A/N: I don't really expect this story to get any reviews or favorites due to how small the Mafia fanfic community is-I'm more or less just writing it for myself-but if you did leave a review or favorite, it would mean a lot since this game doesn't have too many stories written about it. Criticism is welcome, I'm actually looking for a Beta! Shoot me a PM if your interested!
I have a good idea of how long this story is going to be, however since Mafia II's timeline is so precise and narrow-with the exclusion of Vito's prison sentence that lasts almost 6 years-Mafia II's events could take place within less than a year. (If my math is correct.) This means several things-I don't hope to, but I might have to abandon the canon timeline. The option that I will most likely pursue, however, is making every chapter I write, detailed and longer than what I would usually write.
I've written stories for this site before, but never have I written a chapter this long, so it's a bit of a monument for me.
This story is Henry x Vito. I already know that the insinuation that Vito, or Henry might be bisexual is very poorly received-although I have actually have had approval by other players that this theory is very well plausible-at least for Vito-the argument that Henry might be bisexual is a lot harder to prove...
Because of the acclaim that my theory received-including the hate-I decided to write a story detailing a relationship between Henry and Vito. If you have any criticism for the story simply because you are not fond of the idea of Vito or Henry being bisexual, I suggest that you read another story instead-this particular story is most likely not for you.
If you are interested in the theory, and evidence I gathered trying to prove that Vito is possibly bisexual, let me know! I'll post it in the description of a chapter on here! I'm welcome to criticism on it-it either helps me find new evidence for it, or to reinforce the evidence I already have.
I'm writing this story for fun, so please don't feel as if I'm trying to say that my theory is canon-my theory is a theory-and nothing less. It's just a way for me to take another, different perspective on my favorite video game characters in an effort to develop and explore their personalities and characters.
I try to write them as themselves as much as I can, but I always feel as if I make them OOC-if you have any suggestions or tips on how I might make them seem more as themselves, let me know!
In this particular chapter, Vito parks his car in the middle of the street-this is an allusion and a bit of a joke on my part-whenever I go somewhere for a mission, I usually just leave my car wherever I want-usually in the middle of the street. Vito parking his car there in this chapter is a joke.
AND PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OF MAFIA III-I haven't been able to discuss the game with anyone-other than in YouTube comments-and I've been dying to point out the flaws the game has- LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING ME-YOU CAN'T EVEN CLOSE DOORS ONCE YOU OPEN THEM!
YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE YOUR OWN REFLECTION IN MIRRORS-
OR DIE IF YOU CRASH INTO SOMETHING REALLY HARD-
The game is a mess...
Without further do, however, please enjoy the story, and feel free to leave suggestions!
I: Brandy & Lassiter
To Vito, everything is blurry. Faces, voices, and memories. He's not sure why he's at the Maltese Falcon, or why there's a glass of brandy in his hand.
Vito has everything. Everything he ever wanted. Money, respect, booze, women, freedom-
So why wasn't he happy? Why did it feel as if every time he acquired something he had so desperately longed for-a piece of his soul was given up in the process? He felt as empty as the glass in his hand-just as cold too.
The only people left in the bar this late at night were Eddie, the bartender, and Vito. The silence was unbearable, and with each passing second, his heart painfully ached. It hurt, but Vito couldn't recall exactly why. Maybe it was due to all the bloodshed he had seen in the past ten years, or maybe it was the strangely comforting solitude he kept as close to him as the gun under his shirt. Whatever the reason, Vito cursed it. Cursed it for the lovely solitude it brought him, the delicious euphoria he relished in every time he took a sip of his brandy, and the hole in his chest that kept growing as he sat there alone.
As Vito ordered another drink, it came back to him.
Frankie. Frankie-
She didn't love him anymore. She hadn't loved him for a while. He should have guessed-no longer was the warmth in her eyes whenever she saw him present, or the radiant smile she wore just for him whenever he was around on her face.
He just couldn't understand it. Frankie, his own flesh and blood, came to him with a problem. He did as he was supposed to do for his sister-he fixed the problem.
Why? Why did Frankie hate him? Vito gave her and their mother everything-money, protection, another chance at life after he had single handedly paid off his father's debt, how could she just cut off her ties with him? How could Frankie choose some fuck, who beat her, who drank, who cheated on her with other women- over Vito? Over him, she had chosen her poor excuse of a husband-he had given her everything.
Everything.
Vito once thought that family was the most important thing-that family ties were stronger than anything.
He was proven wrong earlier that night when she yelled at him to leave her and her worthless husband alone.
Vito loved Frankie.
Frankie didn't love Vito.
No one really did, except maybe Joe, but Joe would never say those words aloud. Then again, Vito surmised early on that he didn't need to. Joe saved his life more times than he cared to count-he had gotten him discharged from the army, given him a new lifeā¦
Other than Joe-who else loved him? Who, other than the man that he had known for his entire life?
Certainly no woman ever loved him. Women might love his good looks, his charm-this Vito knows, but they never loved him. He accounted it to his line of work-the very same line of work that had already stripped him away of many things that he had once deemed important to him.
Vito was slowly coming to the realization that while being a mafioso gave him money, respect, and women-it also gave him fear, guilt, and sorrow-
Vito took another sip of his drink in an effort to dull his thoughts.
It didn't work. He laughed.
Vito, too immersed in his own thoughts and drowned in liquor, didn't hear the sound of the door to the bar opening-much less the approaching footsteps that got louder as they came his way.
"Mio dio, Vito."
Vito blearily looked towards the source of the voice. He had to blink a couple times and concentrate to make sure, but the man standing disappointedly in front of him was Henry.
