Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Giorno? Are you okay?”

Bruno knocks on the scuffed door lightly, leaning against the wall as he awaits a response while trying not to pace the small hallway.

It’s nearly afternoon and throughout the day, no one has heard from Giorno. At first, Bruno had wanted to believe Giorno was sleeping in for once and he would gladly let him, as he knows just how much sleep he desperately needs to catch up on. However, after hours of the uncharacteristic silence and taking account of Giorno’s odd behavior the days prior, to say Bruno wasn’t worried would be a lie.

Over the last couple of days, Giorno had been trying hard to conceal his irritation, but everyone was well aware of the strange temperament emitting from the youngest teen.

Bruno had thought that maybe it was the restlessness from no longer having any work finally kicking in after their leave from Passione and subsequent move to the Italian countryside. The others had already gone through similar stages of ailment after their whole departure and Bruno had been there throughout to help ease the burden, something he was ready to do for Giorno in an instant, though he felt as if this was something else entirely.

The room stays quiet although Bruno can hear light shuffling that signals Giorno is awake. After about a minute Bruno’s about to try again for another response, though he finally hears a weak call of a response to enter.

The room is dark when he walks in; the curtains are tightly drawn together and covered by an extra thick blanket to block any remaining light of the summer day– an oddity for someone like Giorno who basks in nature. It takes a minute for Bruno’s eyes to adjust as he closes the door behind him for privacy; the house betrothed to him by his remaining family is smaller than where they were inhabiting mere months ago, although it’s bigger than their original apartment and feels much cozier.

Giorno lies in bed, his blanket pulled tightly around his frame to the point only tufts of his blonde hair peeks out from beneath. He lets out a noise of acknowledgement, though it’s not as prim and proper as Giorno normally strives for when it sounds strained– almost pained.

Bruno sits on the edge of the bed near him, gazing at him with warm empathy, “Did I wake you?” He asks, to which Giorno shakes his head from as far as Bruno can tell. He helps pull the blanket down a bit so he can see at least half of Giorno’s face. His eyes are baggy and bloodshot with dark circles underneath them, his skin is pale.

“Do you not feel well?” Bruno asks as he reaches out to press the back of his hand to Giorno’s forehead– it’s only slightly warmer than normal, which could have just been caused by the heat of the blanket.

Giorno doesn’t respond. He shifts to sit up more and, glancing down, Bruno can see he’s clutching something tightly in his palm. When Giorno’s hazy mind realizes the man is still expecting an answer, he shakes his head once again, trying to look convincing although he gazes at Bruno with pure exhaustion. He doesn’t speak further, and it makes Bruno furrow his eyebrows at just how uncharacteristic this all is.

Bruno clicks his tongue at the non-answers, “What can I do to help?” He tries another route, hoping for a difference, and while this time Giorno tries to speak he shuts himself down as his eyes widen for a mere second before he turns away to wipe at his mouth with the hand not clenching something. Bruno stares in confusion by the act.

“I’m fine, Bucciarati.” Giorno forces out, voice coming as strained and clogged. He doesn’t elaborate more than that.

Bruno’s not blind. He sees the obvious red flags, and he makes it known– never the one to play games when it comes to the well-being of anyone in this house. “You’re hiding something.” He cuts right to the point.

Giorno stiffens immediately. He goes to lie on instinct but when Bruno raises an eyebrow, daring him to argue, he goes quiet. Bruno softens, “I just want to help, GioGio. You can tell me.” He soothes immediately.

Bruno knows it’s a struggle to be able to open up and reach out for help, the others were much the same when Bruno had first met them. Not to say there hasn’t been progress made with Giorno, after living with him for nearly half a year, there have been moments when Giorno felt as if he could open up though there would usually be guilt and a step backwards following in the aftermath. Bruno understands that it takes time and as such he remains patient all the while taking to giving gentle reminders and pushes to assure Giorno that he is genuine with how much he cares and that he’s not going anywhere.

Giorno sighs before he caves. There’s not much of a fight as with what has happened, he knows he most likely won’t be able to hide it.

When Giorno opens his hand, Bruno’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise when he sees that in his palm lie four bloody canine teeth. When he gazes back at Giorno, he sees how he tries to hide his bleeding mouth, but Bruno is quick to capture his chin. The two engage in a small, silent stare down as Giorno tries to push through the guilt of not being able to handle this by himself, but ultimately he concedes once again and opens his mouth. Bruno is quick to grab a tissue from the bedside table to mop up the blood that spills out.

“It’s okay.” He reassures quickly as Giorno coughs slightly.

When Bruno takes a peek, he expects to see merely bloody holes from where the teeth have fallen out, but he’s once again surprised when instead he sees a new set of bloodied teeth much larger than they should be. Irritated gums surround them and when Bruno slightly pulls back Giorno's lip, he can see that the inside has been scraped and cut.

Upon feeling a sting, he pulls his hand back, only then does he realize that the tip of his finger was grazed from the sharp set. Bruno curses under his breath as he reaches for another tissue to wrap the cut as dots of blood begin to appear. He’s totally perplexed. Those couldn’t have been Giorno’s baby teeth that fell out– he knows some people lose them later on in life, but they don’t just all fall out together and the size of the new teeth and their sharpness are strange.

Bruno turns back to Giorno to reassure him, knowing that he is probably just as confused and worried over what’s happening. He freezes, though, when Giorno’s eyes are staring intently at the bloodied tissue against Bruno’s thumb.

Is it just his imagination or are Giorno's normal green eyes tinted red? Did his new canines get bigger? Bruno’s seen what many consider impossible, but this is something else he has no clue of.

The wind outside creates a howl against the house as the room feels colder while the two stare at each other. Bruno can’t read the emotions in Giorno’s eyes. His breathing is slow, his face remaining slack and equally unreadable, but it has a dark hint to it. It’s something Bruno has never seen before and it sends a slight chill down his back.

“GioGio?”

Bruno tries not to flinch back when Giorno gets closer. His gaze is still on the tissue and, wordlessly, he goes to reach out for Bruno's hand. It's only brief. His fingers barely grazing before he stops himself at the last minute. Giorno flings himself off the bed in an instant, backing himself into a corner as he breathes harshly, the fog clearing from his eyes.

“Get out.” He breathes. Bruno pauses, staring in bewilderment as he is unsure of what has happened.

“Giorno, what’s wrong?”

He stands from the bed to approach his youngest, though he freezes when Giorno lets out a barely concealed whimper. He pushes himself further against the wall, shaking.

“Something’s wrong.” Giorno whispers in such a small voice, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He refuses to look at him. Bruno doesn’t know what that means, but he decides that he doesn’t want to find out.

He ponders briefly before making his decision. “I’ll check on you in ten minutes.” He promises even though it hurts to leave Giorno in such distress, but in the end he finds it will help in the long run if he leaves to let Giorno calm down before they resume this talk. Surprisingly, Giorno nods.

Bruno slips out, the door closing with a soft click, and he can only stand dazed in the hallway as he plays over what just happened. He can’t even begin to make sense of it all; the fallen teeth, the sharp bloodied ones in their place, the dark stare on Giorno’s face at the sight of his blood. It was chilling, but Bruno pulls himself together, Giorno is just as confused and scared.

“Something’s wrong.”

He remembers such a small voice, covered with a hint of fear. How his eyes were disoriented as he had come out of whatever fog had taken him. Giorno had looked so wrong.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He had sounded so confused, unsure of why he was feeling such a way, why he was having such thoughts. He had looked scared of himself at that moment, staring at Bruno in a silent plea to not approach, as he couldn’t take the thought of anything bad happening to him.

Bruno breathes in, steadying his nerves. He’s not scared of Giorno, he’ll do anything to help him. He may not know what’s going on, but he has a feeling someone else he knows does as he walks down the stairs.

“–Dio Brando.” Polnareff’s static voice comes over the landline as Bruno sits at the kitchen table. 

After the defeat of Diavolo and before they had left, they had helped Polnareff recover– thankfully, no longer trapped as a turtle. They were able to safely reach out to his loved ones after he was considered missing for a couple of years, which was how they were able to meet Polnareff’s husband, Mohammed Avdol. Subsequently, afterwards, they had stayed in contact as Polnareff wanted to repay the favor although Bruno told him not to. 

To Polnareff, keeping in contact was something he had stressed on even more once he knew of the connection of Giorno, although he was waiting for a moment to bring it up– if he even needed to as by all accounts Giorno had seemed like a ‘normal’ teenager, he was so far from DIO that Polnareff hadn’t been worried the way Jotaro was instead he had focused more on having the Speedwagon Foundation resources for Giorno’s use seeing as he was just as much of a Joestar.

However, seeing the way this phone call had turned, he admits he should have brought it to attention sooner. It would have saved a lot of confusion and heart-ache. 

“We hunted him down in Cairo, Egypt more than 10 years ago. He was Giorno’s biological father. Well one of them. The factors surrounding Giorno’s birth are simply bizarre for a normal person but all of this to say not only was DIO a Stand-User but he was a vampire. We believed his genes wouldn’t win as Giorno hadn’t shown any signs and DIO was merely a head who stole Jonathan Joestar’s body, which meant Giorno technically came from his–”

He’s cut off as Avdol clears his throat in the background, motioning him to not continue that notion. Bruno gets the gist though and wishes that would have been cut from the telling.

Bruno sighs when the two are reduced to squabbling. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he glances back at the kitchen clock, hoping that Giorno isn’t worse than when he had left him. Leone eyes him as he enters the kitchen, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Bruno waves him off before he stands, walking into the closed-off laundry room to grant some privacy.

“Polnareff.” He reminds, and the man gives a sheepish laugh.

“ Je suis désolé. As I was saying, it seems as if the genes were dormant till now and Giorno’s going through a transformation.”

“So you’re saying he’s a vampire now?” Bruno hysterically asks, trying to keep his voice down. Though all of this feels like a fever dream, he’s almost surprised how quickly he finds himself believing all of this, but he doesn’t have any logical reason not to.

Avdol takes over the phone,

"We know it’s a big change and overall a shock, but we’ll help you through the process with the resources we have on hand. All you need to do is assure Giorno you’ll be there, that you’ll help ease the burden, although I feel like I don’t need to remind you of that. For now, we would like to speak to Giorno ourselves. We believe it would be better for us to break the news since I’m sure he will have deeper questions regarding his fathers and family line that we can answer.” 

When Bruno reenters the room, Giorno is back to how they started– curled up in bed, though the shaking hasn’t ceased and it sends a slight pain through Bruno’s chest as he questions if the decision he made of leaving was right but ultimately has to admit it was. It gave him the answer he needed and it will help Giorno. Bruno sits back on the bed, brushing parts of Giorno’s hair back to grab his attention. Giorno flinches briefly at the contact before he relaxes when he sees it’s Bruno.

“I’m sorry, Bucciarati.” Giorno whispers, staring up at him in remorse. He goes to speak more– unsure of what he even wants to say but Bruno shushes him calmly.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Coccinella.” Giorno relaxes more with the term of endearment. “I know it may have been overstepping, but I talked with Polnareff and Avdol. They know what’s going on and how to explain.” He holds out the phone, Polnareff's loud greeting ringing out. Giorno takes it from him, looking apprehensive, but Bruno gives a reassuring smile. “Do you want me to stay?” Giorno shakes his head and Bruno respects the choice, nodding as he makes his leave.

With a wavering breath, Giorno raises the phone to his ear as he prepares for an answer.

The change is immediate, and Giorno’s world feels as if it’s burning around him.

Finding out the genes he had from his father who was practically nothing short of a monster? Giorno shouldn’t have been too surprised, considering he was the one his mother, of all people, had worshipped. If someone like her views another as a higher power, then he couldn’t find any high hopes although Giorno had wanted to have some which is why he had carried the photo, simply a childish way to pin his hopes and wants on someone he had never met while growing up in a horrible environment. It had all been in vain.

Finding out the genes he was given made him a vampire? It had felt ridiculous, but the downfall was quick. Giorno had felt himself becoming hysterical on the inside as he frantically refused to believe it, no matter the stark evidence. 

He ultimately had to concede when he needed to feed. It was something that he had strongly been trying to ignore even with the unbearable hunger pangs going through him. Bucciarati, however, had been able to see through him in an instance as he remained a presence. He hadn’t even flinched when offering his wrist as a substitute until they could get Giorno blood bags and figure out the proper logistics.

Though, in the end, it had led to a long breakdown in Bucciarati arms. Giorno had felt horrible after snapping out from the bliss of having his hunger finally satisfied. To him, he had hurt the one he looked up to the most, and he was sure he was viewed as disgusting– regarded just the same as his father

Nonetheless, Bucciarati had kept him in that loving embrace. Instead, he had talked about anything else other than what had happened as he smoothed Giorno’s hair back and wiped his face. He didn’t even give a single flinch when Giorno had gotten blood on his white sweater. It confused Giorno more than anything as he shook, unable to believe that the man would treat him with such kindness after consuming his blood. He should have been horrified, not unfazed.

To Bruno, Giorno is just the same as he’s always been. He can’t help what has happened and Bruno doesn’t want to break any of the progress they have made these last few months by having Giorno believe he’s scared of him. Which is a silly notion, really. 

There are plenty of rules to have come from this transformation: the standard no silver, no religious items, no garlic. Giorno’s reflection no longer shows up in any of the mirrors and devastatingly enough no sunlight either. Giorno’s only able to go outside after the sun falls to save himself from any burns, though it doesn’t feel the same as the garden begins to overgrow as Giorno stays in his room. The house grows darker as Bruno sets up blackout curtains to keep him safe. 

The others notice Giorno’s absence right away, though any attempts to talk to him are ignored as Giorno locks himself away and Bruno has to play mediator as he lies that Giorno’s sick and is experiencing heavy migraines as a way to explain the curtains. It calms them only briefly, but Bruno can tell they are suspicious of the explanation.

Polnareff and Avdol come to visit– along with their old Boston Terrier, Iggy. They had wanted to help break the news to the others as a way to not only take the burden off Bucciarati but to check up on Giorno themselves.

-

“–A vampire? Like an actual vampire? Like this isn’t just his Halloween costume?”

“Narancia, dear, it is July.”

“Yeah, but you know what they say–”

“No.”

“Got it.”

Avdol pinches the bridge of his nose, Polnareff sits behind him in his wheelchair trying to hide his laugh. With a nod, he leaves Polnareff to any questions the group might have as he makes his way upstairs, intent on visiting Giorno, who’s still hidden in his room. He checks his bag as he walks up the stairs, making sure the gift he has brought is still there and he smiles to himself once he confirms its presence.

Knocking on the scuffed door, he waits for a response before he pushes it open. Giorno sits on his bed, looking just as pale, sickly, and miserable as the day Bucciarati had found him when this had all started, though there’s still a brief smile when he sees Avdol.

He mouths a hello before looking away, he knows he doesn’t look well kept at all in the picture perfect way he usually strives for; his hair is out of its normal style as he’s unable to see his reflection and he has red stained cheeks and dark heavy bags underneath his eyes that are puffy from all the crying. These past few days are the most he’s ever cried, mortifyingly enough, it feels as if every breaking moment in his life has hit full force leaving him as nothing but broken glass shards.

Like Bucciarati though, Avdol takes it in stride. While these are much different circumstances, he was used to moments like these when visiting Noriaki and Mr.Joestar.

The then 17-year-old had been a wreck after the events of Egypt, pushing himself past his limits to force himself to recover faster as his body went through severe changes. Avdol remembers just how tired and desperate Joseph had looked whenever he visited as he had gladly stepped into the role of a parental figure after it was revealed Noriaki’s parents never reported him missing, nor did they come to the hospital to claim him. To Avdol, it’s nearly the same here, they are built on the same foundation– DIO has once again ruined another family.

Avdol pulls the gift out of his bag, holding it to get Giorno’s attention. “I brought the dessert you wanted to try last time we visited.” He doesn’t walk over, instead wanting Giorno to make the move on his own.

Giorno hesitates, before slowly he begins to make his way over. He gently takes the gift box, “Thank you.” He whispers genuinely. He backs up to put distance between each other as he moves to sit back down on his bed and with Avdol nod as permission, he opens the box.

“Basboosa.” Avdol says with excitement, hoping it may brighten the mood. It works as he sees a glimmer return to Giorno’s eyes and a soft smile brightens his feature not just as a passing motion. “Popular Middle East dessert, it originated in Egypt.” He walks further into the room.

“You’re staying?” Giorno asks in surprise when Avdol pulls out the desk chair to sit down with a raised eyebrow.

“I haven’t seen you since May, of course I’m staying.” He says it as if it’s obvious which only confuses Giorno even more. This is one of the men who have had their life turned upside down by his father and yet he is staying knowing full well that Giorno not only looks like him but has in fact taken after him in this transformation. Yet he trusts him? He feels as if the room spins.

His gaze hardens and the smile that was there slips off, “Aren’t you scared I’ll hurt you?” He asks seriously, though Avdol only brushes him off.

“You have already demonstrated self-control even when hungry–”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“Maybe, but I do know you’ve already fed. As such, I have no reason to believe you’ll hurt me and I’m not going to hold you to a standard of unfound fear. That wouldn’t be fair or something you deserve.”

The room lapses into silence as Giorno looks away. Avdol looks on him with compassion, truly feeling for the boy and wishes it wouldn’t have gone this way.

“Giorno, what your father did–”

Giorno shuts him down in an instant, “I don’t want to talk about him.” If Avdol squints closely he can almost mold him into the shape of a familiar red-head. He shakes the image away, Giorno isn’t Noriaki and it would be unfair to compare them– it would take away from Giorno in a way.

“Very well.” He accepts quietly, “For what it’s worth, I believe you will get through this. You have many on your side.”

