before,” Abbacchio told him.

“Move your legs and go with the beat. Try your arms too.”

“What if people see me?”

“They probably won’t. People are either dancing, talking, or drinking. Maybe a combination of those three, but don’t worry about what people think.”

He did as Bruno said and felt silly, but it was better than what he was doing earlier. “This isn’t bad.”

“See?” Bruno danced with him. “So, you’re a cop?”

“Yeah. What are you? A dancer?”

He giggled. “Nope, would you believe me if I told you I was a simple fisherman?”

“What? No way. You’re a pretty good dancer.”

“What was that? You think I’m pretty?”

Abbacchio blushed. “Well, um—uh. What I meant was—”

“I heard what you said.” Bruno giggled and got closer. “I just wanted to hear that. But did you mean that?”

“Yeah.”

Bruno’s stomach growled. “I think I’ve been dancing for a while. I need a snack. You were in the kitchen before. What sounds good?” He grabbed his hand and broke into the crowd.

“There were mini sandwiches, vegetables and dip, and some pretzels.”

“Mini sandwiches sound good. What about the drinks?”

“There’s fruit punch and beer.”

“Fruit punch?” Bruno scoffed. “Is this a party for kids? I’m not much of a drinker, but I guess I’ll have some beer.”

They were now in the kitchen. The pretzels were gone, and half of the mini sandwiches were also. Hardly anyone touched the vegetables.

“Wow, nobody wanted to eat their vegetables. I think I’ll take one sandwich and some vegetables,” Bruno said.

“I was hoping there would be a few pretzels left.” Abbacchio grabbed two cups and poured some beer. “Ha! There’s still beer left!”

“You sure you don’t want any sandwiches?”

“I’ll be fine. Plus, I have a high tolerance for alcohol.”

“Do you?” Bruno doubted.

“Yeah, watch.”

Abbacchio downed at least two drinks.

“You look a little tipsy,” Bruno commented.

“I’m fine.” Abbacchio wobbled a bit.

“How many times did you refill before this?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“You should probably stop.”

Abbacchio’s vision blurred a bit, but he smiled dumbly at him. Then somebody bumped into the cop, causing him to lose his balance and fall onto Bruno. Bruno caught him.

“Are you alright?”

Abbacchio didn’t say anything but closed his eyes and leaned in for a kiss.

He kissed him briefly, and once the cop opened his eyes, they made eye contact.

“I think I love you,” Abbacchio said.

“I love you too.” Bruno kissed him again. “Hey, I have to go. I told you I was a simple fisherman, but I’m studying to become something more. I’d like to see you again. Don’t you forget my name!”

“Wait!” Abbacchio grabbed his arm before he could leave. “What’s your last name?”

“Bucciarati.”

“Bucciarati, don’t forget my name either.”

After he left, Abbacchio felt drained and passed out. When he woke up, it was morning, and his partner stood beside him, arms crossed.

“Didn’t I tell you not to get plastered?” said his partner. He helped Abbacchio get up.

“Ugh, yeah. There was this guy—wait, did you stay here?”

“Varano wanted me to stay and watch over you.”