Leone Abbacchio was born in Calabria to a loving family, a father and mother who were blessed to have him, and treated him like he was their world in their small house in the countryside.

He was a curious child, born with pale skin and even paler blue eyes, yet sporting Calabrese features that were unmistakable. They learned he was albino, and while they were worried, they loved him more than themselves.

Leone grew up healthy and strong, asking questions as often as he could and learning as much as possible. He knew much better than to ask about anything involving religion, however. Something deep inside of him told him that those ideas were ones that should never be questioned.

He would find small lizards running around outside, and bring them in, much to his mother's chagrin. He was a child, and a happy one. His parents gave birth to a healthy baby girl when he was five and named her Pace. She was his best friend. She was gorgeous, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, she was never without a smile on her face and a skip in her step.

They were never one without the other, Leone and Pace. He would hold her hand, show her the little lizards that skittered around in the grass, even if he was nine years old and he shouldn't be friends with his four year old little sister, he loved her more than anything. He showed her the bugs that they would find under rocks and she'd laugh, say that it's disgusting, and then they would run back inside the house for lunch.

There were kids who would mock the two of them, and Leone was quick to stand up to them. And get called a freak. A strange thing that couldn't stay out in the sun for too long. Leone burned easy. He had to wear a sunhat to keep from burning. His little sister would get mad, but Leone would be the one to respond. He had to be the man in the situation, he learned, and stand up for others who could not stand up for themselves.

From a young age, Leone Abbacchio was focused on justice. Bringing down the people who deserved to be brought down from their pegs and making them realize they were wrong. It wasn't anything having to do with any sort of ego, far from it, it was his want to see others stop hurting each other.

He would be sent to the nurse's office at school from time to time, with an exasperated older woman shaking her head at him every time he'd walked in. Stumbled in.

"What did you do this time, Leone?"

The answer was always the same.

She doesn't know why she kept asking, after a while.

His mother would worry about him, and his father would laugh. There was nothing wrong with boys his age fighting. After all, what else would they do?

Pace loved having her hair braided. Leone learned clumsily how to braid his sister's hair, having to undo it and redo it a few times before Pace was satisfied. He got better every time, though. At least there was that. It meant that their conversations would get shorter, as a result.

"Leone, promise me you'll grow your hair out so I can braid it!"

The answer was always the same.

He'd remember it every time his mother would trim his hair.

--

Being a teenager in Calabria was odd, let alone being a teenager who focused on their schooling more than anything else. Leone was determined to join the police force, a dream he'd had for years that he would make a reality. It wasn't an absurd dream, wanting to pursue justice as he had been doing his entire life, but it was difficult. School often was, but he studied hard, and had little time with his family as a result. Sundays were the exception.

"Oi, Leone! How long are you going to have your face stuffed into your notes for, huh?"

Glancing up from the aforementioned notes, he's broken out of his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"You heard me! We're gunna go see if we can't get some of the chicks in town to hang out with us for a bit. Y'know."

Leone blinks. Shakes his head.

"I think I'll pass."

A boy who was behind the other who was talking laughs, and slaps the first one on the back. Tells him he said he wouldn't join him, and off the two of them went, chittering away.

There had been times where he'd been approached by girls, laughing and batting their eyelashes at him. He'd never taken on a girlfriend, surprisingly. He'd never had sex. They assumed he was gay. Why else would a man not want to be with a beautiful woman, anyway?

Leone passed with flying colours, getting into the program he wanted to and making himself the pride and joy of his family. He went through the academy without much issue and was on the force as soon as he was able to be. Some might call him a prodigy, eighteen years old and already willing to throw his life away in order to protect the land he grew up in and loved.

Eighteen years old and ready to watch his entire life fall to pieces all around him.

He'd been introduced to his partner soon after joining the force, Vitello Marrone. He was his age, and they were both convinced that they ended up together because of their names, and nothing else.

Lamb and calf, pure animals whose meat was the finest of them all.

--

"Hey, Leone."

Leone was in the middle of putting on his lipstick when he hears Vitello's voice. It was a habit he'd picked up. Lipstick only, though. None of that other makeup. It was a part of his routine, and it looked nice. A win all around. He glances at his partner, who smiles at him.

"You hear about what happened with Matteo?"

Leone finishes applying his lipstick, and sighs softly as he moves back from the mirror.

