[Bruno runs his fingers through Polnareff's hair slowly as gentle encouragement while he speaks. Occasionally, a small smile appears, but never too wide because the ache created from love and longing is obvious in every word. Things like that ache deserve quiet respect.]
I'm glad you had someone like that with you.
[Because Polnareff needs that sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes he just needs someone to rein him back in. Whatever else Abdul may or may not have been, it's obvious that he helped keep Polnareff steady, most likely in the moments when he needed it most. Kakyoin likely tried, but he lacked the confidence and ultimately the maturity to do it in a way that Polnareff could respond to. It had to be Abdul.]
[He keeps sliding his fingers against his skin, his eyes flickering over his face. Talking about Abdul hurts. It'll probably always hurt, in the same way talking about Sherry always hurts. But that hurt comes with a wonderful warmth, something nostalgic and fond all at once.]
He taught me a little Arabic once. Numbers, and how to say basic stuff like hello and whatever . . . he let me teach him a bunch of French before telling me he knew it perfectly, because of course he did. It got easier to talk to him after that-- once I could do it in French, I mean. I think I started to understand him better. He wasn't as open as me, so it took me a while to understand him.
[It's gentle teasing though because it's one thing that Bruno wouldn't change about Polnareff for the world. It makes it easier to trust him, and to eventually reciprocate with some openness of your own. Bruno imagines Abdul figured that out for himself once he came to realize that it was genuine.]
I hope he broke it to you gently when he told you he could speak French fluently.
Are you kidding me? Of course he didn't. I was teaching him phrases, and I said something like, "Okay, you got that?" and he answered me in perfect French, all smooth and shit. Of course I did, I can speak French perfectly, I'm Mohammad Abdul and I can pronounce everything with a Parisian accent--
[His voice goes deep for that impression, his mouth scrunching up into what he imagines is a smugly superior expression. It collapses after a moment, and Polnareff huffs, snuggling closer to Bruno. His mood has lifted a fair bit, it seems, as he offers his boyfriend a pitiful look.]
All my friends are cruel.
[Are, present tense. Polnareff hesitates, draws in a breath-- and then shakes his head minutely. He won't change it.]
[Are is a hard word to miss in his sentence after all the was that had been floating around. But when Polnareff shakes his head, Bruno goes with his instinct to leave it be and continue to follow Polnareff's lead. It's okay, he thinks, for Abdul to not be so firmly rooted in the past. That sometimes he can be pulled into the present with the ones who are.]
You're just such an easy target that even the kind ones can't help themselves.
[Normally, a sentence like that would be a whine, joking and eager to be comforting. This time, though, it's a quiet murmur, and Polnareff noses against him.]
[He does, too. Bruno can be merciless in his teasing, but only to a limit. He knows precisely where the line is, and always stops far short of it. There's not a moment where Polnareff feel as if he can't trust Bruno, and that's remarkable.
He sighs again, shifting to push into Bruno's touch.]
Mm. Tell me something. Something . . . I don't know. That doesn't matter. Something stupid. Distract me?
[Something to distract him? Bruno's quiet a brief moment as he thinks of what might be sufficiently distracting that isn't going to lend itself to heavier discussion again. Nothing serious or important.]
Did you know that when an octopus moves one of its tentacles, it actually does most of the thinking in the tentacles for it rather than in its brain? If you were to cut off its connection to the brain, it'd still move like a regular tentacle all on its own.
[Thank God for facts about the ocean and the creatures in it. You can't more irrelevant to the previous topic of conversation or safer from hard topics than facts about octopuses. Especially when it has the potential to gross Polnareff out, which isn't very hard when it comes to sea creatures.]
[It's a less emphatic curse than it might usually be, but it's still sincere. Polnareff wrinkles his nose, pulling a face. Gross. That's most definitely a distracting fact, and Polnareff focuses on it as much as he can.]
And then what happens to it? It just-- what, wiggles around forever?
No, it's not like a starfish where it just grows another starfish. It'll die eventually. But if the octopus is caught by a predator, that can give it time to escape. It'll grow a new limb in a month or two, and be as good as new.
Or I'll just bully Jotaro into doing it. He'd definitely do it. He'd probably like it, because as much as he loves Kakyoin, the sea is definitely his first love.
[There. That settled, Polnareff pushes his fingers through Bruno's hair, smoothing it back from his face.]
That and a bunch of sexy shit, that's gonna be your big birthday, because I'll be honest, darling, I can't do any better than Bitches Brew.
[Listen, Bruno isn't going to argue about the importance of birthdays. Not with Polnareff. He knows how frustrated he gets when the others want to treat their birthdays like another day.]