Giorno doesn’t answer nor does he even look at him, instead gazing blankly at the wall as his hands shake. Avdol has to give a prayer for this family.

-

“A vampire! Do you know how cool that is?” Narancia asks excitedly, holding Iggy in his lap as he pets the old dog. Surprisingly, Iggy loves Narancia even though he is just as loud as Polnareff.

“It’s demonic.” Mista scoffs darkly under his breath, though Bruno hears it as he sits by the younger and he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

Fugo raises an unimpressed eyebrow, believing this is merely a prank, “You seriously want us to believe vampires exist?” He ignores the way Iggy has been glaring at him, while the dog loves Narancia he will attack Fugo at any given point.

Polnareff sighs, it’s a logical question in retrospect. “What do you suggest I do, kid? Fly you all to Egypt and go back to 1989 to see DIO through Moody Blues?”

Fugo sputters, though Abbacchio interrupts.

“So, what do you suggest we do? Wait until Giovanna kills us all?”

“Giorno isn’t like his father.” Polnareff says sternly, his gaze hardening as him and Abbacchio engage in what feels like a stare down.

“I’m not saying he is.” Abbacchio eyes Trish out of the corner of his eyes, knowing he will have to tread lightly. “But one wrong move, one unexpected hunger spike, and he may very well kill us.”

The room takes another uncomfortable turn, the summer storm rain hitting the windowpane is the only sound filling the silent room. Polnareff goes to speak again and Bruno himself sits up to defend Giorno when both are cut off.

“Abbacchio actually makes a good point, you know.”

Everyone's attention shifts to Mista, with different levels of shock and confusion, except for Abbacchio, who gestures towards Mista as if confirming his point. Bruno goes still as it suddenly kicks in just how superstitious Mista truly is, and if Bruno remembers correctly Mista still has a semblance of mild religion, which may explain his take on this, and Bruno curses himself for not telling him himself.

Polnareff is admittedly rather taken aback. Although he had gone into this unsure of how exactly the others would react. “I know this is a change.” He admits, “But this is even harder on Giorno himself. We have resources available and plans put into motion for moving forward, ones that Bucciarati is well aware of. If you need time, then fine but do not make that visible to Giorno and let it ruin how you perceive him.”

The room falls back to silence again and Polnareff can only give a look of sympathy when he makes eye contact with Bruno.

-

As anyone would expect, more changes come as the weeks stretch on and given resources are put into place.

The Speedwagon Foundation supplies blood bags, though they don’t offer many details other than they were obtained ethically. The blood bags are a mix of human and animal blood, no one ever tells Giorno which is which, though even so he can barely bring himself to drink them as he feels utter disgust towards himself no matter how good they taste. It’s not as if he’s killed anyone to obtain these, no, and admittedly he has done worse, but he can not ration with himself as the darker thoughts enter his head over how abnormal and monstrous this all truly is.

He feels as if he can barely recognize himself anymore, everything he knew simply snatched away as he stares through the looking-glass.

He mourns his humanity as he knows it and curses himself for the life he’s been given, no matter how dramatic that may seem. Everything has changed for the worst, he is an outsider in his own body. One that he can’t even see as he’s erased from any reflection. If he wants to stay alive he has to concede with blood bags, and he can barely bring himself to leave his room anymore. One that’s shrouded in darkness as he’s unable to be in the sunlight as the summer stretches on.

He finds himself missing his garden and while Gold Experience has taken to growing flowers themselves in an effort to cheer him up, it’s not the same. As time goes by, Giorno can only view the flowers and plants in their dimmer meanings.

Red Poppy may symbolize hope for a peaceful future, but Giorno registers it as a symbol of remembrance used to decorate graves. While Cypress can mean endurance, it can symbolize mourning just the same.

Marigold may mean strength and the light that lives inside of a person, but it too can symbolize grief and a connection between the dead and the living. He begins unconsciously growing them to bleaker meanings as his emotions run steady. Then parts of a Weeping Willow– another symbol of mourning– and Aspen Tree– lamentation, an expression of sorrow– grow.

Another change comes from how the others view and subsequently treat him after their newfound knowledge.

At first, they had remained partially sceptical as they only had Polnareff and Avdol words to take at face value. However, the brief moment Giorno had come out of his room had brought them all the proof as they saw not only his fangs but the way his reflection was gone from the living room mirror and the slight burn mark on his arm from where the curtain hadn’t closed fully to block the sun.

Narancia doesn’t let the news phase him, he practically forces himself into Giorno’s room to keep him company excitedly talking to him about anything he can think of and even asking for gardening tips to keep up with the backyard for him, at the same time he will ask questions regarding his Vampiric side that Giorno himself barely knows how to answer.

Sometimes Giorno finds himself playing along in brief moments of acceptance, but most of the time he goes silent, as it serves as a reminder of his lost humanity. Narancia seems to get the cues after a couple of days and is able to read Giorno better.

Fugo and Trish simply treat him as they have always done. To them, nothing has changed as Giorno is still theirs and they accept the transformation faster than Giorno ever could, which serves as a further shock. Fugo’s stricter on making sure Giorno has everything he needs, which means dropping off the blood bags as they work out a schedule of feeding-time.

Trish merely remains to keep him company, they don’t speak about what has happened as Trish can see Giorno needs more time which she will willingly give him, instead making her presence known and giving light pushes that she’s here whenever he’s ready.

Bucciarati flips back and forth between treating him as normal or as if he’s made of glass, but Giorno can tell he’s trying to restrain himself from that notion so as to not overwhelm Giorno. It’s something he deeply appreciates. There aren't enough words to express but he believes Bucciarati is his light throughout this all. His comfort and love remain steady the whole time and he manages to take everything in stride.

Giorno desperately hopes he’s not burning the man out- he fears of becoming to tiresome to care for and that one little action of his will have Bucciarati deeming him nothing more than a problem and call it quits. 

Abbacchio remains cold and distant, which is something Giorno hadn’t expected to change. Before, there had been only brief moments of understanding between the two, moments where Giorno thought they had a breakthrough, but whatever was there is gone as Abbacchio views him as untrustworthy once again. It had always sent pangs through Giorno seeing how warm the man freely was with the others, as he knew he would never be treated the same, but what could he expect? It’s always been that way with him.

Something has always been wrong with him to make others distant. He expects as time goes by the love the others have shown will rightfully fade.

All of this to say, Giorno had already anticipated most of their reactions, but there was one in particular that he had guessed wrong on, and now he feels as if someone snatched another part of his world from beneath him.

Mista’s colder than Abbacchio had ever been. Just like Bucciarati, Giorno had forgotten just how superstitious Mista was. Superstitions that had extended to Giorno himself as Mista can barely stand him. Anytime Giorno enters a room with them all, Mista will leave without a spare glance. It is much the same if Giorno tries to talk to him first, though he usually flinches and adverts his gaze, and if Giorno looks closely he can see a cross fastened to his neck. Any kindness and scarce words he forces himself to give are sacrificial.

The bigger sting comes when Giorno walks by Mista’s room and he sees various flowers and plants he knows the meaning of that cause him to freeze.

Mayflower, Anemone, and Blackthorn fastened to the door; Protection to ward off evil spirits. Juniper; Plant wood believed to be used to protect a family from vampires, which, if having gained entry, will weaken them. White Chrysanthemums; Mourning.

Giorno can only feel his breathing become slower as he takes in the meaning. It is just another reason to curse what has happened as he loses what he can consider his first best friend.

The other changes come as if his body acts as if the transformation hasn’t completed.

His body feels as if it constantly switching back and forth. He feels as if his skin is constantly crawling and burning. He’s constantly shaking and a sense of restlessness has made a permanent place to stay. He’s hungry more than anyone could have expected, though he keeps straining his body by going longer without blood. His body feels wrong in all senses of the word, just the way it had been days before Bucciarati found him mere hours after his fangs grew in. It causes his sleep to become agitated and meager as weird fever dreams and nightmares take its place, straining his body and limited emotions even more.

Everything is too much.

Even though his cynical mind tells him he should be, he’s not alone. While Abbacchio and Mista aren’t helpful, the other four remain a steady presence, which is how he finds himself curled up in Fugo’s arms as he sobs as the lack of sleep, unbearable hunger, and a nightmare takes its toll.

Fugo had been the only one still awake, his room is beneath Giorno’s and he knew from the thump of the ground and muffled cries that something was wrong and he didn’t hesitate to make his way up.

Fugo places the empty blood bag on the bedside table as he adjusts, smoothing a hand down Giorno’s back. “It’s okay, GioGio.”

Giorno shakes his head as he feels pathetic being seen this way, there’s always guilt whenever he tries to accept any given help, his mother and step-father’s remarks constantly echoing through his head. “I’m sorry.” He heaves and Fugo only shushes him whilst shaking his head.

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

The sobbing runs its course before long and leaves Giorno in an exhausted heap. Fugo keeps him in the embrace, his skin feels so cold and Fugo briefly worries before Giorno suddenly speaks.

“I want Mista.” Giorno whispers into the dark room, remembering how once again Mista had practically scrambled out of the room the minute Giorno walked into the dining room. He had refused to even look at him as he passed nor did he even acknowledge when Giorno called out to him this time. It's heart-wrenching. 

Fugo can only sigh, pulling him closer. It’s not that Giorno doesn’t like Fugo, he does, it’s just that he and Mista are the closest and have been that way since they had started teaming up together. So for Mista to be so cold to him and go as far as to leave anytime Giorno enters the room has got to be heartbreaking for the younger one.

“Why is he ignoring me? Is it because of this? Does he– Fugo, does he think I’m a monster? Is he scared of me?” Giorno starts asking the questions that had been running rampant in his head, any prim and proper filter leaving him as the lack of sleep weighs on his body. “Does he think I’m like my father? Does he think I’ll hurt him?”

“I can’t answer that.” Fugo whispers back, gripping his hand tightly. It’s true, he can’t. For the first time in forever, he doesn’t know what Mista is thinking or feeling, and it scares him just as much.

Giorno sighs and deflates in the hold. He knew he had asked the impossible as the only one who could ever answer that is the one who wouldn’t speak to him and can barely stand the sight of him.

“I want my humanity back.” He whispers into the dark room once again, not particularly looking for a response, as he’s aware Fugo can’t answer this either. Fugo only squeezes his hand, gazing at him apologetically.

“I can’t speak for Mista and Abbacchio, I know, but you have four other people here in your corner. We’re not leaving.”

It hurts. To Fugo, there’s nothing he can do that will help this situation besides being a steady presence. It stings because Fugo would do anything to take all of this away from him, but for now he can only hold him tight as Giorno buries his face in his neck.

-

It’s a nice night, Trish observes. It’s been a few more weeks since the transformation, and Giorno can’t say it’s been any better. He still hurts, his body still feels wrong, he’s high strung emotionally, and he wonders if he’s dramatic.

The two had decided to go on a walk after another rough night for Giorno. Trish had strong-held him into a sleepover just like they used to, though it had felt different without Mista. Giorno had been restless the whole night, constantly throwing his blankets off him and barely able to lie still for a second. Trish had thought the night air would help although he hasn’t said anything the whole time they’ve been out and Trish desperately misses the animal and plant facts he would always tell her in times like these.

She glances back at him, he looks haunted and sickly pale with dark circles underneath his eyes. His fangs poke out and his pajama’s hang loosely from his lithe figure. Has he lost weight? She can’t tell. Giorno doesn’t exactly talk much anymore, he’s stopped telling anyone what’s bothering him or what feels wrong. No matter how much they try to convince him he stays silent and looks right through them. Another heartbreaking notion.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Trish asks, turning fully to get a read on Giorno as she’s unable to take the silence and the dancing around the issue in general anymore.

“It would be selfish.” Is all Giorno says, keeping his face straight as they walk down the pathway of the forest. Trish pauses, raising an eyebrow, that wasn’t what she was expecting fully. She stares but Giorno doesn’t flinch, he still doesn’t turn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Giorno finally looks at her, the emptiness of his eyes has been haunting her since this has all started– he’s devoid of the usual spark that she’s grown so used to. Instead, he’s simply left a shell as he tries to scramble for landing through this whole mess. His lips curl into a soft smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes and only looks out of place.

“After knowing who your father was like, why do I have the right to complain to you?”

It almost feels like a cop-out in a way to Giorno, but what he says is true, although it’s only one of the reasons he’s stopped talking. It’s the same old thing repeatedly which feels useless to keep harping on to those around him, not only that but he feels weak and pathetic not having any control which takes a hit at his foundations he’s built to guard himself. He feels much too exposed.

“It’s not a fucking competition.” Giorno’s eyes widened at the barely held back fury in Trish’s voice, “I get what you’re saying but you can’t just shut me out because you have some fake notion that I don’t want to hear it after who my father turned out to be. We both have shit fathers who have done unspeakable harm. It’s even more of a reason I want you to talk to me because I can help. I know I can. I had all of you to lean on throughout, and that’s the most important thing. Let me be that for you. Let any of us be that for you.”

Giorno turns away once again.

He’s not getting any better, he’s only getting worse and it sends a flash of pain through Trish. It hurts to see the one you love go down a dark path and sink because they believe they can’t swim any longer.

“We love you, we don’t want to lose you.” Giorno freezes at the whisper though it only spurs Trish on more, “Lean on us, GioGio. We’re your family.”

Giorno takes a shuddering breath as Trish squeezes his arm gently. When she looks closer, she can see parts of the spark from before returning. He smiles softly, nodding his head.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t know if he did that for her or him but he doesn’t want to linger on it any longer.

Mista’s sitting on the porch steps when they walk back up the path. He’s looking up at the sky with a look of peace, though his gaze snaps towards them when he hears someone approaching. He freezes when he sees Giorno, the carefree expression he had whilst staring at the stars falls into an unreadable one.

Giorno stares back coolly, not even attempting to say anything as he’s given up. He has to force himself to detach himself from Mista to make it hurt less.

Trish had thought it was impossible for Giorno’s eyes to become even duller, Mista must see it too as his face scrunches to one of remorse although he still doesn’t say anything. Giorno takes it as a cue.

He wearily walks past Mista on the steps, while sure to keep his distance. Though his eyes manage to spark with barely concealed rage when Mista tenses as he goes by though he doesn’t call it out. Giorno slips inside, and both Mista and Trish jump when the door slams shut.

Trish levels him a glare, “I hope you’re happy.” She doesn’t dignify him with a longer response as she brushes past him. Narancia pops his head around the downstairs hallway, confused by the noise.

“GioGio okay? He kind of blew me off when I asked.” Trish blows past him.

Mista remains on the porch all the while. He doesn’t know why he acts this way towards his best friend, of all people. He shouldn’t be, he should be helping. It should be him soothing Giorno on rough days, it should be him calming him on rough nights, just like the way he had done before this. Though it’s suddenly changed and he can’t force himself too as all the superstitions and religious passages his mother had read to him roots itself deep within’ and he feels as if he can’t cut himself away from it.

He tried to not make it visible, as Polnareff had said, but anytime he tried to let himself get close he would always hear his mother snapping tone, and her loud sobs that he’s been lead astray. Then there was the loud static noise of his brain that was only ever heard when his mother would spend days or weeks of giving him the silent treatments or passive-aggressive remarks when he didn’t believe.

In the end, he had only done the complete opposite and ruined any trust Giorno had in him, and only hurt him more. Doesn’t that make him horrible?

He sighs heavily, pulling a cigarette from his pocket to light. His thoughts keep running rampant as he rightfully beats himself up.

‘Piece of shit.’

-

Giorno wants to leave.

No, not leave home. Everything. He wants to leave everything behind.

Simply speaking, he wants to be done with this all and merely rest.

Ironically, the Lily of the Valley flowers Gold Experience grew to make him happy only symbolize the very thing he wants. Death.

However, Gold Experience doesn’t agree as he stops any attempt. Stakes are thrown before he can pierce himself, silver is hidden, and the window is bound shut with vines before Giorno can open the curtains and slip out to the rooftop in the early morning sun.

All this to say, Giorno has to find another way which is aggravating, to say the least.

He sits in his room once again as he stares up at the ceiling. He tries to come up with logical ways to pull off an attempt to not only get around Gold Experience, but all of his housemates. Though it’s not as if he thinks they’ll care, at least that’s what he tries to tell himself– he’s desperately trying to convince himself to ease the burden in his chest. He tells himself he just doesn’t want any of them to find him like that. It wouldn’t be fair after everything they’ve done for him even if they’re better off without him.

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. Sparks of hunger flow through him as the empty bag of blood he dumped sits on his desk. He can’t bring himself to feed anymore. He knows he promised Bucciarati that he would take it seriously, but he feels horrible every time, and various thoughts of how his family perceives him flow through until he breaks. It’s sickeningly pathetic, and the guilt feels eternal.

He’s interrupted by his thoughts when his door creaks open, Narancia poking his head through with a bright smile on his face.

“Can I come in?” He asks, desperately hoping it’s a yes as he hasn’t seen Giorno in a while and his eyes light up when Giorno nods.

“Are you okay?” Narancia asks more quietly than his voice usually is. Giorno nods his head automatically, but Narancia sees right through him. “I’m serious, GioGio.”

Giorno sighs, “I actually slept last night. That’s a start.” He says absentmindedly, though it’s technically genuine. “How was school?” He turns the attention back to Narancia.

Narancia believes him, beginning to ramble away about his lessons and the people he has met as he paces around the room to dispel the extra energy. He pauses when he spots something gleaming in the corner of his eye. He creeps closer to the vanity and bends down to grab what he saw, Giorno doesn’t notice.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to have silver? Won’t it hurt you?” Narancia asks. He stands back up and holds out a necklace hidden behind the furniture. He thinks it’s Abbacchio’s.

Giorno remains silent, looking at Narancia with a devoid stare.

“GioGio?”