"Yeah. Sucks, huh?" He finally replies, turning to face the other.

"I'd heard that he was taking bribes, but I never really thought that the rumours were true, y'know?" Vitello sighs, shrugs. "You think you know a guy, huh."

"Yeah."

They'd only been working for a few months, and Leone knew how deep the corruption ran in this melting pot of looking the other way and acting as if nothing happened. Every time he'd brought someone to justice, they'd just be free within a day or two. Sometimes, within the hour. It got tiring. He didn't know what to say.

He'd gotten his own apartment, resorting to sending letters to his family as a way of communicating, unless he drove all the way out. He'd still go to family gatherings, of course. He'd been there for Pace's thirteenth birthday. He'd stepped out onto the balcony, staring off into the distance when his uncle came to him, slapping him on the back and laughing loudly.

It startled him, but he didn't have the energy to panic.

"Leone, you see the girls down there?" His uncle told him, gesturing to the girls walking in the street, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. "Pick one, and I'll get her to marry you."

Leone blinked, staring at the other, then back to the women. Somehow, they weren't entirely appealing. He laughed, a bit of an awkward laugh.

"I don't think I have the time to have a wife." He finally answered, almost exasperated.

His uncle laughed. Said he was doing a great job if he had no time, he could get married later, and walked back inside.

There were times where Leone found himself staring at Vitello, watching the way his lips moved when he spoke, the way he'd emote when he spoke. There were times where Leone would find himself feeling something that he knew he wasn't allowed to feel. Not for Vitello. Something he should only feel for a woman.

He'd come close to telling him a few times. He'd come so close to just telling Vitello about how he'd want to kiss him, how he'd want to hug him, hold his hand and see where they would go from there, see just where the night that they would never be able to spend together would go, but he never could. Leone would think about that at night, ashamed of himself for thinking about him while he touched himself awkwardly, fumbling like a horny teenager who didn't know any better.

Every time they spoke, it would just get worse.

--

A person can only be surrounded by corruption and dishonesty for so long before their dreams and visions become clouded before their very eyes, and they too turn to embrace it.

Leone Abbacchio was but a lamb who got seperated from his flock, like many others of his kind.

A young woman was out on the streets, and it was horribly obvious what she was up to. What her, and the man with her, were up to. Leone knew what was going on, yet, somehow... well. The temptation to let the city resolve its own issues grew within him, and he took the one thing he'd sworn he wouldn't do. He broke a rule that he'd sworn he would never break.

He took the money offered to him, and turned the other way.

Leone Abbacchio went back to his apartment that night, and stared at the euros in his hand. Stared at them, and somehow, this... was to be expected of him. All he did was protect the people, protect the people who fought back against him, and locked up people who would buy their way out. He was lining his pockets with the money that would have been used to bail that bastard out anyways--

How the fuck could he justify this to himself.

Without speaking a word, he looked out the window, staring at the streets below, and went into his room to sleep.

Leone Abbacchio did not sleep that night. He stared at his ceiling the entire night, barely breathing, and barely feeling.

What had he done.

He'd gone to work the next day, and acted as if nothing had happened. Went on patrol with Vitello, but something was missing. Leone had no idea.

Vitello asked him something. He hadn't heard him.

"Leone, are you alright?"

Leone blinks, looking over at Vitello like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I. Yeah, sorry. I got caught up in thinking."

"About what?"

About how much I fucked up, about how I'll never be able to tell you how much I love you, about how much you mean to me and how we'll never be able to truly say anything about it, about how I've been masturbating while thinking about you and how wonderful you are and how I want to take you back to my apartment and love you and how I wish you would say it first so I wouldn't just keep running around in circles like a fucking pathetic child.

"My family. I haven't sent them a letter in a little while."

That night, he stared at the money on his bedside table for a few moments, before changing out of his work clothes and into something casual. Fuck it. He had a horrible night yesterday, he deserves some fucking time to himself. Leone grabs the euros, stuffing them into his jean pocket, and wakes up the next morning with a throbbing headache and a woman in bed next to him.
--
"How did you end up here."

Leone's voice is raspy, panicked almost. The woman yawns, turning and blinking as she looks at him... What was his problem? It was like the guy had never seen or had a woman naked in his bed before. Jeez. She rolls her eyes.

"I'm here because you brought me here."

