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why can't you want me like the other boys do?


his hair is like a blanket of lavender, falling onto his shoulders in delicate tufts, framing his solemn face with utter elegance. his skin is slick with sweat, his chest rising and falling almost as if the music was his lifeline. 

his hands grip the pole with determination, but his concentration was anywhere but.


they stare at me while I stare at you


his eyes scan the audience diligently, pleadingly, until they settle on him. bruno bucciarati, capo to a newly forming group of passione . his face looked soft, kind, but abbacchio knew it was probably a cover-up. ultimately, bruno was no better than the man who sat next to him, the owner of the “ club” ; just another underling in the countless ranks of the gang.


  why can't I keep you safe as my own?


try as he might, he can’t find himself able to shake the man out of his thoughts. bright blue eyes, soft pink lips, well maintained tufts of dark hair that haunts his dreams with its soft appearance. anytime he sees bruno lingering around the club, he finds himself captivated. he goes ‘home’ to sleep, but finds no true rest.


one moment I have you, the next you are gone


what he does find is that the feeling seems to not be mutual. of the countless times he’s seen bucciarati, he recalls only a couple where he found himself under that piercing blue gaze. there’s been glances, sure, but only fleeting. only once he watched him with true attentiveness, plush lips raised in a small smile the entirety of his routine. abbacchio made sure his movements were flawless for him. 


rehearsed steps on an empty stage, that boy's got my heart in a silver cage 


sometimes abbacchio finds himself growing tired of performing. he hasn’t a choice, his life is not his own to control anymore, and will never be his own once again, but he still falters at times. but if bruno is present, regardless of where his attention is, he gives it his all. usually by the time he’s gone, abbacchio is completely breathless, and can’t help but collapse when he’s backstage, even before he redresses himself. it’s worth it, though.


why can't you want me like the other boys do?


he craves him. he craves the soft gaze he holds, the press of his hands against him- his cravings know no boundaries. it confuses him sometimes, leaves him an emotional mess even more- but these feelings never seem to waver. 


they stare at me while I crave you