You know how ya occasionally find ya'self contemplating for a decent 'mount o' time how the things in life that really suck outweigh the things that don't pretty easily like it's a featha'? On and off, I'm convincin' myself that, uhh –love- really sucks. I mean, it is? Yeah, it is! It's like a, uh, whatcha call it, a $500 vacuum cleaner yer old lady recently bought, it's so new and all and sucks the everloving dust and crap outta yer floor, right? Especially when it's brand new? Well that's how I think love is sometimes, I ain't nothin' but a cinder on the floor, and love is jus', suckin' me in and there ain't no way to run. What I'm tryna say here is how I first found myself to be in love with that mook Henry, - he's actually far from a mook, but he can't get into my mind and see everythin', right? So I can call everyone whateva I like. Anyway, here's how the story went…
I was walking alone, hungry and frail in the dark, bleak night of the eva-so-wonderful city of Empire Bay. The streets were almost quiet, heck, TOO quiet for lil' ol' me, I was about 13 or somethin' but whateva. Every step I took, I could see my tiny shadow disappear before me every sec or two, in my poo' neighborhood, nothin' was exactly pleasin' ta look at, ya'know? All I'm sayin' here –ya idiots- is that my fav streetlamp I used ta stand next to every 6PM is flickerin'.
I was so lonely I actually found the goddamn relationship between me and a fuckin' streetlamp ta be so rivetin'. "I wanna be a mechanic when I grow up." is what I used ta say. Wanted to be a mechanic to fuckin' fix that damn light 'cauz no one else will! Even if they did, it'll be a while before they do! Motherfuckin' assholes, every motherfuckin' time.
By the next day, I shared my wishes to my Ma. Told her I wanted to work a ridiculously embarrasin' job with grin crossin' my pale, yet proud face. Ma, of course, nodded back in hope, placin' her soft, slightly brown hand on my shoulder with encouragement. She wanted me to be anythin' as long as we'll get income and as long as I don't lock myself up at home and do nothin' but drink and render my existence useless. She, may God bless her, told me how I could become a mechanic as quick as a fly and early as a bird, "Go hit up the library across the Maltese Falcon, cara." She said as she fixed the buttons on my beige-colored sweatuh. With a tremendous excitement and the pleasin' thought of fixin' my ever-so-dear streetlamp as fast as possible, I headed straight outside at an early mornin', the streets were bustlin' with people, like they suddenly came outta nowhere after yesterday's lonely night - cars were like a melody; with loud horns, the screechin' of wheels and the sound of the engines movin', Empire bay was like an illustrated novel; everyone's playin' their parts, places are set, adventure is a go, and then there's the main charactuh (Hint: Me.) tryin' to follow his dreams. So, I crossed the street, walked past by so many people that made me feel so fragile, tiny and unnoticeable like an ant, compared ta them; they were all gigantic.
I found the library after a while, Kelly's, it was called, big fuckin' library, and the thought of decent amount of How-To-Be books were flowin' in my head, oh boy, that was so excitin'. I entered the library and it was like a whole new world, aesthetic, tidy and quiet. Common traits of big libraries, but I was a kid who, in all his 13yrs of breathin', set his little foot inside for the first time evah. I looked around the departments for a short time but to no avail, I had to ask somebody for help. There was a guy up front, lean, attractive and tall. Boy, was he tall.
"Hey, sir. Can I ask ya to help me find some books?"
He didn't bother answerin', let alone look at me.
"Okay," I said, followed by a "Fuck you, sir." And did I get an unpleasant frown, his big hands clenched as he solely crouched down to equal my height, "Hey, kid. Yer parents nevuh told ya ta treat people with respect, am I right?" his frown slowly turned into a smile, now I thought he was bein' a pussy. He can't harm me 'cauz I'm a kid. He tries to touch me and he'll be in serious trouble!
"They did," I smiled back, "but yer a big fuckin' dick for—"
I couldn't feel my face. Also, I was sobbin' on the damn ground.