Leone blinks a couple of times, glances around. Looks back at her.

"You... I. I'm sorry, I meant why are you..."

"Naked and in your bed?"

"Yeah."

"Because we were at the same bar, you got some drinks for yourself, and I went up to you acting really flirty, and then we ended up here."

"Did... we..?"

The woman blinks at him. Gives him a confused look.

"No shit we had sex, I wouldn't be laying naked in your bed with lipstick marks all over my damn chest otherwise."

Leone doesn't reply, a frozen fear knotting his stomach. He wants to cry. He doesn't know what to do. Does he even know her name? Does she know his? He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.

What has he fucking done?

"Sorry, that was a bit harsh." She adds, glancing at her nails and huffing at the chipped paint that she finds before looking back at Leone. "I can leave, if you'd like."

He barely realizes that she was speaking.

"I, uh."

"I won't be offended, really." She glances at the clock on the bedside table, and her eyes widen. Oh, shit. She looks back at Leone, and laughs. "Actually, I kind of have to go anyways! This was nice."

Practically jumping out of the bed, she goes to put on her clothes that were discared in a sloppy, drunken haze all over the floor the night before. Leone doesn't know what to do. The woman gets ready, and practically rushes out the front door, leaving Leone dumbstruck and all alone in his bed.

He doesn't move for another hour.
--
"Hey, Leone!"

He looks up with a start, staring at Vitello, who has a concerned look on his face.

"You alright? You've been acting a bit off these past few days."

No. I think I'm drowning.

Leone laughs softly, rubbing his face with his hand. "Yeah. Just tired."

Vitello offers him a smile, and his cup of coffee.

"You need this more than I do, then."

Leone takes a moment, staring from the cardboard cup, to Vitello, and back at the cup. Smiles as he reaches for it and takes it out of the other's hand. Their fingers touch for an instant. Leone feels his heart ache.

"Thank you, Vitello." He murmurs, before going to take a sip. Vitello drank from this. His lips were on this. Your lips are on this. You're drinking what he was just drinking. It's too sweet, and he can clearly taste the cream in it.

It's the best shitty little cup of coffee that Leone's ever had in his life.

"We're on patrol today."

Leone finishes his sip, moving the cup away from his mouth. His lipstick stains the rim.

"This is the second day in a row, though."

"I know, it's weird, but I'm just the messenger." Vitello laughs, patting Leone on the back before turning and leaving.

It's a small gesture. It's so small, and Vitello is likely to forget about it in a few minutes, but Leone wouldn't. The coffee and the pat on his back and he doesn't know what to do. He's head over heels and it's killing him.

Patrol was the same as it always was. Mostly uneventful, save for a pickpocket trying to pick his own pocket. It was a strange thing, but not entirely unexpected.

"Hey, Leone." Vitello starts, putting away parts of his uniform into his locker. "A new place opened up not too far from here, do you want to go and grab something to eat?"

"Yes."

His answer leaves him before he's even able to finish thinking about the request. Leone pauses. Vitello laughs.

It's not a date. Not technically, Leone doesn't think. This wasn't a date, no, it was just a friendly dinner together as friends. There was nothing romantic about this and Leone would be a fool to think of it that way. The food is nice, and the wine is, too. They talk about work, and laugh.

They go their seperate ways afterwards, and Leone goes back to his apartment and feels like death.

He thinks about Vitello that night, when doesn't he, and regrets not being able to tell him what he so desperately wants to say.

--
A call comes in.

It had been a couple of weeks since he and Vitello had gone out to eat together. It was a strict friendship that they had, nothing more, Leone insisted to himself.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the way he did. There wasn't any fathomable way to throw those thoughts away, he couldn't just do that. No matter how hard he tried, he just. Couldn't. So, they spoke. Laughed.

A call comes in.

Vitello tells him quickly that there's a robbery happening, and in an instant they were in the car, driving as fast as they could to the scene.

It wasn't as if their friendship was turned strange, not at all. They worked well together.

He's told hastily to take the back. Leone runs.

A familiar face greets him as he shouts at him that he was under arrest. He feels his heart skip a beat.

"H...hey... you again?" He starts, this fucking rat starts, nervously speaking as he stares at the man he'd given a bribe to not even a month ago. "I... I guess kinda screwed this one up, huh...?"