Giorno finally looks away and shrugs. “Bucciarati must have not noticed when he helped clear the room. I didn’t either.”

The room feels so cold, and Narancia doesn’t know what to make of that lie. He tilts his head as he stares at Giorno, trying to read through him.

Giorno stares back as if daring him to argue. The silence stretches before, shakily, Narancia pockets the necklace as he hurries to play this off.

“It’s fine, dude, I’ll remove it now. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt, Bucciarati would probably freak.”

Giorno scoffs lightly, as if Bucciarati would truly care, he tells himself. He has probably burned that man out by now, being as difficult as he’s been. He reasons no one should care though he doesn’t voice that out loud as he doesn’t want to hurt Narancia by saying that. He could never take the heartbroken look in his eyes.

Narancia doesn’t hear, as he still thinks to himself. Suddenly, he walks over to the boy on the bed and tugs him into a hug. Giorno’s eyes widen in surprise, nonetheless, he returns the hug and buries his face into the crook of Narancia’s neck. Neither of them say anything, content with one another.

It’s nearly too late before Giorno realizes his fangs have started to emerge more, the days of hunger finally getting to him, and briefly, Giorno lets his fangs scrape Narancia’s neck until he throws himself away from the haze at the last minute. He falls on the floor with a thump before he pulls himself up, stumbling as he practically throws himself against the wall to get distance between them.

Narancia stares confused before he reaches a hand up to his neck and feels the slight dots of blood coming from the minuscule scratches. It’s nothing too bad, but Giorno looks horrified with himself.

“Leave.” He breathes but Narancia argues, standing from the bed he tries to walk closer, but that only sends Giorno into a deeper panic. “Please.” He begs, eyes glistening with so much emotion Narancia hasn’t seen in weeks and it makes him tear up.

“GioGio, it’s okay! I’m not mad, you didn’t hurt me. Do you need to feed?”

Giorno gets the unsaid and lets out a dry heave, “No. No, that would hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Narancia tries to reason with him, “Giorno, if you need to feed, that’s okay. Are the blood bags not doing anything anymore? What can I do?” Giorno keeps shaking his head.

“What’s going on?”

Both boys go still, Giorno stares horrified at Bucciarati who stands in the doorway, confused and concerned.

Narancia turns to look back at Giorno but he turns his head to avoid eye contact and Narancia has to admit a defeat when he sees one. With a heavy sigh, he slips out of the room with Bucciarati, pulling him back into the hallway. Bruno looks deeply concerned over what they hide but his eyes widen when he sees the graze of the fangs and Narancia knows he can’t hide this.

Similarly, Giorno knows Narancia won’t be hiding this, and he comes to the conclusion that he needs to find a way to make a successful attempt on his life and quick.

Unconsciously, Gold Experience blooms Persimmon, Cistaceae, and Scabiosa.

‘Bury me amid nature’s beauty for my imminent death, as I have lost all.’

Chapter Text

It’s the calm before the storm.

At least, that’s what it feels like when Bruno calls everyone to the living room for an impromptu meeting. Everyone besides Giorno, that is. Of course, he had wanted to talk to Giorno himself after hearing the full story of what had happened with Narancia, but Giorno had been asleep against the wall when he entered, and Narancia had begged him not to wake him. Seeing just how much Giorno was lacking in sleep, Bruno had found himself relenting and instead had simply tucked him into bed and chose a different route.

Bruno and Narancia had decided to bring it up as a family meeting while Giorno was asleep. It almost feels dirty to do this to him- to talk behind his back while he’s vulnerable– but Bruno had viewed the meeting as a long time coming and believed that it might be better to have more plans of how to make this easier for the blonde put in place before they talk to Giorno.

Fugo stares in confusion as he takes in the explanation, “I dropped off the blood bag at the scheduled time, did he not feed on it?” He flips through the small journal with the timetable.

It had been the easiest way to keep Giorno fed, he found, as Giorno couldn’t bring himself to grab the bags on his own and Fugo was trying to see the intervals of when he needed them as his hunger seemed larger than how they had originally assumed. Almost as if his body was still in the transformation stage instead of actively settling.

“It was empty on his desk.” Narancia confirms, remembering how he had spotted the pouch when he had first walked in.

Fugo looks even more perplexed by that, though Bruno interrupts his train of thoughts. “We may need to up the intake. There’s a possibility he might not be getting enough, and that’s what caused this?”

No one has an answer.

Narancia shrugs, “He didn’t hurt me, hell he barely grazed me before he freaked out. I don’t even care if he wants to feed on me as long as I don’t turn into one…well,” He seems to be weighing the pros and cons of being a vampire before Fugo slaps him on the back of his head. “Dammit, Fugo! Anyway, there was only a little blood because his fangs are so sharp. I don’t see any harm in what happened, and he’s most likely beating himself up over it. I don’t want to make him feel worse or as if he’ll lose me over this.”

There’s a delicacy that has to come when handling this.

As the weeks stretched on, Giorno’s emotions became severely high strung and his thought process had gone into overdrive as it tried to grapple with this change and decipher over what kindness and comfort was real. It seemed as if anything could set him off, which seeing from such a stoic person is strange in all sense of the word though it only proved more heartbreaking when Giorno would try to hide it all from them as if he had been taught that way all his life.

It’s then that Narancia remembers the silver necklace in his pocket and he stiffens when he realizes that there’s another sensitive asset to be involved in all of this. One that he hadn’t told Bucciarati of. He makes a move to pull out the piece of jewelry from his skirt pocket to bring it up when another voice pipes up.

“Giovanna proved my point.” Everyone swings their heads to Abbacchio, who sits nonchalantly in the armchair with a nearly cold gaze. “How do we know we can even trust him anymore?” He pokes the bandage Narancia has on his neck as if proving his point as the dark-haired teen sits on the arm of the chair. Narancia glares whilst pulling away with a huff.

“Have you even been listening? It’s not as if Giorno did it on purpose and he constantly pulls himself away before he ever hurts one of us!” Trish comes to the absent member's defense right away. Although Abbacchio doesn’t focus on the continuous– nearly remarkable– self-restraint Giorno has shown.

“We can’t guarantee that! As I said before; one unexpected hunger spike, one moment of lost control, and he kills us. Why wait for him to do it first?”

There’s something unsaid in that final sentence that makes a minute for everyone to hear. Upon realization, the room goes deadly silent as a chill goes through the others. Unbelievable.

For a mere second, Abbacchio’s eyes widen and he goes to continue to speak, although no one knows which direction it will take. He doesn’t get the chance as he’s cut off when he crumples to the floor with a heavy thump. Mista stands over him, a pissed off expression evident as he had clocked him with his fist as hard as he could. Another unbelievable turn.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mista seethes, Bruno is quick to get between the two and force Mista back– although he is just as enraged towards his partner. “What did he do? From the moment he walked in you hated him! We put up with it because that’s generally just how you are and there were small breakthroughs where we thought you two had an understanding, but this? Wanting him dead? You’re so fucking lucky Giorno wasn’t here to hear that!”

“Like you’re one to talk!” Everyone turns to Fugo who’s stood from his spot on the couch, arms crossed with a look of outrage.

What right does he think he has? Out of anyone here there are three other names besides his own that he can name who have more of a right to defend Giorno than Mista does. He finds it hypocritical and insulting.

“Where have you been? Every night Giorno breaks down and you’re the top person he begs for, yet you are never there! He thinks you hate him! He constantly wonders what he’s done, why he made you leave, if you think he’ll hurt you, and if you view him as a monster. Your silence is enough of an answer and he’s internalized it!”

“I don’t hate him much less view him as a monster!” Mista cries out, looking hurt as he ignores his mother’s screaming voice about being a heretic in the back of his head. Fugo scoffs,

“Bullshit. Do you really think any of us believe that? In that case, you would have been here. What right do you think you have standing there defending him with a holier than thou attitude like you weren’t just a fraction of a reason for him worsening?”

Mista stutters before he turns to Trish to defend him, though the girl raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“What? It’s not like he’s wrong. You haven’t been there.”

“What the fuck? You’re supposed to be my best friend!”

“And you’re supposed to be Giorno’s too! This is about him, not you!”

Narancia covers his ears in the background as the arguing gets louder. He stares wide-eyed as he tries to think of a way to get them to calm down. The silver necklace in his pocket feels as if it’s burning a hole into his thigh the longer it goes unnoticed. Bruno calls something out that only proceeds to be drowned out in the fury.

“I am his best friend!” Even as he says it, Mista knows he doesn’t have a right. Fugo and Trish are both right. He doesn’t know why he’s trying to defend himself when he’s seen what he’s done.

“Then where have you been? Everyone but you and Abba are doing their parts. We expected Abba wouldn’t help him, but what about you? Let’s be honest here, Mista, if it wasn’t Bucciarati, then it was you who Giorno would have wanted the most. Yet, you refuse to comfort him, you either refuse or force yourself to talk to him, and you leave anytime he walks into the room, and for what? A superstition? He’s still Giorno! Nothing’s changed. He doesn’t deserve this treatment– like he’s a monster, like he’s his father, like he doesn’t belong, like he isn’t a family member! Get your head out of your ass!”

Trish takes a breath before her voice lowers into a cold tone, “You don’t get to act hurt after everything you’ve done. Do you think none of us have noticed any of this? That none of us have noticed the flowers on the door? That none of us know the meanings? Protection from an evil spirit? Mourning? You can’t just fool us by trying to step up at the last minute.”

Mista blanches, his face going stricken. She’s right, and he knows he doesn’t have a leg to stand on, even if he had been slowly trying to change his behavior it doesn’t undo the damage already dealt.

“That’s enough!” Bruno yells as he finally gets a word in, “This meeting is over! I want everyone to leave and cool off before any of you wake Giorno!”

A quiet padding of footsteps entering the room makes Bruno hang his head in defeat.

Giorno walks in cautiously, rubbing sleep from his eyes and pulling his bottom lip when it almost snags on his fangs again. He still looks pale and shaky. There's a painful hunger that still runs through him, and Giorno has to force away the terrifying thoughts of how much he wants blood- no matter whose. Giorno notices the tension in the room immediately and he can only stare at them all wearily.

“What’s going on?” He asks quietly, though the back of his mind tells him he already knows. He's cautious as he reverts to treading on thin ice, knowing that one wrong move or word can easily have him thrown out after who he's become.

“A game of Mario Kart gone wrong.” Bruno lies in a clipped tone although not unkind as he doesn’t want Giorno to believe he’s mad at him.

Giorno doesn’t quite believe him– the TV is off, after all. He turns to Abbacchio, taking in his bruised and bloodied nose, and the way the man has to hold himself up against the wall. When the two lock eyes, Giorno goes to question it but Abbacchio beats him to the punch.

“Got a controller thrown at me.”

Giorno nods slowly, albeit still suspiciously– there’s no controller on the floor. His mind gives a crescendoing chorus that he knows and they’re sparing his feelings. He feels as if he’s right when he locks eyes with Narancia, only for him to look away with a downcasted gaze on the floor as if it has more interest than Giorno. Though before anyone can say anything else to reassure him, Gold Experience appears to heal Abbacchio.

The room dips back into a tense silence, no one quite knowing what to say or do. How to continue, really. Before Giorno can become too suspicious and start his line of questioning again, he’s led out of the room by Fugo.

“It’s night. Let’s go for a car ride.” He rushes, guiding Giorno out. Narancia and Trish are close on their heels without a second thought.

Everyone’s eyes widen in surprise when Mista begins to follow them as well. Fugo turns enraged, ready to yell a stinging remark to get him to leave, though he falters when Giorno’s eyes light up. The blonde gives a bright smile at the turn of events, one Mista actually returns. Fugo lets out a huff when Trish motions for him to leave it be as they leave. He’ll do it for Giorno.

Bruno lets out a sigh once the door closes, rubbing at his temples as he begins to pace around the room. He’s desperately trying to hold onto his composure. He knows full well just how relied on he is, though he wonders if he’s doing everything right as it only seems they’re taking steps backwards instead of forwards. It’s not him giving up, but him trying to come up with another route as he wonders if there’s more resources they can get to help the process, to help Giorno.

Bruno freezes when he sees from the corner of his eye Abbacchio making a motion to leave. He turns back to him in an instance.

“Oh no, our talk is just beginning.” In one fell swoop, he drags the man upstairs to their bedroom.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bruno repeats Mista’s previous notion as he slams the door shut. He’ll worry about the hinges another day. Leone stumbles as Bruno practically throws him into the room. “There was something there left unsaid. I swear to God Leone if it is what I think it is. Did you forget he’s barely 15-years-old and scared?”

Abbacchio turns to his partner, taking in his barely held back rage. “I didn’t mean–”

“I don’t believe you.” Bruno says coldly as he walks closer. The two stand practically nose to nose as the tense atmosphere from the living room follows them in here as the common factor precedes in the room. Bruno looks the way he did in Passione whenever he was interrogating an enemy. “Do you want him dead?”

“Bruno.”

“Answer the fucking question, Leone.”

Abbacchio looks away in an instance as his body goes rigid. He actively thinks to himself, taking a deeper look into why he had said what he did in front of everyone and he wills the stronger emotions to not win in a cowardly way to defend himself when he knows that he can’t.

“No.” He finally says, turning back to Bruno.

Bruno scrutinizes him, leaning in closer to get a good look and Abbacchio feels his breathing start to slow as the two stare at each other.

It’s the truth. As Bruno would find.

“Then I advise you to pick your words carefully next time.” Bruno releases the grip he had on his arm and backs up. “It’s the bare minimum, after all. Luckily, of course, Giorno doesn’t know what you said, but don’t think for a moment he hasn’t noticed how cold you are with him, that he hasn’t internalised it as he has.”

When Abbacchio lightly scoffs, finding himself going on the defense, Bruno whirls back to him– eyes ablaze.

“You want to argue that he hasn’t? You wouldn’t know as you can barely spare him a glance, much less be there!”

Abbacchio tenses again, “Oh please, Mista–”

“You leave him out of this! He may not be innocent, but he’s still a teenager!” Bruno yells at him, stalking closer. “You’re 25-years-old and fighting with a 15-year-old! Hurting a 15-year-old!”

“I’m not hurting him!” Abbacchio tries to reason a defense he doesn’t have. This time Bruno scoffs.

“I know the unsaid. Before this, you may have not been physical, but you were emotionally and mentally hurting him!”

“I–” Abbacchio stutters, unsure of how to defend himself now as he’s right. Abbacchio not only hasn’t been there, for a reason he thought was logical, but even before this he hasn’t been the warmest in welcoming.

There had been a few breakthroughs, moments where everyone thought they were changing.

After all, it had been Abbacchio himself who had begged Bruno to at least try to talk to Giorno when they were all planning to leave Passione. He hadn’t wanted a 15-year-old to stay in the mafia, much less run it. He knew it was a part of Giorno’s dream, but that dream had crashed and burned when Giorno was viewed as an enemy and hunted down. Abbacchio hadn’t wanted that, and the final straw was when Giorno showed up to the apartment Abbacchio and Bruno were lying low in, drugged out of his mind and beaten up.

It was the moment that solidified his thoughts.

Yet, after that? He hadn’t exactly been someone to lean on like he was towards the others. To him, he viewed it as a bridge already burned, one that wouldn’t be worth saving as he assumed Giorno wouldn’t want it to be.

He had assumed that Giorno hadn’t wanted to be near him especially when going through a change as big as this one so he hadn’t stepped up in the slightest and compensated by passive-aggressive thoughts and words that he’s lucky Giorno hadn’t heard. In the end, he was blind to the way Giorno had felt the opposite.

So instead of even trying, he just gave up? It’s truly pathetic, he realizes.

Bruno becomes even more enraged at the stark silence. He sighs heavily, feeling as if he’s rapidly burning out, which he knows is something he can not afford in this instance. He decides to put some distance from this heavy conversation, it’ll be much better for them in the end to talk when their minds are clear and the room isn’t tense. Bruno goes towards their bed to gather his side.

“Where are you going?” Abbacchio snaps himself out of his thoughts.

“I’m sleeping on the couch!” Bruno seethes as he yanks on his blankets and grabs his pillows.

“Bruno, I don’t think–”

“I really do not give a shit about what you think right now,” Bruno sighs, desperately trying to compose himself. “We’re done talking for the night because I feel as if it’s only going to get worse from here. Emotions are running too high and we’re constantly putting ourselves on the defense, that won’t get us anywhere. We’re taking time to cool off, we’ll talk in the morning or later tomorrow night and go from there.”

And with that, Bruno storms out of the room. Abbacchio sits on the bed, replaying how much he has fucked up as he lets out a frustrated shout.

-

Mista and Giorno are the only ones in the car. There’s an awkward silence placed between them as neither knows what to say after weeks of radio silence between them to nobody’s fault besides Mista’s. The other three stand outside the fast-food restaurant, seemingly talking amongst each other, although Giorno has no clue what about he can wager a guess.

“Mista?” Giorno is the one who breaks the silence, turning slightly to the other. While Mista continues to look out the window, he gives a hum to let the younger know he’s listening– his thumb absentmindedly rubs the bruised side of his knuckles. Giorno notices. “What really happened?”

For the first time in a while, Mista finally looks at him. Something in his face softens as if he’s staring at the way Giorno was before. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, GioGio.” He uses his nickname too.

The sudden turn confuses Giorno, it almost makes him nervous in a way– as if there’s another shoe waiting to drop to take another drastic turn of treatment. As if he’s being lulled into a fake sense of security. Looking at Mista's neck, Giorno doesn't see his usually cross fixed and he glances at his pockets to see any outline of a stake or holy water bottle- though he doesn't know if he's hoping to find one or not. He feels hysterical and his heart clenches that he thinks that way of Mista, though it isn’t like it’s an unfounded thought after all he tries to reason.

