[ If it were anyone other than Abbacchio - if it were anything but this moment - he might find the advice patronizing. Bruno doesn't need advice. This isn't the first time death has taken someone from him; it's not even the first time Bruno's been indirectly responsible for it. But he knows Abbacchio, and he knows he just wants to help. And Bruno's not sure why he said anything, now. Maybe he just wanted Abbacchio to know that he wasn't suffering alone. Bruno's bad at it, too, the suffering. Maybe it's just that he'd never said anything before, and he's not sure he will again. ]
I wanted you to hear it. I'm not any different from you.
[ to be strong and logical and deaden his feelings - these are things Bruno has taught himself to do, things that help him take care of others and protect himself. He has a modicum of self-awareness, enough to know how he can come off because of it: cold, distant, aloof. Underneath it, though, he's still very much human. The weight of what's happened has been pressing down on him since that encounter with the boss, getting heavier and heavier with each new tragedy, and he simply doesn't know what to do with it other than put it aside. But if hiding it might hurt Abbacchio, too, then he'll share it. Just a little. ]
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[ If it were anyone other than Abbacchio - if it were anything but this moment - he might find the advice patronizing. Bruno doesn't need advice. This isn't the first time death has taken someone from him; it's not even the first time Bruno's been indirectly responsible for it. But he knows Abbacchio, and he knows he just wants to help. And Bruno's not sure why he said anything, now. Maybe he just wanted Abbacchio to know that he wasn't suffering alone. Bruno's bad at it, too, the suffering. Maybe it's just that he'd never said anything before, and he's not sure he will again. ]
I wanted you to hear it. I'm not any different from you.
[ to be strong and logical and deaden his feelings - these are things Bruno has taught himself to do, things that help him take care of others and protect himself. He has a modicum of self-awareness, enough to know how he can come off because of it: cold, distant, aloof. Underneath it, though, he's still very much human. The weight of what's happened has been pressing down on him since that encounter with the boss, getting heavier and heavier with each new tragedy, and he simply doesn't know what to do with it other than put it aside. But if hiding it might hurt Abbacchio, too, then he'll share it. Just a little. ]
... He missed you a lot, you know. Narancia.