Leone narrows his eyes, his gun pointed at the fucking scum of the Earth before him.

"Hey, hey, can we just pretend you didn't see anything? Just let me off... doing me in won't do you any good, either!"

The panicked bargaining of a cornered animal. Leone practically snarls.

"No, not happening. You're under arrest."

"Hey, think about it. If you arrest me, they'll find out you took a bribe from me."

The realization hits Leone like a fucking train. His eyes widen.

"Can you put down your gun? You're freaking me out, man."

Leone says nothing. He stands still, and doesn't hear the sound of the bastard reaching for his gun. Doesn't hear the running steps towards him and doesn't hear the--

"What are you doing?! He's got a gun!"

Two shots ring out.

Leone feels something pierce through him.

The world stops.

Leone's back is against the wall in an instant.

Everything happens in slow motion, he doesn't know what's going on, he doesn't understand anything happening around him, he doesn't understand what just happened.

All he hears is his heartbeat, pounding in his ears, and nothing else.

He breathes in. And breathes out.

He does not hear the pained gasps of the man who just shot his partner.

He does not feel the pain in his side from where the bullet tore through him.

Leone Abbacchio does not feel anything. Leone Abbacchio does not hear anything.

Leone Abbacchio ruined everything.
--
Leone Abbacchio was charged with corruption, and other things he doesn't want to remember.

He does not leave his apartment for days on end, sitting in his room and digging his nails into his head. Staining his white hair with blood. He barely eats. He barely drinks. He does not do anything.

Leone Abbacchio does not know what to do.

Leone Abbacchio does not know how to live.

Leone Abbacchio is drowning in a sea of regrets and anguish, and he has stopped fighting back.

Something keeps appearing in the corner of his room. Something that keeps forcing him to watch the same thing, over and over and over again.

Vitello's final moments, taking a bullet and falling to the ground, are being replayed. Over. And over. And over. And over.

He doesn't know how to make it stop. He doesn't want to keep seeing this. This mistake that he made. This horrible thing that he was the cause of. Yet it continues. Over. And over. And over.

He couldn't stay here. He could not stay here because there was a chance that his family would find him. He can't deal with that. He cannot deal with the anxiety that courses through him when he realizes how much shame and disappointment he's brought to his family. Fucking failure, horrible man, the worst son on this planet.

Something hits the ground.

He realizes he can't see Pace anymore. He can't see his mother anymore. He can't see his father anymore. He can't see any of his family anymore because he is such a fucking mistake and blemish on this world that he should be dead. There's no reason for him to live. Why was he alive? Why didn't he die?

What a fucking mess. What a fucking mistake.

Vitello Marrone hits the ground for the fiftieth time.

Leone Abbacchio stares at him, and feels nothing.

Leone Abbacchio is nothing.
--
He's in his car, driving faster than he's ever driven before.

Abbacchio is driving as fast as he's able to, his head throbbing with pain and the same vision playing over and over in the back of his mind as he shoots down an old road. Part of him tells him to swerve into a tree. Another part of him urges him to crash into any cars that are going the other way. A large part of him tells him to let go of the wheel, to let fate decide what it wants to do with him.

He ignores all of it.

The next thing he knows, the sun is creeping past the landscape. He only started driving at three in the morning, what time was it now? He doesn't know. He doesn't think he even cares, anymore.

Abbacchio had run away from his life in Calabria to live in Napoli. At least, now, he could make some semblance at a new life.

Or end up dying in the streets like the shameful dog he was.

He still had some money, he was a very apt saver, and took all of the money he'd made, and all of the money he'd kept outside of the bank with him when he left. He doesn't even remember if his family called him.

No, says the voice in the back of his head, halting the thought of Vitello's death. They did call. You didn't answer. You ran away. You abandoned your family. You abandoned the people who loved you and appreciated you and for what. Because you fucked up your dream and are now going to suffer for it.

Vitello's body hits the ground.

Abbacchio's foot hits the gas.
--
It was hard to say what would kill him first.

The alcohol, the drugs, the self inflicted wounds, or the obscene amount of sex he was having.

As far as Abbacchio could tell, he wasn't able to feel anything anymore. He had no reason to live, and could not feel anything. He'd found a place to live, did favours in an effort to pay as little rent as possible. He wasn't living. If anything, Leone Abbacchio was one of the walking dead.