When Giorno furrows his eyebrows about to argue, Mista pushes on. “I just wouldn’t go by Abbacchio for the time being. Let him cool off from what happened.” He waves dismissively, trying not to make a bigger deal out of it though the whole fight twists his stomach.

He thinks of each time he rushed past Giorno, each flinch he gave, the flowers he set up that he had seen his mom and the preacher do to cleanse a house. It makes him sick reflecting on it as he desperately tries to come up with how to make this up to Giorno– how to beg him for a semblance of forgiveness after what he’s done.

Mista turns back to the window, “I just don’t want him to hurt you.” He’s not aware he’s said that part of his thoughts out loud, but Giorno hears him anyway and his body goes rigid.

Mista may not know it, but he just gave Giorno an idea and a plan.

“Hey, GioGio?” Mista asks suddenly, gazing out at the night sky he stutters for a moment before he goes on. He has to. “I…I wanted to apologize for everything. For how distant I’ve been, I shouldn’t have been hurting you like that, and–”

Mista turns back to the blonde beside him, he desperately wants to get his apology clear but he falters when he sees Giorno has disassociated. Mista’s breath hitches, there’s so much he needs to say. He goes to reach out, only for the others to return and Giorno turns away.

Is he too late?

–

Bruno tosses and turns on the couch in frustration as he tries to fall asleep. The house is silent as the others have gone off to bed after Bruno had stayed up to wait for them to return.

Bruno desperately wants to follow in their footsteps of sleep himself, but his brain won’t shut itself off as it plays back how tough these past few months have been– all the hurt, changes, and adjustments everyone has been through. Furthermore, he tries to come up with new ways to ease the burdens for everyone in this house. It’s just the way he is– ever the worrier, always the one who wants to help because he fears what will happen if he isn’t.

It’s not as if he hates it by any means. He loves everyone here and knew he had to be a sense of stability when he met them all because he views it as the bare minimum when being a leader. He’s glad to be there, it not only used to provide a sense of normalcy to him but it helped the others grow as individuals as many of them learned how to trust again.

Even so, it may be a lot for one person to take on, but Bruno hadn’t expected things to be easy moving forward after everything with Diavolo.

He knew that when they not only chose but were permitted to leave Passione, that there were going to be a lot of pieces to pick up in the aftermath as everyone tried to grapple with a new normal. These were children and young adults who had thrived on violence and work as it was the only way to keep themselves alive. Now though, they don’t need to rely on it any longer which has got to be spiraling for them all.

Though that’s only a surface level issue at this point. It’s not even getting into all of what Giorno is going through himself, something Bruno truly couldn’t have expected. It hurts each day to see Giorno fluctuate and hate himself for something he can not control, something that isn’t his fault, yet he treats it as if it is.

He’s so young, they all are so young, and Bruno is desperate to help them all.

Bruno shifts again, kicking off his blanket. It’s the summer after all and the AC currently isn’t running. He begins to think of how to move forward as they’ve only been taking steps backwards. He thinks back to the conversation with Polnareff and Avdol. He wonders if there’s anyone else they can get into contact with to help, but is there really? Giorno’s a vampire. It’s not exactly something that’s common, which only makes resources and help more limited, but Bruno won’t know the answer unless he tries.

Bruno sighs, turning so that he’s facing the back of the couch. He’ll call the couple in the morning to explain and get their perspective on this. He nearly feels himself drifting off when suddenly he feels a light shake of his shoulder and he tenses. For a moment, he believes it’s Leone about to try and convince him to come back to bed and the anger from earlier starts to return as he turns back around. He falters immediately when he sees Giorno standing by the couch.

“What’s wrong?” He asks in concern, sitting himself up. Giorno only shakes his head though.

“Nothing. I just wanted to check on you, are…are you okay?” He asks, staring at him with concern. If there’s anything Giorno doesn’t want, it’s burning out Bucciarati by being a burden and tiresome to take care of.

He had seen how tense things had still been when they had come back. Abbacchio had been nowhere to be seen and Bruno had seemed just slightly irritated– not to mention he’s sleeping on the couch. All in all, it’s clear they had argued, and Giorno can wager a good guess on what that argument could have been about.

Bruno blanches, although his face is quick to soften. There’s not an easy way to play this off as Giorno will see right through him immediately, but nonetheless, he tries. “I’m fine, Coccinella, I just needed some space.”

He decides being partially honest is better than fully lying.

Giorno simply stares down at him in response as he analyzes him the way he always does, though ultimately he doesn’t dig deeper as he gives a brisk nod in response. He lingers, however, looking as if there’s something else he wants to say. Eventually, Giorno goes to speak, although he cuts himself off at the last minute– his voice crackling like a radio. Bruno tilts his head as he waits patiently.

“Can I stay?” Giorno finally whispers, his voice so small and unsure.

Bruno doesn’t even hesitate to nod as he scoots over to give Giorno space to lie down next to him. It’s not the most comfortable, but Bruno is used to nights like these anytime the others would fall asleep on him. Giorno curls up into his side, there’s a slight beat before he hugs him tight, hiding his face in the older man’s chest.

“Are you okay?” Bruno asks softly, smoothing a hand down Giorno’s back before he reaches for his abandoned blanket and wraps it around him– knowing how cold Giorno easily gets no matter the weather. Bruno feels his heart warm when he sees that Giorno is smiling. He nods,

“I just wanted you.”

The room dips back into a comfortable silence between the two as they lay there together. At some point, Bruno believes Giorno has fallen asleep as he’s drifting off himself, though he’s proven wrong when he hears a soft call of his name.

“Bucciarati?”

Bruno hums, running his fingers soothingly through the blonde’s hair.

“Thank you, for everything.”

Bruno opens his eyes, staring at Giorno. “You don’t have to thank me, you know I’ll always be here.”

While the two share a soft smile and Bruno presses a kiss to his forehead, Giorno can only feel guilt as he’s leading Bruno into a false sense of security. He just wanted one last moment with him.

–

Abbacchio sits at the kitchen table the next night, nursing a glass of wine as he thinks things through. He and Bruno hadn’t talked the entire day as Mista had demanded most of his partner’s attention. The two were upstairs for a while to the point Abbacchio had lost all courage to try to continue the talk from last night. Truly pathetic of him he can concede.

Instead, he was taking the time to truly think things over– how to apologize to Giorno, how to make things right, how to step up and be there the way Bruno consecutively is. All this time he had always found himself repeatedly making off-handed remarks about how they’re his kids and he shows that by making sure he’s within’ reach to the others to help when they need him. That needs to extend to Giorno as well, and Abbacchio needs to figure out a way to show he means it.

As Abbacchio places the glass down, he stares at the vase in the middle of the table. It still has the flowers Giorno had made for breakfast– a routine he has, each day different from the next, although it had been put on hold as Giorno barely left his room.

Butterfly Weed, Zinnia, and White Periwinkle are all the ones he recognizes. Abbacchio remembers how Bruno had complimented the arrangement, as Giorno had actually joined them for breakfast for the first time in a while. He remembers how Giorno had genuinely smiled, though he didn’t give the meanings the way he always does.

It was odd. Actually all of it was odd. The flowers, the joining them the whole day, sleeping next to Bruno and clinging to him as if he would disappear at a moment's notice, all of it. Abbacchio had tried not to look too deeply into it for everyone else's sake as their eyes had all lit up.

Deep down, however, it reminded him of something familiar, though it wasn’t anything he could put a finger on.

A soft padding of footsteps comes down the stairs and enters the room. When Abbacchio turns, he sees Giorno standing in the doorway looking incredibly disheveled; his hair sticks up wildly as if he’s ran his hands through them repeatedly, his eyes are puffy as if he’s been crying, his lip has dried blood from a cut as if his fangs had punctured or scratched him. There’s a certain look in his eyes that puts Abbacchio on the edge immediately.

“Do you need anything?” Abbacchio tries not to sound too gruff or intimidating, though he also tries to not act strangely or differently so as to not scare off Giorno. He simply acts nonchalant as he waits, in the meantime he reaches out to take a sip of his wine.

“Can you kill me?”

Abbacchio chokes on his wine at the faint response. He beats on his chest as he coughs harshly, trying to process what the fuck he just heard.

“What the fuck?” He sputters, swinging his head back to Giorno in an instant to see if this is a prank. The kid’s face stares at him seriously. His expression paired with his pale, sunken face and general hopelessness emitting from him is rather chilling. “Giorno–?”

“Can you kill me?” Giorno repeats with slight irritation lacing his voice although he almost looks hopeful in a way as he walks closer to the man. “It won’t mean anything as you don’t like me. If we make it look like a suicide, no one will believe it was you. It’s simple.”

Abbacchio sits there wide-eyed and stunned, and when he doesn’t respond, Giorno keeps going. He pulls something from his pajama pocket and when he places it on the table between the two, Abbacchio can only feel his horror grow as he sees it’s a carved wooden stake.

Where did he get that?

Why does he have that?

“Decapitation and burning of my body would work the best, but that wouldn’t look like a suicide. My death would come under question, and so would you. This would be easier. We go to the woods–”

Oh, God. He has a plan.

“Giorno.”

“You do the deed, make sure my body is dead, and leave me for mother nature–”

“Stop.”

“And you console Bucciarati and everyone else. Although I do not think I will be grieved much–”

“I said stop!” Abbacchio slams his fist on the table as he rises, the wine spilling all over the table cloth, and there’s a dripping noise as it spills from the table. He swipes the stake off in an instant, the wood making a pop noise as it clatters to the tiles. Giorno falls quiet. “Giorno, no. I’m not doing that, why would you even suggest that?!”

He went too far. Abbacchio went too far with what he said, what he left unsaid. He never meant it, never in a thousand years would he ever hurt any of these kids.

Giorno’s face is chilling but when he speaks again, Abbacchio nearly throws up.

“Every time I try to, Gold Experience stops me. There’s a better chance if you do it. Please, Abbacchio, I can’t do this anymore. You’re the only one I could ask.”

Abbacchio shakes his head, walking and turning to face the window as he desperately tries to calm himself and focus on the severity of the situation. He cups his mouth as he keeps trying to dry heave, his body jerking wildly.

Giorno tilts his head at the reaction before he walks closer. He rests his palms on Abbacchio’s arm, leaning slightly to look him in the eye, though Abbacchio can’t bear to look at him back.

“Please.” Giorno whispers again, his voice bordering on desperate. When Abbacchio looks back at him silently, Giorno’s face almost lights up with hope again– his eyes dazzling bright, and a ghost of a smile tugging at him. It’s absolutely heartbreaking.

“Kid, I’m not doing that. I would never hurt you.”

Giorno's face falls for a mere moment before he seals it, he shakes his head– that’s not what he wants to hear.

“This isn’t the answer, Giorno. I get this is a difficult change, but we can–" He chokes. He's not the proper person when the words feel as if they would be meaningless. After what he's done. The way he treated him. Though he's the adult, and he has to try. "...We can help you, we’re trying to help you. I’m so sorry I haven’t been there, I thought it would be easier if you had people you were comfortable around surrounding you as I have burnt numerous bridges but I was wrong. I was one of the people who made it worse and I am so sorry.”

Giorno’s face falls, barely being able to take what has been said all in. His mind rapidly spins as his plan falls apart and he desperately scrambles for the pieces, his face lighting with rage “Why? Why won’t you do this? You don’t like me, you never have, you should be jumping at this opportunity to get rid of me! Please, for the love of God, at least do this one thing for me! At least let me rest!”

He’s reduced to broken pleas that Abbacchio decides to let run its course. He turns back to the window as Giorno breaks down beside him– he keeps his arm in a tight grip. When Giorno sees his plans are getting nowhere, he lets out a howling scream before he collapses to the floor.

Abbacchio crouches down to his height, slowly bringing him into a hug as Giorno begins to hit his chest in pure broken rage. Leone lets him, trying to soothe him in the meantime, though Giorno keeps letting out piercing inhuman screams, growls, and, at certain points, what borders on bitten back hisses as he makes his anguish known and tries to break from the grip. Feral like an animal. It’s the most emotion Abbacchio has seen on him and it’s tearing him apart.

“Not fair, not fair, not fair.” Giorno sobs repeatedly in his grasp.

Fast footsteps come down the hall and the kitchen light turns on.

“What’s going on? Leone!” Bruno comes to a stop as he takes in the scene.

One of his youngest is on the floor screaming and hyperventilating in his partner’s grip. He goes to approach though he freezes when something from the corner of his eye grabs his attention– Bruno’s blood turns cold as he sees a wooden stake lying on the floor. He turns back to the two, a spark of anger flowing through him, but before he can assume the worst and believe Leone has lied and actually tried to hurt Giorno, he tunes into the screaming pleas Giorno is letting out.

“Please, just kill me, I can’t keep going! You can get away with it, it’s a perfect plan, why won’t you listen?”

Bruno’s jaw drops, and Abbacchio meets his gaze. “He had a whole plan, Bruno.” He practically whispers, still trying to wrap his head around it.

Giorno lets out a heavy sob and Abbacchio’s attention gets brought back to him when he sees the younger trying to claw at his own arms. He quickly restrain him by moving his arms, holding them firmly across his chest, and pressing his palms against his upper arms. Despite Giorno’s attempts to move them, Abbacchio keeps his palms pressed against Giorno’s hands to prevent him from doing so. It only serves to make his cries louder. His fangs snapping in the struggle, but never in an attempt to truly bite. 

Bruno crouches down next to the pair. He doesn’t even know what to say in retrospect. His attention shifts again when he sees Giorno’s nightshirt ride up and sees the burn marks on his stomach– evidence that he has used silver to hurt himself.

“Oh, God.” He chokes out, meaning to keep that to himself. His hand comes up to cover his mouth as he takes it all in. It’s only then that Giorno realizes that he’s entered the room. He goes deathly still in Abbacchio’s grip. He breathes heavily all while staring at Bruno with wide teary eyes that go heartbroken at the sight of him.

“Bucciarati.” He whispers in horror, his voice clogged and hoarse.

Giorno doesn’t know what to say. He had thought this would have worked but everything he had planned has gone down the drain in an instant and wasn’t as simple as he had thought.

“I–” He tries to speak, though he cuts himself off when he sees the barely concealed grave look in Bruno’s eyes. The guilt is unimaginable as it spreads through him viciously and Giorno can’t help but begin to cry once again.

Bruno leans over, he wipes the tears from Giorno’s cheeks and brushes back his wild hair as he steadies himself. “Follow my breathing, GioGio.” He encourages as he launches into a standard breathing exercise to help calm Giorno when he sees his breathing picking back up.

Giorno adverts his eyes, unable to look at Bucciarati any longer after how he hurt him. Instead, he gazes at the vase of flowers still sitting on the table.

Butterfly Weed, Zinnia and White Periwinkle. It was a way to give his final message in the only way he knew how.

‘Let me go. Thoughts of an absent friend. Memories and undying love.'

He didn’t tell anyone the meanings, although he had highlighted the flowers in the book he cherishes in case anyone had ever decided to check. Giorno didn’t even know why he had gone through all the effort when he had already believed they wouldn’t care. He believes it was a way to give them all consolation– maybe even to himself.

Giorno feels himself being picked up. Abbacchio and Bruno had shared a wordless conversation between each other as they decided to take this to their room as a way to protect Giorno’s privacy in case anyone else had woken up and decided to investigate. They both know too many people would overwhelm Giorno, especially with how horrified and sickened he looked when Bruno had entered.

Abbacchio hoists him up, making sure he has a steady grip before they make their way out of the kitchen.

He almost wants to curse when he casts a glance down the hall to the back bedrooms and sees Narancia standing there frozen, Trish slightly behind him. He can only wager a guess that Fugo and Mista had woken up as well. When Bruno and Abbacchio share another wordless conversation, Leone continues with the plan of getting Giorno to their bedroom as Bruno gives some soft reassurances to the now three- Fugo running down the hall from his bedroom right next to the living room to join- that they got this handled.

Giorno’s barely aware, too many thoughts going through his head as he begins to shake over how much he has fucked this up, he’s ruined everything. In his goal to not become a burden, he had done the exact opposite and ruined not only the limited progress they made but everyone’s hopes in him getting better. It sickens him deeply that he’s turned out like this.

Abbacchio smooths a hand down Giorno’s back when he begins shaking. He begins to rush up the stairs but he falters when he sees that Mista is standing by the railing, shaky and pale. Leone doesn’t get to say anything before Mista backs up and hides himself back into his room. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Abbacchio can’t help but curse how small this house is.

When Giorno comes back to himself, he finds himself back in Bucciarati’s arms, the man humming into his ear as he practically rocks him to help him further calm down.

Even more tears prick Giorno’s eyes. He can hardly believe that despite everything he is constantly treated with genuine love and care by this man and even then, always in return, does Giorno keep hurting him back. It’s not fair, and Giorno doesn’t understand why he hasn’t called it quits already.

“Are you back with me, GioGio?” Bruno whispers, and Giorno finds himself nodding back.

“Bucciarati, I’m–” Giorno heaves slightly, still shaking violently.

Bruno only shushes him, beginning to comb through his hair, “It’s okay, Caro mio. Take your time, don’t rush anything. I’ll be here just the same.” He smiles sadly at the boy in his arms, adjusting to pull him closer and Giorno is quick to grip him back.

Giorno listens as he takes some time to steady his breathing and shaking. Abbacchio watches from the other side of the room, putting some distance as to not overwhelm Giorno. Bruno solely comforts him in the meantime, going back to the steady humming– a technique he picked up from Abbacchio himself, who would always hum to Fugo on rough nights. After a while, Giorno melts into the embrace, only then does the shaking subside and his breathing has evened out significantly.