A decade later, me and Mr. Guy-who-broke-my-face-in-the-library-embarrasing-me-around-everybody-and-scarring-me-for-life, were best friends. After Vito unfortunately got locked up, Henry asked me to be his drinkin' buddy. He knew it was a bad idea, I was really loud and I tend ta fuck everythin' up. See, I'm the kinda moron who turns a quiet room a karoke whenever I get the chance, which, I always do. Anyways, me an' the mook, were walkin' along in a frisky evenin'. He tried not to be a bore, so he talked, joked around, and said whatevuh that wasn't work. work. work.
"Ya know what else they call an asshole?"
Henry was…really bad at jokes.
4-bad-jokes later, we finally hit up the nearest bar, ordered ourselves some beer, drank it up, then ordered some more. The more sips we took, the more I talked, the less Henry could. I put my arm around his shoulder and told him to "Cheer the fuck up" and "Have fun". Dear ol' Henry wasn't exactly the expressive type. He's an aloof. Also hot. Really hot.
We got a little drunk, I laughed really loud, Henry did the same. Then we opened up a little, "Y'know, Henry. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Vito." I took a breath after laughin', then Henry rose a brow, "Ain't it the other way around? Seein' how –you- pulled Vitew inta all this shit?" I began to chuckle, he tilted his head in confusion, "You said 'Vitew'" I hit his back feebly before wiping my teary eyes. "Ah, whatevah." Henry rolled his eyes and sunk his head between his hand on the table. His glass was ~half~ empty, therefo', I poured it onto his pretty head.
Last thing I heard was the bartender shouting "Oh my god".
It was 10AM, I'm in my untidy bed, scruffy as heck. I would've still been asleep if it weren't for my meddling phone, I remember shaking my fist in the air, growling infuriatingly?
"How many ways do ya wanna be cut inta pieces?"
"Good mornin' to you too, Joey."
"Henry? What, uhh, stop callin' me that."
I stood up clumsily and placed my hand on the wall to balance myself. I didn't know what Henry wanted, but I had this feelin' inside that I was really happy to talk to him first thing in the mornin'. It was breathtaking to hear someone so special talk to ya. I'm too weak to keep my cool, I was really excited, it was really dumb, he even realized that but as cool as he is, he was cool with it. To lower the tension, I opened my fat mouth,
"Ya called ta apologize for kickin' my ass yesterday, huh?"
"Nah. You deserved that."
"Didja sleep well?"
"I'm feelin' really tired. I don't know."
"You had a hungover."
"I had my ass kicked."
For some odd reason, his voice soothed me. I can't tell I've evah felt somethin' close like this with someone else? He was a guy. I'M a guy. What happens if a guy likes another guy? Why am I worried? It ain't like me, Joe Barbaro, to be worried and overthinkin'? Is this the after-effects of bein' drunk? Why am I askin' myself? Where do all these questions come from? Seriously? I can't stop? Help? Everythin's becomin' a question all of a sudden?
Kudos to Henry for freein' me from all these weird thoughts, god-fucking-dammit.
I said his name. I coulda jus' said "Yeah". I really like his name or somethin'. I heard nothin' from the other end o' the line, "Henry?" I asked again. "Uh, Hello? Henry?" I excel at bein' annoyin' he'll probably open his mouth in a secon-
"Can I come over?"
"Uh, y-yeah, sure."
He hung up and I was blankly starin' at myself in the mirror, I'm in my tank top and heart-shaped boxers. I heard the sounds of the birds chirpin', and then I quickly stormed to the bathroom, took a shower, brushed my hair and teeth, and scurried to tidy up my place. Slam-dunked my 5-6 bottles o' wine in the trash, put all my clothes lyin' on the floor back where they belong, IN THE DAMN CLOSET. I put on my casual clothes, red Hawaiian-shirt, black jacket and pants a few seconds before I heard a knock comin' from the door. I opened the door for Henry, and he was there, looking conventionally attractive as usual. Goddamn Sicilian. "Hey, Joe." He greeted me, before I shifted away to let him in, "Ya doin' okay, Henry?" he nodded, he proceeded to close the door, and presented me with a grand-lookin' bouquet o'….roses?
