...and he cleans the graves. Stacks rocks. Pulls weeds. Talks to them, even Giorno. He'll always feel guilty he spent the last few days of his life snarling at him.
He saves Bruno for last.
He sinks the ground, his knees protesting. It'll be hell trying to get up again but that's a problem for Future Leone.
"Buccellati," he says, "Bruno. I lied to you last year. I said I wouldn't be able to make the trip again but here I am. Fuck off death, you haven't got me yet."
He sets down the tray of cookies, takes one, rests his head against the gravestone. The summer's hot but the stone's cool.
"I know they're out of season but who the hell cares about season? I don't."
He takes a nibble of the fig cookie and it tastes good because his husband only makes good things.
"Damn, I wish you could taste this. Tonio sends his regards, by the way. I wish you could have met him. You'd love his squid tagliatelle. He makes an apple mascarpone cake and even you would like it, that's how good he is."
"Shit would have gone pretty differently though if you could have met him. We wouldn't be here. And I know that only had two years with you but fuck it, we were great. You were great. And maybe it wouldn't have worked out. Let's face it, darling, I was a fuckhead back then. Pissed at the world, so I took it out on everyone else. Not you. Never you. But let's be honest, I wasn't great to be around sometimes. A lot of the time. You made me better. You were my reason to be better."
"I like to think we would have worked out. And if we had worked out, I wouldn't have him, and isn't that just how it goes, huh? I want the barrel full and myself drunk and you can't have both at the same time. And I hated myself for a long time because I wanted both at the same time. Because I loved him. It felt like a betrayal of both of you. But…he loved someone else too. Loves. And I'm glad they had each other and he's glad we had each other."
Another bite.
"…I don't really want to be drunk. Figure of speech. I've stayed sober fifty years. I just…I love him. I love you. I always will. I'm so thankful for those years I shared with you and I'm so thankful for the years I've had with him, and I feel like the two of you are both better than my sorry ass ever deserved, and if you were here, you'd tell me than I deserve so much more than I give myself credit for. And so would he. You'd like him, Bruno. You'd like Tonio a lot."
And he eats and he feels the tightness in his chest lighten, but he can't rightfully say if it's because Pearl Jam's taking effect or if it's because talking to Bruno always takes the edge off the pain.
"This is some sappy shit, isn't it? I'm old, Bruno. I'm sentimental. Who the hell thought I would ever be this old? Fuck's sake, I have grandchildren. What the hell, when did this all happen?"
His lungs aren't exploding out of his mouth, so it really is just the effect Bruno has on him. Tonio would never intrude on his time with him like that. He should have realized.
"They're running the restaurants now. It was time. I was a private detective for awhile, I've told you about that, and then I worked in the restaurants with him, I've told you about that too, and now we're retired. I thought I'd hate it but I don't. We moved back to Naples recently, so I guess you're going to be seeing a lot more of me. My life is so boring now, Bruno. I wish you had the chance to have a boring life. I bake bread all day and do crosswords and complain about the youth. This fucker's boring."
And then Leone laughs.
"Though I guess I always did the last one. Point is, I'm old. I'm really, really old, Bruno. I wish you had that opportunity. Wish I got to see that. You'd be great at this. You'll always be twenty and I'll always love you no matter what and as long as I'm alive and can still make the trip, I'll visit you. And you're just going to have to deal with an old goth eating cookies on your grave, okay? They're so good."
"I'll leave a few for you. I know that the birds are just going to eat them but fuck it, you made me like buccellati, so you get some."
And Leone Trussardi sits. Remembers. Talks to his first love.
"Did you have a good visit?" Tonio asks later after he returns home. The smell of fresh-cut basil meant for pesto fills the air.
"I did, yeah. It's always good to talk to him," Leone says, a slight hitch in his voice, and his husband takes him into his arms before the tears start falling, kisses them away when they do.
"Leone, tesoro…I understand."
"I know. I love you. It's just…it is what it is. I'm old, Tonio. Old and sentimental. I don't want to leave you."