The panic doesn’t wear off fully as Giorno knows they will have to discuss this, he knows there’s not a way for him to deny anything or play it off and neither of the men are going to just let this go. It sparks terror in Giorno as he’s unsure of how this conversation will go, the voice in the back of his head tells him that there’s a good possibility that this will be Bruno’s final straw which only leads back to the guilt of becoming a burden and making a scene for this precise reason.

Giorno tenses when Bruno takes a deep breath. He tries to steady himself for this conversation and not give into the impulse to nervously bite his nails.

“How long have you felt this way?” Bruno asks, still in a gentle whisper. He hadn’t been able to see the signs.

Giorno sighs, “I don’t know. I had been spiraling for a while. I had been idolizing the idea of being able to rest but I believe it only went into that territory a week ago.” Giorno is slightly shocked at the honesty coming from him but in the end he thinks he needs to be, it will prove more beneficial that way.

“Did you feel like you couldn’t come to me?”

“I thought it would be better to not tell anyone. You guys were already doing so much, and simply speaking, I just wanted an escape. I didn’t think it would hurt you as I thought it would be the opposite, that you would be better off with me gone.” Giorno falls quiet. All the while he keeps his head down when he's unable to bear looking at either of them to see any type of reaction for his selfishness and hurtfulness. “I couldn’t handle all of these changes anymore and it only felt worse the longer time went on and the more everything shifted. I didn’t want to think of it anymore. I just wanted to rest.”

He shudders in the embrace, he feels the shaking begin to pick up again though Bruno just pulls him closer. Bruno nods to himself, taking in the start of an explanation.

“It was a thought process that was understandable for your mind to take in, you felt as if there was no other option. It’s common. However, I want you to feel as if you can come to me when you have such thoughts, you’re not bothering me. My priority is to keep you safe and help you, that was my goal the moment you joined me and the moment you decided to come with me when leaving Passione.”

Giorno wipes at his eyes, nodding to show he’s heard. “I’m sorry.” He whispers with a sniff.

Bruno shakes his head, “This isn’t anything to apologize for Giorno. When someone’s in this mindset they often don’t have control of themselves any longer. What helps is gathering support.”

Bruno thinks to himself whether he wants to continue the gentle questioning, in the end he believes he has to as he needs to get all the information he can to help. He makes sure Giorno is relatively calm before he continues, “Where did you get the silver?”

Giorno winces, “I stole Abbacchio’s necklace.” Abbacchio whips his head around in shock, unsure of what to say and Giorno stares at him apologetically. “Narancia had found it. I guess he didn’t get the chance to mention it or he believed me when I lied. I didn’t burn myself often just moments after I…” He goes silent. He refuses to elaborate even when both Bruno and Abbacchio give gentle pushes to try.

Abbacchio decides to proceed with a question of his own, the words Giorno had said earlier kept repeating in his head.

“You said Gold Experience always stopped any attempt, so this isn’t the first time, is it?”

He finds himself coming closer. He had been reminded of something familiar when seeing how Giorno had acted for most of the day; the switch up from hiding himself away to actively coming out, the clinging to Bruno throughout the day, the normalcy of his regular routine coming back. It was him making peace with a fate he had wanted so he had appeared normal because he knew he would be done with everything soon.

It was something Leone himself had done when he hit his rock bottom; he started going out more, he called his parents after cutting contact because he couldn’t face them, he felt lighter because it had been moments before he took the final drastic turn. Leone feels himself becoming even more guilty. That had been him yet he didn’t notice Giorno showing the same signs.

Giorno deflates even more. He looks nervous as he averts his gaze and unconsciously begins to bite his thumb nail. Bruno gently lowers his hand when he sees him nipping at the skin- not wanting his fangs to cause any more damage or sparking a habit. He cups his cheek lightly.

“You can say anything you want as long as it’s honest. No matter the answer, it won’t drive us away. We love you, Giorno, and we want to be able to help, that starts with being honest.”

Bruno sounds as if he’s practically begging, which only breaks Giorno’s heart again. He knows not to apologize again though because Bruno will brush it off as it won’t be what he wants so instead Giorno forces himself to continue being honest.

“It’s not the first time.” He confirms, he tries to continue but he chokes. He’s unable to go into further detail, and he feels his breathing pick up at the thought. Bruno doesn’t force him, all he needed was a semblance of an answer.

“You don’t need to continue, what you’ve said is enough.”

Giorno exhales in relief, “Thank you.” He croaks, the room dips back to silence as both men give Giorno some time to himself after the heavy questioning. Eventually, though, Giorno asks one himself– unable to hold back after it was constantly on his mind. “Bucciarati? Can I ask you something?”

He’s not actively trying to change the topic to get himself out of the spotlight but he wants to voice this out loud. Bruno gives a hum of recognition– having resumed combing through the blonde's hair. It’s the most affection Giorno has ever received although Bruno has never been one to hold back after he nearly lost them all, Giorno could never believe he was genuine and always found himself flinching away but now he’s found himself always accepting the warm affection, after all it was everything he ever wanted as a child and he can’t see himself letting it go.

“Why haven’t you given up? Every time I look at myself all I see is a monster like my father. How can you still love me through this?”

Giorno separates himself from the hold a little, he still keeps ahold of Bruno’s arms but he wants to be able to look at him and discern any type of lie or meaningless words said to spare him a harsh reality. Instead, Bruno only gazes at him warmly the way he always does.

“I never once changed how I looked at you. You’re not your father and I never saw you as a monster because you are the opposite of one. A monster doesn’t breathe beautiful life into things, a monster doesn’t heal even the smallest of injuries because he can’t stand those hurt, and a monster doesn’t go to hell and back to bring his friends back from their fate. But you do. Those are all things you do.”

Giorno stares in stunned silence though Bruno continues,

“There is nothing you can say or do that is going to change my mind on this. You can’t keep hurting yourself like this by putting words into our mouths about how you feel we perceive you. You have to look at our actions, intentions, and words as those are the truth. Everything that we’ve done so far is nothing short of honest, allow yourself to believe it– you deserve it.”

Giorno nods once more, the tears managing to fall again though he doesn’t hold back as he begins to weep. Bruno coos slightly, keeping Giorno close to him and soothing him all the while. Eventually, Giorno is reduced to an exhausted heap as he rests gently back in the embrace– listening to Bruno’s heartbeat to calm himself further. He feels his blinks becoming slower as his head starts to droop more, utter exhaustion kicking in after repeated sleepless nights and the events of the evening. Bruno notices.

“You’re staying with us for the night. We’ll talk more in the morning, for now, I just want you to rest, alright?”

Giorno hums, “You’ll be here the whole time? Both of you?” He finds himself asking and Bruno nods without any hesitation.

“We’ll be here. Just sleep, Coccinella.”

Giorno doesn’t need to be told again as he finds himself drifting off. Finding safety with those around. He’s barely aware of when Bruno lays them both down.

Leone lingers there awkwardly, unsure of where he fits in with all of this. Bruno notices and moves his head towards his partner’s side of the bed when he sees him making a motion towards the door.

“He asked both of us to stay.” Is all Bruno says.

Which Abbacchio had heard Giorno clearly ask, though it only served to confuse him more as he hasn’t exactly proven to be reliable in the slightest. Even tonight, most of the conversation had been led by Bruno. Abbacchio had only lingered. Though he’ll never find out the reason, to Giorno it had been him simply rationalizing it as not wanting Abbacchio to be alone for the rest of the night after what he put him through.

Leone doesn’t argue further with his mind as he settles down on the bed with them, Giorno laid between them.

Truthfully, nights like these aren’t uncommon– sharing a bed with any of the teenagers. It was unavoidable when they were staying in cramped hotel rooms during their week on the run from Diavolo and the even further subsequent hiding as they left the gang before the dust had settled. It’s the rough nights where someone is in need of comfort that isn’t uncommon; nightmares, anxiety, sickness, injury, so many reasons that will have anyone of them shoving their way in the middle of Bruno and Leone to demand their attention.

It’s quiet between them. The only sound is quiet breathing, the light summer breeze from outside, and the ticking of the clock on Leone’s bedside table, although he’s sure his thoughts have begun to outweigh the quietness.

Eventually, Leone forces himself to speak when he glances and sees that Bruno is still awake– practically burning a hole into the ceiling with his absent stare and if Leone looks close enough he can see outlines of dried tear tracks. It only serves to make his heart break once more, having been too stuck in his thoughts to notice.

“Bruno–” He cuts himself off, trying to think of a meaningful way to get this across. He looks back down at Giorno again. Bruno turns to him. “I’m sorry. You were right, the way I’ve been treating him hasn’t been right and I regret everything– especially how I made him feel.”

He decides to put focus back on Giorno, knowing that Bruno won’t accept it if it’s on himself at this moment.

Bruno sighs, nodding to himself. “As much as I don’t want to be, I’m still mad at you.” He whispers. “I know you have your own things to work through, I get that, but I see how you treat the others. You treat them the way I do– although you don’t coddle them, of course. You’ve been that way since Fugo opened up to you and everyone knows you are practically Narancia’s favorite. However, with Giorno, you’ve always been different in a way I can’t understand. I thought it was simply tough love, but now I’m unsure.”

He goes still for a second, thinking to himself and Leone gives him time.

“I can’t have that. I don’t want Giorno to feel as if he’s unwelcome in his own home. If you don’t want to be viewed in a similar way to a parental or guiding figure, then tell me. I won’t hold you to that standard– I never wanted you to feel forced as if I molded you into that. Admittedly we are both so young, it’s a lot of pressure especially when you have your own battles. I chose that role as I don’t mind having someone to take care of but you need to tell me if that’s not the same for you, so I know I will need to do this on my own.”

He’s given him an out, Leone realizes which only makes him breathe harshly. “I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll be here, I’ll start doing better. You haven’t forced me in the slightest, it had hurt seeing kids so young in a life such as the mafia I wanted to step up so they had reliance without you having to do it all yourself.”

“Then why did you treat him the way you did? I get that it may have started out as a ‘harmless’ prank, but it escalated, and I need to know why.”

Leone sighs, tugging at his hair lightly though both men go still when Giorno shifts in the bed. Leone grunts when the kid kicks out in his sleep and lands a good kick to his knee. It makes Bruno chuckle.

“Little shit.” He hisses, before he turns his attention back to his partner. “It sounds so pathetic but he reminded me too much of how I used to be in a way that stung. He came in with an aspiration I once held that failed in front of me, then when his dream crashed and burned in front of us all it had hurt to look. It was like looking into a mirror. I didn't step up as I viewed it as a bridge already burnt and that he wouldn’t trust me at that point."

He sighs quietly, but Bruno smiles for him to go on. Who is he to deny him?

"When he started his transformation, I distanced myself more because I thought it would be better if he had people he was comfortable with surrounding him and I was unsure how exactly I needed to act." He pauses. "...When he nearly hurt Narancia, I couldn’t find it in myself to think straight or focus on the self-restraint he showed. I don’t know why, but I compensated with aggressive remarks. It was wrong. I won’t be like that anymore, I’ll step up. Not just for you, but for him as well. He needs us, and I need to make this up to him.”

Bruno nods, taking it all in. “I appreciate the promise, although you’re going to apologize to him as well. As I said before, Leone, he noticed and he’s internalized it. If you want to move forward and be there, you need to apologize and be honest. Not only that, but it will be up to Giorno whether he feels comfortable with you.”

Leone nods in an instance, “I know. I was already trying to think of how to make this all right for him before–...before this.” His voice drops to a whisper. Bruno gives him a look akin to empathy, he reaches out to cup his partner’s cheek. Neither of them knows what to say exactly.

“We’ll be there.” Bruno says softly, “We’ll help him through this, show him that he’s loved.”

Leone nods, melting into the touch before he gazes back down at Giorno who has remained asleep despite the talking. He makes that promise, one he intends to hold no matter what. After everything that has happened, he deserves it.

When the room dips back into silence again, and Bruno begins drifting off, Leone has to break it once more as he feels he can’t leave this unsaid.

“I know you’re probably beating yourself up over not seeing the signs and you feel as if you’ve failed him, but just know, throughout this all you have always been his steady light no matter what. I’ve seen the way he leans on you, even unconsciously– he trusts you with his whole heart." Leone whispers. "You haven’t failed him in the slightest and he certainly doesn’t feel that way himself. Don’t focus on what you could have done, the signs are always hard to see. Just move forward and you’ll be alright. You’re perfect, Amore. They’re lucky to have you and you can always lean back on me.”

It comes out as a mere whisper despite the weight of it all. For a moment, Leone feels as if it’s not enough, as if there’s so much more to say and praise, but the smile Bruno gives him makes up for that belief.

Chapter Text

Abbacchio throws up in the bathroom.

It’s the morning already. The brightly shining sun peeking through the slip of the window boards feels inappropriate after a night like the one they had, though he concedes that the misty fog trying to keep it at bay makes up for it. Giorno and Bruno were still asleep when Leone had slipped out from the bed and rushed to the bathroom after the memories of last night came flooding back.

If he’s being honest, Leone had thought their lives would be relatively easy after moving on from the gang. It was a golden opportunity presented that Leone had desperately wanted for them all; it was a chance for normalcy. It was a hard feat to get to– everyone felt one way or another– but they finally got it and Leone had felt a rush of relief spread through him. 

Of course, there were still pieces everyone needed to pick up as they went through the motions of the aftermath and general trauma; Trish’s grief. His, Narancia’s, and Bruno’s chronic pain from their brief deaths and the aftermath of that. Giorno’s and Mista’s guilt for nearly losing three people they care for and almost being sole survivors, and then there was Fugo’s guilt for staying behind for an organization that was going to assume him a traitor anyway left to spy. The latter of which had only caused long-lasting injuries of torture.

There’s a plethora of nightmares for them all and he and Bruno were more relied on now than ever in what feels like a parental influence but it wasn’t like it was anything new. Leone had expected it all. 

They could easily deal with all of the above but then this– something that wasn’t even his fault– had happened to Giorno and Abbacchio can only curse his bastard of a father for this all. He prays those genes would have just stayed dormant for Giorno’s sake, to spare him from this, but it seems as if fate always plans to strike them down in the cruelest ways. Which brings them back to last night– the catalyst. 

Giorno had a whole plan.

No, Giorno had already tried to kill himself. 

The only reason he came to Abbacchio was because Gold Experience wouldn’t allow him to do it himself, which is why he came up with a backup plan to seek out a mercy kill. Not only that, but he was hurting himself all the while– the burns from the silver from a necklace Leone hadn’t even noticed was missing is stark evidence. None of them noticed, and it makes Leone sick. 

He leans over the toilet again, retching as he remembers the way Giorno had sobbed, the way he pleaded and screamed, the words he said.

‘It won’t mean anything as you don’t like me and if we make it look like a suicide no one will believe it was you. It’s simple.’

‘There’s a better chance if you do it.’

‘You should be jumping at this opportunity to get rid of me!’

They tear desperately at his soul in a way he can not stand. Though, he knows he doesn’t have the right to feel such a way, he never once stepped up for a simply pathetic reason. His cold and distant behavior was the reason Giorno had felt like he could ask him that request.

‘Can you kill me?’

Abbacchio is dragged out of his thoughts and sickness when the bathroom door creaks open. Briefly, he believes it’s Bruno until he looks up to see Giorno standing in the doorway staring at him full of remorse. He still looks shaky and pale– absolutely exhausted for someone of his age. 

“I’m sorry.” Giorno whispers, his voice sore from the screaming and crying from the night before. 

Abbacchio sighs, reaching to close and flush the toilet before he leans back against the tub. He steadies himself before he pats the spot next to him for Giorno to sit beside him. He does so without question.

“The only reason I’m not going to hold this against you is because you’re hurting. We’re going to let this go, okay?”

Giorno stares at him with nearly glistening eyes before he nods, “Good.” Abbacchio sighs, the room dipping into silence as Abbacchio thinks to himself. It’s not good enough.

Suddenly, Abbacchio lifts Giorno's head, gripping his chin lightly so that he’s looking him in the eyes, “I want you to listen to me.” He says sternly, not wanting to leave this unsaid.

“I’m never going to hurt you. You may be an annoying little shit, but you’re my kid just like the others, which means I’m going to protect you in any way I can. No matter what you do, I’m never going to leave you or the others, and I’m certainly going to help you through this. Do you understand?” Giorno nods again, sniffling lightly, and Abbacchio gives him a rare smile. “Even if you didn’t, I would repeat it for you.”

There’s a slight smile from Giorno, and the bathroom falls back into silence.

“I don’t hate you.” Abbacchio breaks, Giorno looks back up to him with an unreadable expression. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been treating you, but I don’t hate you. I never have. It was what I felt you had represented…it hit too close to home. The way I handled it was never right, it only served to hurt you without me even realizing the damage I was causing. I’m sorry Giorno– for all of it. Please don’t go on with that feeling that I made you internalize.” 

Giorno hums in acknowledgement, “Thank you.” He whispers genuinely. There’s another slight smile gracing his face before he unconsciously curls up closer to the older man. 

“Didn’t take you as one for affection.” Abbacchio teases lightly, not bothered by the sought out comfort that Giorno is looking for. He’s already used to it as Narancia clings to him all the time. Giorno shrugs,

“I’m cold.” He whispers, and Abbacchio furrows his eyebrows at the response. Seeing as it’s summer, it’s not cold out and the AC hasn’t been running recently. It’s then he notices how much the blonde has been shaking.

“Are you always cold?”

Giorno pauses briefly, hesitating on his response before he nods. Abbacchio hums as he thinks to himself. “We’ll find a way to help with that too.” He promises.

“What if you can’t help with everything?”