"Sorry 'bout yesterday, kid."
"Hey, uhh… don't worry! Thanks. That's so sweet?" How the fuck am I supposed ta respond to that? You're a straight guy, okay. Then there comes your straight guy best friend. He gives ya flowers and, uhh? Uh? Thank you.
"Do ya like them?"
"Yeah. They, uhh, give out nice aroma an' shit."
He smiled, helped himself out by sitting on my sofa, his hand on the back and locked his honey-brown eyes at me. He was a thing o' beauty. I placed the bouquet of roses on the glass table in front o' us and sat beside him.
"It's nice that you, uh, came by to pay a visit." I tried to keep my bashfulness to myself, I didn't want nobody seein' me lookin' shy, I ain't fond o' lookin' like a pansy, so I looked down at my knees, makin' it even more obvious that I was sorta uncomfortable to be sayin' that, especially when I'm next ta him. I'm really weak when it comes to bat an eye at someone. I look at someone more than 5 seconds and I lose myself completely by grinning like an idiot.
Henry was completely oblivious, he didn't know what's goin' on in my head.
"Hey, Joe. What's the matter?" he asked gently.
"Nothin'! Uh, I like the color of these roses. Red's my favorite color, actually."
"Really?" he smirked.
"Red is a vibrant color. It suits ya well, and, well, red flowers represent affection."
I felt like a water heater, I was boilin'. I could almost feel my skin peelin' off after sweatin' so much. It was too much for me to take until I buried my face on the sofa cushion. Everythin' was too loud in my head, and his words were playin' on repeat, I pictured his face when he said that, every goddamn second, on repeat until—
Until I felt a strong, warm hand restin' on my back. "Joe, am I bein' too direct?"
When he said that, I tried to picture it. I imagined him lookin' incredibly worried and disappointed, I imagined him regretting every fuckin' word he said because I let him down by bein' incredibly awkward. "Ah, forgive me. I didn't mean—"
"Itsh arryeet" I murmured on the cushion.
Henry sighed, I think. Probably rolled his eyes. "Joe, I thought we made it clear that I don't get a damn word you say when ya speak outta-this-world language? Like the mouth-full-of-food, the face-pressed-against-a-pillow, especially the annoying gurgly talk before ya spit water after brushin' yer teeth kinda language?
I pulled my face back, and looked at him. "It's alright. Henry."
He chuckled, then slowly ruffled my raven-colored hair with his hands. Afterwards, he pulled me even close to him, and kissed me. All so deliberately.
I didn't wanna make a big deal out of anythin' no more. I'm tired. I approved o' that, anyway.
He kissed me so hard, so desperately, his tongue tasted so great. His hands were rubbin' my back, then he proceeded to carry me up make me sit on his laps. Really sturdy laps. He took off my jacket then, "Am I takin' this too far? Because I ain't thinkin' o' stoppin'." He was breathin' heavily and so was yours truly. "But isn't that rape?" I whispered after lookin' around. "Uh?" Henry looked surprisingly confused, I didn't picture I would evuh, not in my life, see him make such a blatantly dramatic expression for a guy so stoic. This day is off to a wild start.
He caressed my face and looked at me worryingly, "Joe, I ain't doin' this if ya don't want to but, I really, really need you."
"I, need ya, too?"
"Defines what ya mean by that."
"Uh, I'm I'm havin' conflictin' thoughts and stuff, I don't know, Henry."
"Ahh" he gave out a loud groan, obviously lookin' disappointed. Not the answer he expected buuuut, I wrapped my arms around his neck, hopin' not ta look awkward before kissin' his chin, his forehead and his neck. That surprised him surely well enough, and tackled me with kisses literally everywhere. I felt so hot suddenly, I thought I let the windows open but I couldn't check because I found myself unbuttoning his vest, with no afterthought, I couldn't control my actions, this eye-widening lust for him was beyond measure, it felt like I needed him for so very long. I ain't the romantic type, I never made love, I only fuck. Of all the ladies I've slept with, I didn't love any o' them. I'm now beginning to question myself why I haven't thought of havin' a girlfriend. Jesus, it all makes sense now. This sounds so funny, Joe Barbaro, a faggot. Faggot. Loves guys. After fucking so many broads. How the tables have turned.