[Bruno smiles a little, running his fingers through Polnareff's hair again a few times before he presses a kiss first to his forehead followed by one to his lips.]
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I'm glad you had someone like that with you.
[Because Polnareff needs that sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes he just needs someone to rein him back in. Whatever else Abdul may or may not have been, it's obvious that he helped keep Polnareff steady, most likely in the moments when he needed it most. Kakyoin likely tried, but he lacked the confidence and ultimately the maturity to do it in a way that Polnareff could respond to. It had to be Abdul.]
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[He keeps sliding his fingers against his skin, his eyes flickering over his face. Talking about Abdul hurts. It'll probably always hurt, in the same way talking about Sherry always hurts. But that hurt comes with a wonderful warmth, something nostalgic and fond all at once.]
He taught me a little Arabic once. Numbers, and how to say basic stuff like hello and whatever . . . he let me teach him a bunch of French before telling me he knew it perfectly, because of course he did. It got easier to talk to him after that-- once I could do it in French, I mean. I think I started to understand him better. He wasn't as open as me, so it took me a while to understand him.
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[It's gentle teasing though because it's one thing that Bruno wouldn't change about Polnareff for the world. It makes it easier to trust him, and to eventually reciprocate with some openness of your own. Bruno imagines Abdul figured that out for himself once he came to realize that it was genuine.]
I hope he broke it to you gently when he told you he could speak French fluently.
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Are you kidding me? Of course he didn't. I was teaching him phrases, and I said something like, "Okay, you got that?" and he answered me in perfect French, all smooth and shit. Of course I did, I can speak French perfectly, I'm Mohammad Abdul and I can pronounce everything with a Parisian accent--
[His voice goes deep for that impression, his mouth scrunching up into what he imagines is a smugly superior expression. It collapses after a moment, and Polnareff huffs, snuggling closer to Bruno. His mood has lifted a fair bit, it seems, as he offers his boyfriend a pitiful look.]
All my friends are cruel.
[Are, present tense. Polnareff hesitates, draws in a breath-- and then shakes his head minutely. He won't change it.]
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You're just such an easy target that even the kind ones can't help themselves.
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[Normally, a sentence like that would be a whine, joking and eager to be comforting. This time, though, it's a quiet murmur, and Polnareff noses against him.]
You're my boyfriend, chéri, you gotta defend me.
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Of course, cicci. You know I always will.
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[He does, too. Bruno can be merciless in his teasing, but only to a limit. He knows precisely where the line is, and always stops far short of it. There's not a moment where Polnareff feel as if he can't trust Bruno, and that's remarkable.
He sighs again, shifting to push into Bruno's touch.]
Mm. Tell me something. Something . . . I don't know. That doesn't matter. Something stupid. Distract me?
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Did you know that when an octopus moves one of its tentacles, it actually does most of the thinking in the tentacles for it rather than in its brain? If you were to cut off its connection to the brain, it'd still move like a regular tentacle all on its own.
[Thank God for facts about the ocean and the creatures in it. You can't more irrelevant to the previous topic of conversation or safer from hard topics than facts about octopuses. Especially when it has the potential to gross Polnareff out, which isn't very hard when it comes to sea creatures.]
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[It's a less emphatic curse than it might usually be, but it's still sincere. Polnareff wrinkles his nose, pulling a face. Gross. That's most definitely a distracting fact, and Polnareff focuses on it as much as he can.]
And then what happens to it? It just-- what, wiggles around forever?
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No, it's not like a starfish where it just grows another starfish. It'll die eventually. But if the octopus is caught by a predator, that can give it time to escape. It'll grow a new limb in a month or two, and be as good as new.
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[A beat. He thinks about this for a long few moments, then pats Bruno's cheek fondly and adds:]
That's what I'm getting you for your next birthday.
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You'd have to touch it first to do that.
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[True love!]
Or I'll just bully Jotaro into doing it. He'd definitely do it. He'd probably like it, because as much as he loves Kakyoin, the sea is definitely his first love.
[There. That settled, Polnareff pushes his fingers through Bruno's hair, smoothing it back from his face.]
That and a bunch of sexy shit, that's gonna be your big birthday, because I'll be honest, darling, I can't do any better than Bitches Brew.
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You know I don't expect something like that every time you give me something, but I'm sure I'll love whatever you give me next year just as much.
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[He says it so firmly that it must be true.]
I'm not gonna top that for every gift, but birthday gifts have to be good. Especially for you.
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Especially for me?
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[He offers him half a smile, tired and quiet and sincere. On a night like tonight, his words mean more than they usually might as he says:]
You're the most important.
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I love you, too.