Abbacchio’s eyes widen at the sudden question– he feels put under the spot already, he didn’t expect Giorno to confide that fast. However, it’s not anything new he concedes. Each of them has opened up to him the minute the coldness emitting from him thawed. He’s had moments like this with Fugo and Narancia, he just has to view this as the same and change it to fit Giorno specifically. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t try. It’s all we can really do. Sometimes we’ll find an answer, other times we won’t. It’s just how life goes, but you have to trust us to try first.” 

Giorno sighs, looking slightly frustrated. “What if I’m just broken, though?”

It’s a thought he’s been having this whole time, although he could never voice it out loud, unsure of how to even explain the feeling. He doesn’t know why he voices it now, though maybe it’s a partial test; to see if what Abbacchio had said about staying is true or if it was just something said to him to make him feel better.

Giorno’s always been that way– cautious of any type of kindness shown to him, as he’s unsure if it’s real or if he’ll only prove to be a burden. The talk with Bucciarati from last night had helped, but it’s not that simple to break a foundation like the one he was forced to build for years.

A life of cruelty will always have you wondering if you can come back as a whole person afterwards or if you will remain pieces for the rest of your time. It’s a terrifying thought. One that Giorno doesn’t like as there’s so many things he desperately wants to allow himself to believe.

Abbacchio doesn’t see it that way as he gives him a look akin to scolding, “You’re not. It takes time, and it’s not broken to need extra accommodations as you heal and move forward. At least, that’s the way I see it.” 

Giorno rolls his eyes, the self-doubt still plagues him all this time. “This isn’t normal though, Abba.” He feels the need to remind. Throughout this all most of the others have treated it like it was such– to the confusion of Giorno, who could never accept the changes happening. Another cause of doubt as he can’t understand how they could accept it before he ever could.

“Why does it matter so much?” Giorno’s eyes widen at the gruff remark, having not expected to be questioned back. “It’s just us, what’s there to be ashamed of at this point? We were in a gang for Christ sake, you wanted to be a Mafia boss, not to mention we all have supernatural abilities already through our Stands. So why does it matter?” Abbacchio wonders if how he’s speaking is too harsh, but he’s trying to understand the thought process.

When Giorno doesn’t respond, he keeps going. “Look at it this way, Giorno. If this was any of us going through this– Trish, Bruno, Fugo, anyone, would you view them as a monster and believe it speaks more for their character?”

Giorno blanches, “Well, no–” He stutters, unsure of the point that Abbacchio is trying to make, although he interrupts him at the stutter to keep going.

“Okay. Then what makes you so different from the others?” He waits. 

Giorno expression wavers, trying to think of how much he wants to reveal but he knows Abbacchio won’t stop until he gets a semblance of an answer. He’s trying to help, Giorno reminds himself, trying not feel on edge or shut himself down as Abbacchio tries to get to the root of the problem. 

“I always have been.”

It’s what he settles on. It’s true however, he always has been different, as if something was so catastrophically wrong with him that no one could bear his existence.  His mother’s ignorance and absenteeism, his step-father’s abuse, kid’s his age found him weird due to his quiet nature and Japanese heritage, teachers and authorities never helped even with stark evidence. There was only one person in his life before the ones he has now that made it just slightly better– A mafioso who had granted him protection.

Even then he wasn’t the same as others, there was still something wrong with him that only the others could see. They acted like it was no longer there but it was all fake– they only did it out of threat, which he believes only hurt more that it had to take that to be treated kindly. 

Once the fear ran out, he simply went to being ignored– you can’t have your life be threatened if you ignore the problem and you don’t have to change your behavior and treat someone you view as below you with a semblance of respect and empathy if he’s simply not there.

Abbacchio hums. “Not with us. I don’t know how you grew up but it’s not the same as how we see you. I think you know that deep down and you have to let yourself believe that, it’s like what Bruno said; you can’t keep hurting yourself like this by putting words and thoughts into our mouths.”

Giorno doesn’t say anything, and Abbacchio tries another method.

“If it helps; view yourself as a different person in the meantime." He says it so simply. "When you beat yourself up, ask if you would do it to any of us. If the answers no, then try not to go down that path. I know it may be easier said than done but at least give it a try, okay? You learn real quick that the ones you love, love you back just as much and view you in a whole other light than you do yourself.” 

Giorno sits there stunned once again, the words try to settle yet his brain still pushes them away with another thought desperately on his mind. “What if you’re wrong though, I mean Mista–”

“Mista isn’t himself at the moment.” Abbacchio doesn’t let him continue down that path, “He has deeper problems affecting this, just as I did. Mista hasn’t been with us for long– about to be two years– he was the newest one before you and Trish, because of that he hasn’t opened up to us entirely about how he grew up because simply speaking he repressed it too much and focused on the job and how he viewed his age. He felt that he was too grown for help even if he was only 17. He’s starting to come to terms but it’s shown in the worst way. He still loves you, he’s just fighting with himself on how to act. It doesn’t make it right, no, and I’m not even saying you need to forgive him as you’ve been hurt, but just know it’s not truly you.”

Giorno hums in thought. He had always viewed Mista as the type to wear his heart on his sleeve and maybe on the surface level it is that way, but under that? Giorno can concede he never knew, but merely assumed. He lets the words settle themselves finally as he tries to make peace with what was said and internalize that instead.

While Abbacchio hesitates briefly, he wraps an arm around Giorno’s shoulder to pull him into a side-hug. “All of what I said– we’ll repeat it for you anytime you need that reminder.” There’s a feeling of relief and hope as Giorno smiles softly. 

Giorno’s still with him as Abbacchio brushes his teeth, his head rested on the bathroom counter as he sits on a stool and Abbacchio wonders if he fell back asleep.

“Did you feed yet?” Abbacchio breaks the peaceful silence. Giorno freezes slightly at the question though he shakes his head honestly, before Abbacchio can say anything more; the door creaks open as Bruno slips into the bathroom. 

“I was wondering where you two went.” He says with a slight smile before he reaches around Abbacchio for the various hair products lining the counter as he turns to Giorno, “Want me to do your hair?” Bruno acts as if everything is normal, though the three of them know the conversation following last night is far from over as there will need to be new rules put in place. 

Giorno nods, letting Bruno move the stool. It’s supposed to make him relax but Giorno freezes when he doesn’t see his reflection in the mirror once again– it’s not anything new but it serves as another punch to the chest as he feels his eyes well up with a new set of tears seeing as his emotions are still extremely high strung. Giorno desperately tries to cling to the words both of the men had said as a way to steady himself. He doesn’t notice both of them share a look of sympathy with one another before Bruno tries to soothe him once more. 

“I’m going to get him something to eat.” Abbacchio whispers in his partner’s ear. Bruno hastily nods as he puts more focus on his upset youngest. With that, Abbacchio silently slips out leaving the two alone.

“Do you want your normal hairstyle? You can walk me through the process!” Bruno tries to get Giorno’s mind off the non-reflection, hoping that the thought of his hair either way will lighten the mood although Giorno hasn’t been doing his hairstyle in weeks– the blonde hair lying limply over his shoulder.

Giorno shakes his head, “You can choose.” He whispers, just like that he can feel himself closing back down to how he’s been before, he wipes at his face as he takes a breath. Bruno can feel his heart break again seeing just how miserable his youngest looks.

Bruno deflates, his smile going strained though he tries to take it in stride. “Okay.” He says quietly. Grabbing a towel, he fills the other sink with warm water before bringing Giorno over. Gently tipping him back, he begins to wash his hair first to stall the sitting in front of the mirror and to help the tension leave Giorno's body– believing this will help.

Despite what Leone had said last night, Bruno still feels as if he’s failing Giorno in a way. He wonders if there was anything more he could have done to prevent this all– the empty look in Giorno’s eyes, his sickly pale completion, the burns, the general hopelessness that was emitting from him for weeks. He chastises himself for missing this all even if logically the signs were all silent.

Bruno’s brought away from those thoughts as Giorno lets out a soft yelp, his fangs snagging his bottom lip once again– a telling sign of hunger, Bruno realizes.

“When was the last time you fed?” Bruno asks gently, untangling his hair. The way he says it isn’t in an accusing tone but Giorno still freezes in his hold. It’s only then–by seeing him up close and holding him with a clear mind– that Bruno takes notice of how thin he is. His chest goes cold.

“Giorno?” 

Giorno knows that it’s over– that another thing has been laid out and Bruno knows everything now. He begins shaking as Bruno slowly sits him up, wrapping his hair with a towel so it won’t splatter on the floor. He crouches to Giorno’s height, looking at him seriously. 

“Giorno. When was the last time you fed?”

Bruno doesn’t let Giorno break eye contact, instead cupping his cheek to keep his gaze. Giorno blinks rapidly. Though, it’s not worth it to hide anymore.

“I don’t remember.” He says it so quietly.

Bruno’s grip on him loosens. He stares in shock. Palpable horror filling the small room as he tries to look for a response. Bruno's unsure of what he wants to say as he uncharacteristically stutters before going silent. He pulls back to cover his face before he slides to sit on the floor against the sink cupboard.

How much has he missed? Was he even there at all? He had thought Giorno had kept up with the feeding schedule the way that he had promised– Bruno remembers Giorno assuring him quite seriously that he wouldn’t stop eating no matter how he felt on the matter. Bruno had trusted that response as he knew Giorno wasn’t lying in that moment. 

The first few times they were getting used to it, Bruno would be in the room with Giorno to provide any type of comfort or presence– after that, Giorno had requested privacy with such a promise and Bruno had relented.

He hadn’t noticed that wasn’t the truth. He remembers that Giorno would come downstairs with the empty bags and it’s then that Bruno realizes Giorno had been dumping them or at least hiding some bags– maybe not all as to keep up an appearance and keep him alive but nearly most of them. 

Bruno knows now that he has failed him. He never noticed, none of them did, and he once again wonders if he’s enough. He tries to remain strong and pull himself together as Giorno is still in the room, however, he is horrified at the shaking and the tears that slip by as everything hits him. Unsurprisingly, Giorno notices as he lets out a startled cry.

The stool clatters as Giorno kneels next to him, “Bucciarati?” He asks, resting his palms on his arm. “I’m sorry, I–I’ll eat, I promise, I–”

He doesn’t know what to say, the guilt is coming back and the fog of emptiness that had come back for a short time is now clearing once again. Giorno scrambles, he doesn’t know how to make this right and he’s bordering of desperate as he softly shakes Bucciarati's arm to seek out a response.

“Please don’t throw me out.” He pleads, it only makes Bruno stiffle another cry that something like that was the first thought Giorno had. “ I’m sorry I kept it hidden, I’ll do better! Bucciarati, please!”

Bruno tugs him into a hug, hiding his face in the towel wrapped around Giorno’s head. Giorno clings to him back, he still lets out quiet pleas and apologies. Bruno hums in an attempt to calm them both down. This entire month has been hard on them all– especially Giorno– everyone has been on edge and an emotional wreck for one thing or another.

Throughout Bruno has been straining himself to take on the brunt of it all. Now though, as selfish as he may seem, now he just needs a moment. It must be something Giorno notices as he goes quiet. 

He stares at Bucciarati as much as he can, taking deep breaths to calm himself as he replays both Bucciarati’s and Abbacchio’s words they had repeatedly said to reassure him. His mind clears further as he realizes exactly how deep those words went– they weren’t meaningless comfort to calm him and spare his feelings, they weren’t just lectures that one feels that they have to give, they weren’t just empty promises. They were real. The care and the comfort was real.

It’s odd how you can suddenly realize it, but when you see someone feel deep pain for you, the guilt makes you realize that the stubbornness was simply that. Deep down he always knew but his brain had refused to see it as he was to stuck in it but now he realizes it as he tightens his grip on the hug, trying to give back an ounce of comfort to Bucciarati as he always done with them. 

“What can I do, Giorno?” Bruno whispers, “Let me make this clear, I’m not leaving you nor am I giving up, but what can I do to make this easier?” 

“I should have told you.” Giorno says softly, “I shouldn’t have hid it and I’m so sorry, Bucciarati.” 

Bruno gazes at him sadly, biting back a sigh before he nods. “You should have told me, yes, but we can’t go back. Now that I know, we can fix this, GioGio. However, you need to tell me what I can do that will make this easier for you. Take a minute, I want you to really think about it as we can not ignore this either. What will help?” 

Giorno falls quiet. He pushes past the guilt, the self-loathing, and the panic as he truly thinks. It’s a step forward, one he finds himself desperately wanting to make even with a long road ahead. Giorno swallows as he makes his decision before he can close back up. 

“Stay?” He mumbles, rushing to give some clarity. “When we first started with the pouches, you would stay in the room with me, whether that was to comfort me or you were doing your own thing. I think that should come back.” 

Bruno nods immediately, a flash of pride going through him. “I can do that. Absolutely. Is there anything else you feel would help?”

Giorno hums as he thinks, “Not…for now, at least. I’ll tell you if there’s any others, I promise– I swear I’ll keep it this time.”

Bruno smile says enough, “Thank you so much, Caro mio.” The warmness makes Giorno relax with relief, feeling lighter than before. 

It’s not long before Bruno pulls both of them up, setting Giorno back on the now picked up stool as he goes to continue with prepping his hair for the day. Giorno is once again surprised at how quick Bruno can move on at a moments notice but he knows that just like him, Bucciarati hold things back as he feels as if he needs to due to how relied on he is. Though, Giorno is happy he has Abbacchio to lean back on.

–

The others are already awake when Abbacchio comes down the stairs. 

They sit at the dining room table in pure silence, the room still bathed in darkness as the curtains remain shut. They all look as if they haven’t slept throughout the night with how pale and tired they look.

Their expressions vary– from guilt, horror, shock, and grief. The tablecloth is still stained with wine, the dumped over glass now moved to the sink. One glance over shows Abbacchio that the wooden stake is still in the corner on the floor– no one had the nerves to move it, they avoided any type of glance towards it. 

“Everyone alright?” Abbacchio starts as he begins to dig through the fridge. He makes a motion for Fugo to help him as it’s his turn with breakfast as he tries to keep a semblance of normalcy. Although the kid remains seated; staring off into space with nothing but pure horror emitting from him. Abbacchio sighs, there’s no point in trying to bring some normalcy, he can’t do it the way Bruno does and he can only see it backfiring in a tremendous way.

“I think we’re the wrong ones to ask.” Mista snorts humorlessly before his face falls back to one of guilt, his hands shaking and the nausea feeling he felt all night has returned.

Much like Fugo, Trish stares off into space; picking at her nail polish and seemingly not aware that he’s even entered the room. Meanwhile, Narancia’s head is down on the table– his body shaking violently with suppressed sobs. 

Abbacchio feels his heart ache at the state of them all. He closes the fridge as he joins them at the table, he doesn’t hesitate to pull Narancia up and into a tight embrace. No one teases him the way they always do. Fugo and Trish snap out of their daze, blinking rapidly as they turn to him.

“Giorno’s with Bruno right now. He’s alright.” He says gruffly. It doesn’t do much as they simply stare blankly– besides Narancia who’s face is hidden. Abbacchio runs his free hand through his messy hair. “I know that last night was…terrifying to say the least, but don’t feel like you have to hold your emotions back just as much. If you want to talk, then talk.”

He won’t make them, of course, but this is something on their minds and he’s not about to shut them down. The room remains silent, the only noise being the sound of a morning dove by the window and the ticking of the kitchen clock. For a minute, Abbacchio believes that they have decided not to talk for the time being but eventually as the clock ticks on someone breaks.

“What do we do now?” Trish asks, clearing her throat so it’s not a hoarse whisper. She truly doesn’t know what to do, any time she tried to think of something her mind got stuck. “He’s hit rock bottom, how do we bring him back? I don’t want to lose him.”

The others stare at her before looking back at Abbacchio, desperate for answers they don’t have and it’s times like these Abbacchio has to remind himself that he’s the adult– that they’ll always seek him out for guidance. 

“Keep doing what you have been. It wasn’t you that did anything wrong to set him off. Bruno and I talked with him and I feel like we’ve made a breakthrough– no matter how small. I’m stepping up–”

“Promise?” Fugo interrupts heatedly, he glares at Abbacchio with a fire in his eyes– though it wavers as it tries to stay in place. Abbacchio knows he means well, he wants reassurance that Abbacchio means it. So, he doesn't hesitate to nod in order to sooth him.

“Promise, kid.” Fugo’s glare doesn’t retreat entirely, “I’ve already apologized to Giorno to make amends…I’m sorry for what I said yesterday and I want you all to know I never meant it. I told Giorno this, but I’m never going to hurt any of you. Likewise, I’m sorry I left you all alone to deal with this. It won’t be that way anymore, I’m stepping up and I’m going to be here whether that’s entirely for Giorno or any of you regardless on the topic.”

Fugo stares at him, seemingly looking deep within’ him to see if he’s telling the truth. Abbacchio keeps his face open, allowing Fugo to find what he’s looking for. Eventually, Fugo nods before he relaxes back into the chair.

All this time Narancia has remained in the embrace provided by Abbacchio though he begins to shuffle in that hold. Abbacchio’s grip loosens as he believes Narancia is simply trying to get more comfortable the way he always does. He doesn’t notice Narancia reaching into his pajama pocket until he holds up Abbacchio’s missing necklace in front of his face.

“Giorno had this.” He mumbles. Abbacchio takes the jewellery from him, nodding.

“I know, he told us.”

Narancia deflates in relief hearing that, he takes a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, I was going to tell you guys but then everyone was arguing so I didn’t get the chance and then–” Abbacchio cuts him off gently,

“Not your fault, Nara. What matters the most is everything is out in the open now, we’ll move on from there.”

There’s a brief moment of quiet and Abbacchio turns to Mista to see if he has anything to say. Though he doesn’t make any eye contact with any of them. The look of guilt still plaguing his face even as he stares at the wine stain of the tablecloth. Everyone stares wide-eyed as Mista suddenly stands and rushes out the door– still in his sleepwear and barefoot as he walks quickly down the barren country road in an aimless direction, desperate for an escape.