I took off his tie, jus' keepin' him with his red shirt and black pants. He looked very pleased, and at the same time, relieved to find out that I need 'im just as much. I stripped my clothes off and he kissed me everywhere so lustfully. He pressed my chest against the glass table and propositioned himself a chance to fuck the hell out of me, it was so big, he ripped me in half and put even more effort in each thrust, I couldn't do nothin' but groan and take it. I loved it so much, I didn't even do anythin' at all. I bit my lips as soon as he hit the spot and he came, loud "Ahh, Joe" and "I love you"'s escaped his mouth, and that made me feel so damn special. He wasn't even exhausted, he kept fuckin' me harder and harder, and I was as wet as his hair after I poured it with beer last night. "Harder, dammit!" I yelled, and he did as told. Like the proud gentleman he is. I hoped the moment to last longer, and obviously it didn't (Shout out to Scarpa!)
"Uh, it was really fun." I put on my shoes lookin' like a nervous wreck. He gently brushed his lips against my face, "Makes a man happy to know his love is happy." His words were simple but sincere. He looked at me with so much affection and adoration, we were both exchanging smiles on our tired faces. He kissed my chin and lent me his hand to so I could wake up and leave together with him.
It was depressing to realize I was havin' the best times of my life while my childhood friend Vito was locked up. I gritted my teeth and my conscious told me flip out and do somethin' about that, but on other hand, sulkin' won't do much good at all – patience is a virtue, after all. I don't think Henry woulda confessed to me if Vito's around. God, now I sound like I'm grateful that he isn't. If anyone asks me if I evah been ta war, I'll tell them "Yeah, with my head".
Henry was very generous with me, he showed me so much love after that day, it's as if in each passin' day, our love for each other grows. The Heavens were the limit. I remember when he bought me an attractive suit that costs a cool $2000, takin' me to a park, as we stare at the starry skies together and talk 'bout actors, our parents and sometimes I ask Henry about his ex-wife, he usually finishes talkin' 'bout her with "I love you more, though". He's really cute.
We drove around town for a long time one night, pumpin' up the volume of our (My) favorite jams and Henry yellin' at me to turn it down. Yeah, he's still so borin'. We kissed a lot and we fucked a lot more. Every now and then, he asks me if we should go see a movie if I was up for it. And I was all up for it! Sometimes he gets a call from his boss and kisses me one last time before leavin'. Spendin' time alone without 'im is the most borin' and dreadful thing nowadays. Henry Tomasino was like a Christmas present that arrived late.
He loved me.
I loved him too.
It's 6PM and I'm walkin' down my used-to-be quiet neighborhood. For the first time in a long while, I'm feelin' very cold and tired. I stand next to my once-called favorite streetlamp. It has shown it's age and it's not even workin' anymore. This town fuckin' sucks.
It's been 7 hours after Henry's death. My eyes are moist, and afterwards, I completely lose it and began to sob uncontrollably. For the first time in a long while, I feel like the tiniest person in a world full of towering people. I sobbed a few hours ago and I'm so tired. So tired of cryin' and feelin' like shit. But it was hopeless and helpless, I cried for a while and nobody who passed by gave a shit 'cauz men don't fuckin' cry. Men ain't goddamn pussies. My heart couldn't even take it no more. I don't wanna think anymore. This fuckin' sucks.
NOTE: I didn't change anything from the first draft, resulting in a poor, amateurishly-written and sorta rushed?(even tho it took me 4hrs?) fanfic. Next time I'm writing a 90% funny fic because I suck at drama lmao. If anybody's reading this: THANK YOU and I hope you enjoyed it a little, there needs to be more Henjoe fanfics tbh. The fic contains some tiny foreshadowing and stuff? Reviews are appreciated! :'D