"Why are you here?" Vito didn't mean to ask the question so aggressively, but the alcohol had a stronger effect on his speech than he thought.
"I just finished a job for Eddie-I was about to collect my fucking money before I saw your drunk ass basically passed out on the bar counter."
"I'm not drunk."
"You look like shit Vito. You reek of booze-hell-you didn't even park your car correctly. It's in the middle of the fucking street!"
"You don't look so good either." Vito brought his glass to his lips again to take a drink, but Henry snatched the glass out of his hands, and gave it the bartender.
"Look Vito-I don't know what happened to you. I don't even know what made you drink like this- truth be told, I don't want to. I need to see Eddie. When I come back, I expect you's to be having a coffee, and to be looking a little bit more presentable, so I can drive you home. Understand?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sure thing, Henry."
"Good." Henry gave the younger man a stern look before leaving him to talk to Eddie.
"Wise ass." Vito muttered under his breath, "I'll have a coffee please." The bartender simply nodded and poured the steaming drink into a cup before gently setting it before the other man.
"Thanks." It did little to improve his physical condition, but he did feel a bit better.
It wasn't like Henry hadn't seen Vito intoxicated before-he had taken drinks at the cathouse with him and Joe a while back, but this time Henry knew that it was different-Vito, was for whatever reason, plastered. Henry knew that Vito never got drunk enough to lose his inhibitions or dignity like Joe or Eddie did, so why was he drunk now?
Henry tried not to ponder on it for too long-it was Vito's business. If Vito wanted him to know, Vito would tell him.
He approached the booth where Eddie sat, quickly trying to rid his mind of the drunken man currently shitfaced a floor below him.
"Henry! Good to see ya!" Eddie quickly stood up from the booth he was sitted in as soon as he saw the mafioso.
"Eddie." Henry nodded, and gave him firm handshake before sitting down.
"Wanna drink?" he offered.
"No thanks-I plan on driving away from here in one piece," Henry joked.
Eddie laughed a little too hard before wheezing out a reply, "You're one funny guy-you know that Henry?"
"I try."
"Really? I couldn't tell!" He remarked as he sipped at his glass of brandy.
Henry shifted a bit impatiently in his seat, Vito was still down at the bar wasted. "Listen, Eddie, about that job you asked me to do-"
Eddie snorted, "I take back what I said-you are no fun-"
"I don't mean to sound like a right asshole-but I have somewhere I need to be."
Eddie groaned, and reached into his coat to throw a stack of cash on the table. "Your really no fun Henry-I mean what's more important than hanging out with me-drinking?"
Henry cleared his throat, and stuffed the wad of bills in his pocket. "Does it really matter?"
Eddie leaned back into the leather booth, and sized Henry up. He could see that Henry wasn't exactly his calm and collected self. He nursed his brandy. "It's a broad, isn't it?" Eddie grinned, "What'd you tell her? That'd you fuck her after you were done here? Madonna Henry- you're just as bad as Joe," he chuckled.
Henry didn't usually find himself feeling embarrassed because he never really found himself in many embarrassing situations. Right now, however-was an embarrassing situation.
"It's nothing like that-" he tried desperately to reason.
"Haaha! My man! Go, go!" Eddie gestured enthusiastically for him to leave.
"That's not what's happening-"
"Just get out of here, ya dog!" Eddie jokingly tried to push him out of booth.
Henry didn't see the point in further arguing with Eddie any longer, so he bid the underboss a rather uncomfortable farwell.
"Take care Eddie."
"Make sure you wear protection! You don't wanna get the clap! Trust me!" Eddie shouted.
Henry thanked God that the Maltese Falcon was empty of it's usual patrons.
Henry figured that not much time had passed talking to Eddie, he estimated that he took 6 minutes at the most. He hadn't taken a long amount of time-however, 6 minutes was enough time for Vito. As he walked down the steps of the restaurant, he saw that the other man was passed out on the bar counter.
'Perfetto, just what I need.'
"Oi Vito! Andiamo!" Henry came down the stairs, and tried to shake to man awake.
Vito tried to swat Henry away, but he was too out of it to really do any damage.
"Come on!" Henry gave him one last shake before walking out the door.
Vito blankly sat on the bar stool for a few more seconds before gathering his resolve and downing the last few sips of his coffee.
"Godammit Henry."
Vito swung the door open violently, and blindly stumbled out the restaurant. Squinting, he tried to find his car in the dark-
'Hey, Henry was right-I did leave my car parked in the middle of the street.'
The car was running, and upon closer inspection Vito could see that Henry was in the driver's seat. He walked to the Lassiter Hollywood and slid next to Henry in the front seat.
"Vito," Henry handed a white piece of paper to the other man, "You got a parking ticket."
"Dammit!" Vito cursed, and shoved the slip in his coat pocket.
The car ride was long and awkward. Henry was worried that Vito's alcohol consumption was going to make a reappearance, and Vito was worried that Henry might ask about what led him to his drinking.
For better or for worse, neither happened.
Vito stared out the window, the bright neon signs of Empire Bay casting light upon his handsome features. The lights slightly blinded him if he stared at them for too long, but he didn't mind-it was beautiful.
Vito started to wonder if Henry thought the city was beautiful too.
"Henry," Vito turned his head away from the dazzling displays of the city to look at the brooding man next to him, "What do you think of this city?"
He shrugged. "It does the job."
A familiar silence ensued until Henry decided to speak up again, "This is a nice car-where'd you get it?"
"I stole it."
They remained silent for the rest of the drive.