Abbacchio stands, moving to set Narancia down to go after his oldest but he pauses, unsure of what to do. Giorno and Bruno are still waiting for him upstairs and if he leaves, he fears they’ll take it as a sign of not caring. Though, Mista leaving suddenly is another call for concern and Abbacchio knows that he will most likely need to be talked or reasoned with before he comes back home.

He doesn’t have to make a decision though as Fugo follows after him, looking strangely calm as he slips on his shoes and grabs Mista’s.

“Panna–” Abbacchio calls out, but Fugo waves him off.

“I got this.” Is all he says before the screen door slips shut and Fugo sprints down the dirt road. Abbacchio can only pray he won’t get a phone call that Fugo had beat up Mista.

He turns back to the other two, who are staring at him. He glances at the time and reasons that Bruno is probably done with Giorno’s hair. Abbacchio walks back into the kitchen to grab a blood pouch, 

“Do what you want for breakfast unless you want to wait for me to come back down or you want to go out. My cards in my wallet, keys are on the counter– Narancia, do not let Trish drive if you leave.” 

He turns, startled when Trish is standing right in front of him. The girls pushes items into his arms and when Abbacchio looks down he sees it’s Giorno’s favorite drink and snack among other breakfast items. 

“To wash the taste down.” She says, as she points to the pouch. “I don’t think he’s been eating well.” 

Abbacchio gives a nod of appreciation, before he exits. 

When he walks back into the bedroom, Bruno and Giorno exit the bathroom. He has a simple French braid done. Bruno having much practice with his own hair and Abbacchio’s. 

“Got you breakfast.” Abbacchio holds up the blood pouch, having set the other items down nearby. 

Giorno freezes, “Not hungry.” He says on command, the nerves coming back and beginning to get to him. 

Abbacchio raises an eyebrow and Bruno turns to look at him disapprovingly. “Giorno.” 

Giorno winces at the tone, pressing himself against the wall. He doesn’t know why he went back to being stubborn at this moment but there’s a panic gripping him reminding him of his abnormality as if the lack of mirror reflection wasn’t enough of a set off already. No one tells you about how quick of a step back you can take even if you had a moment of clarity. It’s frustrating for all involved, especially Giorno who wanted to make a step forward yet only deleted that progress as he takes one backwards. 

Bruno leans to him, “I’ll be here the whole time,” He reminds, “Both of us can be if that’s your wish, but you have to eat Giorno.”

Giorno shudders staring at the blood, his stomach growls and his fangs ache, only empathizing his hunger still he pushes it down with a shake of his head, his breath quickening. “I know, I know! Can’t we do this tomorrow, though? I’m really not hungry–!” 

There’s a hushed argument between the two, Bruno bordering on desperate as he tries to reassure Giorno it’s okay. Abbacchio watches in the background until he’s had enough. Walking closer, he tugs Giorno as gently as he can to a stop when he tries to rush past him and out of the room. The kid is too weak to fight fully back as his body still shakes and any rush of energy makes his vision spot.

Abbacchio maneuvers him until they’re on the bed and Giorno is practically on his lap before he reaches for the abandoned blood pouch. Giorno’s still trying to get away, as such he doesn’t see the movement, but as he tries to open his mouth to protest he’s met with the plastic film being placed between his teeth. He tries to turn his head to get it to dislodge, but that only makes his fangs graze the pouch and once the drops of blood begin to seep out, Giorno knows the fight is over as his hunger gets the best of him. 

“There we go.” Abbacchio leans back so Giorno can be more comfortable as he feeds. Bruno joins to sit on the bed and when Abbacchio looks up he’s only met with a glare. He raises an eyebrow in silent question.

“Do you really think that was necessary?” Bruno hisses quietly, and Abbacchio merely lifts Giorno’s bony arm as a visual answer.

“He’s lost a lot of weight. You know I never try to override their trust in me, but when it keeps them from hurting themselves we have to do what’s necessary. Getting him fed was the most important.”

Bruno huffs but doesn’t argue any further as ultimately he can reason with logic though he can already feel the incoming consequences.

The two make sure Giorno finishes the whole bag, only then does Abbacchio remove it– letting Bruno take it from him to throw in the wastebasket by the bed. Giorno leans back into him in a daze, finally having his hunger satisfied after weeks of stomach pains and constant weakness. Bruno wipes at his mouth and cheeks with a cloth to rid the excess blood. Just like that, when Giorno sees the blood-stained cloth removed the bliss he had felt runs completely cold as horror begins to rise within him. His jaw clicks as he swallows harshly.

“Bastard.” He chokes out, weakly hitting Abbacchio's arm. “I hate you.” The emotions run wild again as he hides his face to compose himself quickly, trying to reason it’s not a big deal and reminding himself the words Abbacchio had told him specifically for this. He hasn’t hurt anyone for this, no one died for this, it wasn’t taken without consent. He breaths deeply, telling himself he can do this– that he can calm himself down.

“Sorry, kid.” Abbacchio remedies, though he’s really not. He pulls Giorno closer however, taking it in stride knowing Giorno doesn’t mean anything he’s saying and that he’ll spend hours apologizing for such a small comment that’s not the worse that Abbacchio has heard. Bruno watches the bittersweet moment before he reaches for the bottle of juice and the other food on the bedside table.

“Here, Giorno.” He gets his attention as he passes the bottle, “That will get rid of the taste.”

Giorno glares at him half-heartedly before he nods quickly, reaching out to take the bottle and quickly washing down the taste. Bruno looks back down at the food Leone has brought and his face lights up one item in particular.

“GioGio,” He sing-songs lightly as he holds up the chocolate pudding cup, Giorno’s face easing up slightly at the treat.

The rest of breakfast is an easy notion, Giorno gets himself back under control quickly and he feels lighter in a sense. The horror was only brief and there was no guilt once he repeated a steady mantra to himself. In all senses of the word, Giorno feels better already. His mind feels clearer when there's no longer a sluggish feeling. He doesn't deal with constant negative emotions and thoughts, his body doesn’t ache anymore, there’s no dark spots in his vision and his shaking has died down. He feels the way he did before this. It's another sense of clarity that he desperately hopes stays. 

Giorno twirls the spoon slightly in his hand, he realizes quickly that having the drink and food on standby helped. It gives him an idea, one he goes to voice out loud though his voice crackles as he holds himself back at the last minute.

Oh, come on! Didn’t he just say there was a sense of clarity? It’s frustrating, he realizes, to constantly be second guessing himself the way he’s done since he was a toddler. Bucciarati and Abbacchio pause their quiet conversation to look towards him, the duo waiting although Giorno sighs in frustration.

“Hey, take a moment.” Bruno says softly.

“This will help.” Giorno says finally. Abbacchio looks confused but Bruno quickly understands and stares at him intently, motioning for him to continue. “Having something to wash it down, like the drink or the pudding. That will make it easier until I’m used to it more.”

Bruno nods with a bright smile, another small step forward. “We can absolutely do that.” A smile graces Giorno’s face to match his. 

The three of them find themselves relaxing afterwards. With Giorno himself dozing off as he tries to catch up on missed sleep though it ultimately traps Abbacchio as he’s still in the embrace– Abbacchio looking none to please as Bruno stifles his laughter quietly, nearly wishing he had a camera. As the quiet stretches on, the two men talk amongst each other. It’s still slightly awkward between them. Though Abbacchio is trying to make up for everything, not only for how he treated Giorno but for the way he had left his partner alone to deal with this all. 

Eventually the peaceful atmosphere comes to an end the moment Narancia pokes his head in. He holds the landline phone out to them with a sheepish smile.

“The neighbor was wondering– quote, unquote– if the two beaten up teenagers that are sitting on her couch after being brought in by her husband are yours?”

Abbacchio swears, cursing Fugo and Mista’s names before he gently moves Giorno to the other side of the bed as he stands– effectively awakening the boy– he’s quick to pull the phone from Narancia’s hand, stepping into the hallway. Bruno and Giorno look on in confusion. Though that doesn’t spur Narancia to explain as instead he simply sits himself on the spot Abbacchio had been in. 

Giorno looks at him nervously, eyeing the tiny bandage Narancia had forgotten to take off even though he’s sure the punctures from yesterday healed already. Giorno picks at the chips of nail polish that Trish had done a couple days ago. He goes to speak, but Narancia shoots him a glare– already knowing.

“No apologies!” He chirps loudly, poking Giorno’s arm in emphasis. Giorno closes his mouth. “You didn’t hurt me, and I was never mad or scared of you.” Giorno nods, taking his word for it, not wishing to argue again.

Just like yesterday, Narancia doesn’t hesitate to pull the younger one into a hug once again– Giorno tenses for a split second briefly panicking but eventually, as Narancia talks away he finds himself relaxing. Narancia merely wants to keep Giorno company and to further assure himself that he is okay.

He doesn’t ask about anything from last night or make any indication that he’s thinking of it though as begins to talk away with a topic he didn’t get to finish yesterday. He doesn’t even say anything when Giorno’s blinks start to become slower before he once again dozes off into sleep. It’s not long before Narancia himself joins– having stayed up for most of the night in Trish’s room with her and Fugo in pure utter silence. 

Bruno watches as the two boys drift off into sleep, not wanting to interrupt their little moment together. Once their breathing evens out, he quietly slips from the room to give himself a moment. Thankfully, his departure didn’t wake either of them as the exhaustion overwhelms them.

The house is quiet as he walks through it, the only unaccounted member being Trish who in a haze has been forgotten as Bruno makes his way out to the back porch to sit himself on the swing in silence. He doesn’t cry even though he feels like doing so as the stress of everything hits in a private moment, instead he stares off at the nearly overgrown garden and tries to clear his mind. 

He doesn’t say anything when the screen door closes behind him and the swing moves as Trish comes out to sit besides him. She doesn’t say anything either, merely passes him a plate of croissants and a cup of coffee she prepared for breakfast. She rests her head on his shoulder and stares out with him at the garden. Eventually, there’s a soft whisper of–

“You’re doing great.”

-

Weeks stretch on and things begin to look up. 

Giorno stays in Bucciarati’s and Abbacchio’s room for the time being– feeling nervous at the thoughts that would appear when he tried to sleep alone in his own room. He sleeps easier now, the restless feeling is slightly still there but it often comes and goes. Most of the time he’s on a spare cot Bruno had dragged up although there are times Abbacchio will wake up at odd hours in the night at the movement of the shaking bed and find Giorno curling up between them on rough nights– clinging to Bruno.

Abbacchio has to humorously send his thoughts as his partner will feel exactly how he did when Narancia wouldn’t leave his side for months after their move. Though, he just hopes it doesn’t go into separation anxiety territory like Narancia had.

The habits Giorno experiences start to disappear as he begins to take care of himself more and finally allow himself to settle with this transformation. He starts to come back out to common rooms with everyone. He begins eating more, this time following the schedule Fugo has laid out once he had made sure that it wasn’t too much.

He can even bring himself to grab the pouches himself in some moments.

Someone will always be in the room with him as he feeds, at first it was just Bruno or Abbacchio– him and Giorno becoming closer– before eventually he felt comfortable with the others. Surprisingly even Mista will come in with the pouches at the scheduled time when the others are out or busy. 

It’s still tense between them. Mista behavior has changed quite a bit, but Giorno can’t help but be weary– maybe even angry– to the point he finds himself ignoring the attempts the older boy gives at conversation. Mista doesn’t let it deter him, though he doesn’t push too far. It will be up to Giorno how to proceed forward, he knows, so for the time being he takes what he can get and shows that he is genuine. 

Though like everything, it’s not cut and dry as steps forwards can equally come with steps back. It’s simply the brutal truth.

There are moments where Giorno reverts and closes himself back down; moments where he locks himself away in his room or refuses to talk to anyone; moments where he forgets to eat or struggles to do so– sometimes it will take hours of trying to convince him. There are still moments where Giorno finds himself wanting for silver though Abbacchio is real quick to swoop in to hide anymore when Gold Experience comes to him one night holding items Giorno had tried to grab. 

They’re moments that don’t last for long and they are ones that everyone had expected– they had their fair shares of experiences like this, they know how difficult it can be. As long as they remain a steady presence and Giorno has the determination, they believe he’ll be fine as time goes on.

-

“Bucciarati!”

Bruno throws himself out of the kitchen at Giorno’s uncharacteristic yell, thoughts racing through his head as he thinks the worst– the last couple of days being not the best. 

It’s only the two of them home as the others had all gone out shopping. Bruno refused to go when he happened to see how Giorno’s face had dropped as the others discussed their plans before he walked in for breakfast. He was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to go and he had tried not to show the stinging pain he felt as he slipped back on the emotionless mask. 

Bruno had noticed, however, he always does. As such he decided it could be a ‘Giorno-Bruno day’ seeing as he had been holed up in his office more this week whilst the others had spent time with Giorno or he had simply occupied himself. The minute the others had left Bruno had been quick to turn to Giorno to ask what he wanted to do. It’s how he finds himself cooking popcorn in the kitchen as Giorno wanted to watch their favorite movies together. 

He pauses when he finds Giorno standing in front of the hallway mirror, running his fingertips lightly over the hairstyle Bruno had done for him today– a simple, single style dutch braid. He’s smiling, not the small, barely there ones he’s been giving, but his bright smile Bruno hasn’t seen in a while. 

“What is it?” 

Bruno stands behind him and Giorno frantically points to the mirror when Bruno follows his direction his eyes widen at Giorno’s reflection clear as day in the mirror. He blanches.

Giorno, however, looks so happy. Happiness that Bruno has been craving to see since this has all started. He freezes when he feels a pang go through his chest as he worries Giorno will take this as a notion of being healed even though it’s a strange happening. He braces himself when Giorno goes to speak but instead he’s shocked when Giorno continues taking in the sight of his hair.

“I love it.” He whispers, his eyes glimmering. 

Giorno hadn’t wanted Bruno to explain the styles when Bruno had been caring for his hair, instead gazing blankly at a book to avoid the mirror.

“You’re beautiful, Coccinella.” Bruno praises gently, a smile brightening his face as the tight worry in his chest fades, though he mourns not being able to do his hair anymore– none of the others let him very often. Giorno matches the smile as he hears his term of endearment. Ladybug is the one Bruno uses for him and only him. “Come on, I want to see the movie you were talking about.” 

Giorno disappears shortly through the second movie, Bruno doesn’t question it until Giorno comes back with all of his hair supplies. He wordlessly spreads them out on the coffee table before he turns back to Bruno with an expression of anxious glee. 

“Were you still wanting to learn my style?” He asks, his face slipping more nervous by the minute as he questions if Bucciarati had been honest about wanting to learn or if it was simply something thrown out to cheer him up and distract him from the morning aftermath.

The nerves disperse when Bucciarati is immediately nodding. 

It’s moments like these that make Bruno glad of the choice they made. The atmosphere is peaceful as Giorno walks him through the steps for Victory Curls. Neither of them notice when the movie ends nor when the others come back. It’s not until a camera goes off courtesy of Trish and when Fugo leans over the couch to whisper in Giorno’s ear a teasing warning.

“Between you and me; be careful when you give him bobby pins, last time I let him do my hair, he stabbed me in the eye.” 

He walks away like he didn’t say the most horrifying thing. Bruno can only tilt his head at the look of pure terror Giorno has when he slowly turns back to him.

–

Abbacchio slips off the glove as he gently holds Giorno’s arm over the porch railing and into the sunlight.

He watches intently in case he needs to pull Giorno’s arm back quickly at any evidence of a beginning burn. Gold Experience hovers worriedly beside them and there’s a backup first aid kit that sits on the porch swing behind them. 

After Giorno’s reflection had come back, the boy had wanted to test going out in the sun again rather immediately– desperately hoping it would bring the same results as the mirror. He had missed his garden and the sunlight. While Bruno and Abbacchio shared the same sentiment they were hesitant at first as this can prove more harmful than the result of the mirror. They gave it a couple of days to prepare, though they to had hoped it would yield the same results.

Abbacchio had taken over the plan when the others were gone– Fugo and Bruno were out grocery shopping, Narancia and Trish were at school, and Mista was out of town visiting someone. It was Abbacchio’s day off and he had reasoned it would be a good chance to test once he got Bruno’s permission and feedback. 

Giorno stands beside him– buzzing in excitement– he’s covered in Abbacchio’s coat and a large sun hat the man found in the closet that no one remembers who it belongs too, his hands are covered in gloves and he adorns Fugo’s sunglasses. It may be overkill, but Abbacchio didn’t want to take any chances of him being badly burned.

The two hold their breath as they wait, though, after a couple of minutes Giorno’s skin remains fine– no redness or burn. His skin acts as it had before his transformation.

Giorno looks so damn happy, the smile on his face and bright eyes saying it all. A sentiment Gold Experience also agrees with as they hug their user. It makes Abbacchio have a small smile himself.

“It looks like you’re good to go, kid.”

Giorno practically rips off the rest of the gear, hesitantly stepping fully out from under the yawning of the porch and when the results remain unchanged, he’s quick to rush further into the garden. 

Abbacchio goes to sit on the porch swing, having brought a book with him. Though that plan doesn’t happen as Giorno comes bounding back up the steps and tugs on his arm. He tries to practically drag Abbacchio into the garden with him and Abbacchio huffs lightly, understanding what Giorno wants.

“I don’t know shit about gardening.” Giorno’s not deterred as he stares intently at him. Abbacchio’s embarrassed about how fast he concedes– fearing he’s gone soft. “You can’t complain if I mess anything up.” He believes the smile Giorno gives makes it worth it.

Admittedly, he’s not much help. He simply watches as Giorno fixes the flower beds. Abbacchio just takes the weeds Giorno digs up and places them in the basket that he had brought. 

Giorno gazes at the flowers, thinking to himself, and Abbacchio watches along.

“I missed this.” He muses, unaware that he even thought that. Giorno turns with a look of confusion, although he doesn’t verbally question him. “The bouquets, the little routine you do when you bring them in for breakfast, they’re nice. I missed it. Hearing about their meanings too. The ones you brought in a few weeks ago– what did they mean?”

“I don’t–” Giorno whispers before he cuts himself off. If Abbacchio looks closely, he can see slight shaking in his frame. He guesses they were some kind of goodbye message. He’s not about to force the kid to talk about it.

“You don’t want to say? That’s okay,” He says as they begin to walk further within the garden, they come to a stop below a tree as Giorno thinks about the next flower bed. “What about these ones?” Abbacchio points upwards to the flowers blooming on the tree. It makes the tense feeling leave Giorno’s body. He follows Abbacchio’s direction and hums to himself as he thinks– mentally flipping through his mind.

“It’s a Magnolia tree.” He says, the two begin to walk down the path again. “Large Magnolia blooms symbolize perseverance because they are the earliest known flowering plants. Different shades have different meanings– white for purity and perfection, yellow for sun and positivity, purple for good luck, green for health, and pink for youth and joy. They’re very versatile.” 

Abbacchio nods, Giorno looks around the pathway. “What’s your favorite flower?” It’s a question that makes him sound so young and is a stark reminder he is only a teenager.

“Lavender and Bluebells…yours?”

Giorno hums, the two settling themselves at the bed of Dahlia’s. He thinks to himself. “There’s to many, Cherry Blossoms remind me of where I was born and Dandelions might not count but I like their simplicity and their change. Daisies are nice as well, they’re one of my birth flowers.” 

“Didn’t know months had flowers.”

“They do. My other one is Sweet Pea. Yours are Daffodils and Jonquils, Bucciarati’s are Asters and Morning Glories.”

Abbacchio hums, listening along which he finds surprising because anytime Fugo tried something like this, Abbacchio would fall asleep. 

“Narancia; Lily of the Valley and Hawthorn, Trish; Rose and Honeysuckle.” He’s mostly saying it to himself, though Abbacchio still listens. “Fugo; Violet and Iris.”

“And Mista?”

Giorno goes silent and the summer breeze begins to kick in as the trees ruffles and rains down more petals of Magnolia behind them. Abbacchio can’t blame him. “You have to talk to him, eventually.”

“You said I don’t have to forgive him.” Giorno says matter-of-factly, as he checks over the Dahlias and removes the weeds growing. Abbacchio curses his past self.

“I did. Ultimately, that is your choice but if it means anything in the slightest; he’s trying to make this up to you. He knows he was wrong and he’ll do anything to atone. That’s all I’ll say, besides that it may be a final consolation to you to talk to him. Take your time, though, if you want to make him sweat a little about it, no one will blame you.”

Giorno shrugs with a sigh, “It hurts though. At least with you, you were only cold and distant.” Abbacchio has to fight back a wince. “Mista flinched anytime I walked into the room and placed flowers as if he was mourning me when I was right in front of him. It hurt so bad, losing someone who was admittedly my first friend.”

Abbacchio nods, “I know, which is why I’m saying this can be a consolation to you because you can hear what his intent was and why he behaved that way. Like I said in the bathroom, it wasn’t truly you– it was like someone else was speaking and making decisions for him and the only way he could avoid that was by avoiding you. It doesn’t make it right, not at all, but there’s an explanation that might be better to hear fully so that you have everything presented to you before you make a decision if you want to move on from him for good. Does that make sense?”

Giorno doesn’t answer at first, seemingly thinking to himself as he stares off into space. The nod he gives is barely visible, though there’s a newfound glint in his eyes that suggests he’s taking it to heart. They end the discussion right there. Abbacchio has nothing else to add– merely wanting to provide a simple push in a helpful direction and Giorno will have to think on how he wants to move forward.

It’s peaceful. Giorno moves on to another flower bed, Abbacchio asks for their meaning– Sunflowers; adoration, Trish’s favorites– which in turn goes into a talk about the others favorite flowers. 

Eventually, Abbacchio hears the car pull into the driveway as he’s sat reading on the grass. Immediately, Narancia’s voice carries through the garden from the other side of the house as he yells a greeting to Mista who’s come back. Abbacchio stands, casting a glance to Giorno who looks like he has no intention to come inside any time soon– staring at Abbacchio as if he will lose his shit if asked. Abbacchio huffs out a laugh.

“I’m going to make sure Bruno doesn’t burn down my kitchen with dinner. You come get us if you need anything.” 

Giorno lights up with a nod, immediately going back to the Freesia’s. Abbacchio starts to walk away when he hears an answer to a previous question.

“Holly and Narcissus.”

Abbacchio raises an eyebrow when he turns.

“December’s birth flowers. That’s what Mista has. He doesn’t have a favorite flower, though.”

Something else is said in the undertones of that, but whatever it is Giorno keeps it to himself. Abbacchio gives a small smile before walking back to the porch to enter the house. The back door leads right to the kitchen. Bruno’s already there with the groceries, and he barely blinks before handing a bag to Leone.

“Narancia was supposed to help, but he picked a card game over that.”

Leone laughs, “Just yell at him and he’ll help. I do it all the time.”

Bruno rolls his eyes in good nature. The two work around each other easily. Before long, Bruno leans on the counter with a cookbook in hand– he nearly wants to go out to eat but doesn’t know how Giorno will feel. Which reminds him that he hasn’t seen the blonde since he’s left.

“Where’s Giorno?” He asks, grabbing the ingredients for dinner as he hears the others shout from the living room over their card game.

“Refusing to come back inside.” Abbacchio replies, grabbing the utensils. Bruno goes still before turning to him with wide-eyes.

“He’s able to be in the sun now?” He whispers excitedly. 

“Oh no, he’s a pile of ash in the grass.” Abbacchio has to dodge the hit of a wooden spoon. “He’s able to go back out.” He confirms. 

There’s a rush of relief that Bruno feels upon hearing the news. Although, both of the men are confused over these new changes. They don’t believe the transformation is reversing seeing as the fangs are still there and Giorno still needs blood; though now that they think to themselves, it’s not as frequent as it has been. It’s strange–the whole thing– though they decide to take it in stride as to not rain on Giorno’s parade and because Avdol and Polnareff are due for another visit, which may help grant some answers.

– 

Giorno spends a majority of his time in his garden during the following weeks, making it hard for anyone to get him to come back inside for the night– sometimes they'll even find him asleep on the porch swing. Tonight proves no different when Abbacchio leans against the porch railing, counting down the time as Giorno sits in the setting sun planting more flower seeds.

Abbacchio turns when he hears the backdoor open. Mista and Narancia come bounding out, and immediately Abbacchio zones in on the sleeping bags they hold. 

“What do you have there?” He asks and the two smile nervously while avoiding his gaze. “You know can’t just sleep outside, right?”

“It’s summer!” Narancia retorts, and Abbacchio swears he hears Mista mutter ‘helicopter parent’ under his breath. 

Mista smirks as he looks past him, “Are you really going to force him back inside?” He motions to Giorno. The two engage in a staring contest before Abbacchio concedes– he has to prove the helicopter parent comment wrong, after all, though it’s a fenced in backyard and many do not know where they live, much less that they’re in the country side.

“You better not be fucking loud tonight.” 

Narancia cheers, automatically running past him to Giorno. Mista lingers, however, the two haven’t exactly talked since the family meeting. 

“I don’t…think I ever apologize for punching you.” He says sheepishly, though Abbacchio can see right through him.

“Cut the shit, kid, you and me both know I deserved it.” 

“Yeah,” Mista mumbles, not being able to look at Abbacchio, so instead he looks at the woodstained porch. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” He whispers, looking briefly at Giorno before glancing back down again.

Abbacchio sighs, walking closer to him. “I know you already had a talk with Bruno and Fugo. I’m not going to harp on you because it would be hypocritical. Apologize to him. I know you’ve been stepping up more, but you need to make a full apology and reassure him instead of jumping in like nothing happened. Let him know you’re going to do better, let him know you’re not afraid of him– much less that you hate him. Let him make these decisions on where to go next. I’m honest, though, when I say if you explain how you felt; he’ll forgive you, even if he needs time first.”

Mista nods, taking another minute to himself before he walks down the path. He carries both his and Giorno’s sleeping bags, and as he approaches; Giorno’s eyes widen in surprise before they are quick to burn with anger– he practically hisses at the older teen. Just like Giorno, Mista wasn’t a stranger to backward steps. Mista swallows before he turns to make eye contact with Narancia. Upon the signal, he runs back to Abbacchio with the bouquet he and Gold Experience had made.

Mista sits down besides Giorno on the grass; the boy shuffles slightly to put distance between them as he looks away. Mista reminds himself that he can not feel hurt about Giorno’s coldness when during his roughest moments, Mista had abandoned him and treated him just as coldly.

“I’m sorry.” Mista says quietly, his eyes full of sorrow and remorse as he gazes at Giorno.

“I’m still a vampire.” Giorno cuts in quickly. “Or at least not fully human. Just because I got my reflection and the sun back doesn’t mean I’m healed. If that’s what you were thinking.”

Through all of this, he still can’t help to be weary of Mista. It’s only been two weeks but even then he had still slightly fluctuated between trying to be there and stepping back to the point it could only anger Giorno. He truly doesn’t want to feel this way, but his frustration and cautious nature won’t disappear as soon as he would like. 

“I wasn’t.”

Giorno gives him a look of disbelief, which is fair.

“I meant to apologize sooner. In fact, the night we went out on a drive I tried but you didn’t hear me." Mista admits. "Then I just…I don’t know, I didn’t know what else to say– at that point I didn’t think words would matter so much anymore against actions, but that was another thing I got wrong. No matter what I still should have lead with an apology and talked to you.”

Mista takes a breath, Giorno looks away again. “I am so sorry, GioGio. I never meant to hurt you. For a while, I couldn’t tell you why I acted the way I did. I knew I needed to be there– the way I always have been but it felt like there was this voice in my head screaming at me. My body felt like it wasn’t my own, as if it was making decisions based on a voice that wasn’t mine.”

Giorno tilts his head, he breathes a small chuckle. “I know what that feels like. For this past month and a half, my body felt like it wasn’t mine.” He laughs humorlessly and Mista winces at how tone deaf he sounded with that comment. 

When the two lapse into silence, Mista decides he can’t leave everything unsaid.

“It wasn’t you. Not exactly-...My mother was never kind.” He says softly, praying it’s not another tone deaf motion or comes across as trying to avoid consequences. “Especially when it came to religion and superstions. I don’t want to say the punishments she or the preacher gave me, but if I ever proved as a nonbeliever; it would never amount to anything good."

He shudders with a shaky sigh, and Giorno nearly wants to reach out to him the way he's always done. He restrains himself, however.

"Over the years, the paranoia got me. She was so proud of that because as long as I believed what she said, my mental well-being never mattered." He huffs a humorless laugh.

"When I left and went with Bucciarati; I thought I dropped most of those beliefs– besides my fear of the number four– because I never thought about them. I repressed it. Then…then this happened, and I started remembering everything. I fell into old habits that I knew were wrong…I tried to retain my distance to keep myself in check. Every single thing I did was wrong and I would do anything to prove that I don’t view you as a monster. I never did. You’re my best friend, GioGio– practically my little brother. I should have been there.”

Giorno stares off at the darkening sun, his eyes burn. Behind them, Narancia and Abbacchio playfully argue about something neither of them can hear much- Bruno coming to sit next to them. Fugo and Trish make their way out with their own sleepover gear. No one approaches as they let the two have their moment. Mista can feel the holes Fugo is burning into the back of his skull.

“What changed?” Giorno demands. “Did it take me nearly killing myself?”

Mista sucks in a harsh breath. “I tried to convince myself to stop, kept telling myself I’m only hurting you. It didn’t get through the amount of damage I was doing until Fugo beat some sense into me.” Giorno eyes his bruised nose. “Before then, Bucciarati had talked to me as I opened up. Everyone vouched for you.”

“Everyone but you. You were already mourning me. How I used to be.”

Mista looks away, his eyes burning as he tries to blink rapidly. Giorno feels all the overwhelming emotions brewing again.

“You weren’t there!” Giorno yells, tears streaming down his face in red, angry lines. “If it wasn’t Bucciarati, then you were the one I wanted the most and you weren’t there!” His voice cracks on the last word and Mista feels absolutely horrible.

“I know. I’m so sorry, GioGio, I hurt you. What can I do now? Is it too late? I’ll do anything to make this up to you!”

Giorno takes a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he steadies himself. It hurts but he desperately wants Mista back.

“Stay. Just don’t leave.” 

Mista is nodding immediately.

“I promise. I won’t leave.”

The promise is a relief. Giorno wipes his tears and, briefly, he stares at Mista before he all but launches himself into his arms. Mista is quick to steady the both of them before he wraps Giorno up tightly.

“I missed you.” Giorno whispers, he hides his face as he tightens his grip. Mista nods.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He rests his head on the back of Giorno’s.

“I’m sorry about how your mother is.” Giorno whispers as time passes. “I get it.”

Mista lets out a huff of laughter, “It’s okay. That day you were here with Abbacchio, I went to visit her for a long and final time. She didn’t apologize, I never expected her to, but it was cathartic. I can start to move on at least.” 

He remembers the words Fugo had said to him as they sat beaten up on a stranger’s couch waiting for Abbacchio. The younger one could relate.

“They’re not here, so what’s the use of entertaining their words any longer? They were wrong, too. Stop focusing on what your mom would want and start focusing on what you want. You’re trying to please a person who is no longer in your life. You won’t receive validation or anything of the sort because she’s not here and she would find a million other reasons to look down upon you. She’s not worth it anymore. But we are.”

Giorno hums, they don’t speak for any longer– content with one another. It’s the final part he needed to move forward.

– 

“–It makes sense, the transformation went haywire with the sudden vampiric genes and went full force. It’s calmed down, though, which explains these new changes you just told me about. With Giorno’s mother being a human, he would only have been half-vampire; Dhampir.”

Polnareff sits with Abbacchio and Bruno on the porch swing. It had only been a month since his and Avdol’s last visit when they decided to check in with the family to see how everything was going. Hearing just how rough it has been was a heartbreaking notion– he and Avdol already talked to Giorno himself, checking on how he’s been doing and hearing how he felt better made up for the heartbreak. 

Bruno and Abbacchio look exhausted, they had tried not to make it noticeable but Polnareff can see the dark circles around their eyes. It’s why Avdol and Polnareff extended their stay so the two can have a getaway for themselves. Their bags are already packed. It’s not technically needed for Avdol and Polnareff to stay as they’re all teenagers, and they’ve been out of town before, but it was a caution in case anything; a back step in progress, Passione appearance, or otherwise happened.

The others are more out in the garden with Avdol, who seems to be in the middle of telling a story– his tarot cards in hand.

Giorno and Mista stand beside one another, practically hovering over Avdol’s shoulder to see. They’re practically glued together seeing just how close they stand. Bruno can already see their codependency come back at full force after making up– the two refusing to leave one another’s side to the point they practically share each other’s rooms.

Abbacchio sees it as hell on earth considering how surprisingly– at least, for Giorno– loud they will get at odd hours of the night while talking. It’s either that or they will do shit like make a smoothie at 3 A.M; having completely forgotten that Abbacchio and Bruno’s room is right above the kitchen. Any scolding usually gets him laughed at as they whisper jokes in each other ears while he’s standing in front of them. He thinks he is beginning to understand how his dad had felt raising him.

Narancia is rapidly asking Avdol any questions he can think of, Fugo and Trish yelling at him to stop so that Avdol can continue. It makes Avdol stifle a laugh at the light argument– it’s exactly what the others did towards Mr.Joestar on those desert nights. 

“So what does that mean as a whole?” Bruno asks. Polnareff shrugs, thinking to himself.

“Nothing major to worry about. He’s able to do practically everything he’s done before– just with fangs and newfound bloodlust but that won’t be much of an issue. He won’t need it often anymore; the increase of hunger was simply because his body couldn’t figure out how to settle with itself. With that, he’s as good as gold. Just continue the way you have and everything will be fine. I know it wasn’t easy in the slightest for everyone but you guys did great. I can tell how much he appreciates that from you. He really trusts you both.”

The two men nod, nearly sighing in relief at the reassurance. The conversation switches to more simple topics before Abbacchio and Bruno stand to give their goodbyes to the others as they prepare to leave. Avdol comes walking up the steps to take their place. A couple beats of silence and Polnareff looks over at him with a troubled expression.

“Do you think we should tell Jotaro?” He asks quietly, leaning over. Avdol clicks his tongue as he stares at the family. 

“We’ll wait. Let Giorno settle more with this change before we proceed with anything. I don’t want to add an extra stress level for him at this time.”

Polnareff nods. There’s logic in the reason that he can’t argue. “I just feel bad about hiding it from him. We’ve already told Mr.Joestar and Noriaki.”

“It’s different with him.” Avdol says calmly. “We have to put Giorno’s well-being first. We’re not hiding it from him forever. We just simply have to play this right to minimize any damage.”

He feels just as bad about hiding this from his friend and making sure no words slipped by to make Jotaro suspicious but he believes it’s necessary. Giorno’s strong, yes, but he’s only a teenager who yearns for acceptance– the uncertainty he feels he may get from extending relatives will be too much at this moment. 

The two agree and end the conversation right there before Giorno can pick up on it. 

The kid smiles happily as he gives his goodbyes to Bruno and Abbacchio before Narancia gets his attention again. Avdol can only smile, as he knows he was right in the end; that no matter how long it took, Giorno did get through this with many by his side.