Chapter Text
“Abbacchio! It’s for you!” Bucciarati’s voice calls for him down the staircase.
The shout sends agonizing pain through Abbacchio’s skull. While the withdrawals are getting better, his head is still pounding and his coordination is still shit! He is not constantly craving booze all the time so he thinks that is a good thing.
Abbacchio massages his forehead before responding. “Coming!”
He walks down the stairs to see Fugo sulking at the kitchen table beside the newspaper article he read the day before. Bucciarati stands beside the bookcase at the landline. His soft face wears a serious expression, which immediately makes Abbacchio anxious. “It’s for you”
“Thanks” He says, moving to take the receiver. He takes it and presses the phone to his ear.
“Good Afternoon, Abbacchio” His headache immediately worsens. Of course Polpo has made a re-appearance. What else would he be doing, his job?
Abbacchio had thought he would not have to ever see or hear this bastard ever again. But unfortunately, Abbacchio can never get what he wants. He already passed his damn test, if this ‘initiation’ has a part two he cry.
“Polpo” Abbacchio responds. Fugo stiffens out of the corner of his eye, staring intensely at the morning paper as Bucciarati fumbles around the kitchen.
“As much as I wish I was calling under happier circumstances…” Abbacchio feels like there is a but here “..but I am here to personally assign you a mission with your team mate Pannacotta Fugo”. Ah shit, You gotta be kidding me. Seriously? He gets assigned with the feral kid that looks like he wants to bite his face off at any given moment?
He takes a deep breath to gather himself before responding “Okay, what is the mission for?”
“I am glad you asked Abbacchio. You see it is a more serious mission that greatly pains me to give you but…you are both the most adept in this regard” Bullshit. Him and Fugo have never worked together. If he knew anything he would know that Fugo would rather chew his own arm off than shake his hand, let alone work with him.
His voice takes on a sarcastic, carefree lilt as he continues. “One of my most talented assassins has sadly turned against us, Deva Bucelli. She killed two members of her own squad in a heated altercation before running off…such a shame really”.
Yeah, like Abbacchio cares. But alas, he has to listen to his boss. So he shoves down his frustration with Polpo. “What do you need me to do about it…sir”. Abbacchio almost slaps himself in the face. Sir??? What the fuck is wrong with him! He really needs to stop embarrassing himself.
“Kill her,” he says. Like it is the most obvious and reasonable reaction.
Oh wonderful. It is only Abbacchio’s second mission and he is already doing hits! He is almost expecting Bucciarati to wipe a fake tear from his eye and congratulate him saying ‘oh how time flies!’.
And before Abbacchio responds, Polpo continues. “We think that she is going to flee the city tonight. We’ve received an anonymous tip that she plans to flee Napoli in the early evening, after meeting someone at Lo Spagnolo”.
Lo Spagnolo? The fancy apartments with the staircase? What an interesting place to meet. Abbacchio responds "Alright".
"Find that filthy rat and make her crawl back into the hole she came from.” and the line goes dead.
Abbacchio sighs and pulls the receiver away from his ear, setting it down. He turned to his two teammates in the kitchen. “You ready kid?”
—
As soon as they leave Bucciarati’s apartment the kid is giving him attitude. He rolls his eyes anytime Abbacchio moves, but his eyes are continually darting between Abbacchio and the street. So he really had no idea what he had done wrong. He does not really care what the fuck his problem is, however he does care if the boy with anger issues is going to be a dick to him for the whole mission. “Listen kid, I don’t care if you don’t like me but you clearly have something to say, spit it out”.
“It’s nothing,” Fugo says, rolling his eyes.
“Well, it clearly is if you’re giving me attitude”. Abbacchio fires back.
“You’re not my dad, what do you care!” Fugo raises his voice. Abbacchio knows that it is not a good idea to continue but he has given up on being rational.
“I care because I have to be on a mission with you for God knows how long! Spit it out!”
“God whatever, you’re a pain in the ass. Just take it. I was going to give you your paycheck after the mission but you have to be annoying” Fugo took an envelope out of his mysterious pocket (he has pockets?) and shoves the envelope rather harshly into Abbacchio’s abdomen.
“Thanks”. Abbacchio rolls his eyes. This is going to be a long day.
—
After a short bus ride and a long walk full of uncomfortable silence before reaching Lo Soagnolo. Both mafioso let out a weary sigh looking at the long, winding stairs as they both prepare to climb.
Abbacchio walks in front of Fugo who surveys their surroundings. The building consists of several ornate apartments, beautiful wooden doors engraved with ferns and flowers. Elaborately twisting and turning, intertwining with no end. If Abbaachio knew and could appreciate art, he would say that it was pretty damn good.
After suffering through several flights of stairs Abbacchio stumbles around the corner to see an athletic figure standing at the top of the stairs of the third floor corridor. Warm wind blows through a thick black bob, akin to Bucciarati’s but longer and messier. A muscular frame adorned in a mesh floral top, and a cropped black camisole underneath. The blue flowers reappear on her thick waistband above her black maxi skirt. Her back is turned to him and the woman continues to do so even when he stalks closer.
"Deva Bucelli"
She turns to him with an impassive expression. Looking him up and down before straightening her shoulders and narrowing her eyes, certainly expecting hostility.
"Leave" she spits out
"We can’t do that," Fugo says.
"Well I’m certainly not fighting a child. Run along" she merely glances at Fugo before looking back at Abbacchio.
Fugo gapes at her, before shutting his mouth and grinding his teeth.
“You’re wanted for treason by Passione, this can’t be brushed aside” Abbacchio stares her down. There is no coming back for her, since killing those men her fate is sealed. As much as he does not want to, her death was solidified the moment Polpo called him. And if he does not kill her: he, Fugo and Bucciarati are on the chopping block.
“I don’t care what Passione thinks” she spits out. “If you won’t get out of my way, I’ll make you”.
“Try me” Abbacchio challenges her, he refuses to be intimidated.
"I gave you the opportunity to leave. It’s too bad you’re so persistent". She takes on an angered expression as she stares Abbacchio down.
Before he knows it, the ground around her starts to swirl, like a whirlpool. They spread beyond her, throwing themselves at him like a wave pool. And as soon as Abbacchio registers this, he is immediately knocked on his ass and has his back continually pummeled by waves of concrete. The amount of abuse that his poor back has taken is immeasurable and honestly quite unfair. Finally, the waves die down, but before he can try to get up, he is grabbed from behind and dragged into darkness. He couldn’t breathe. There was nothing but stone around him, no air and no way to reach his throat. But before Abbacchio could suffocate he is pulled back into the light.
Abbacchio comes to a different position. Instead of lying on the ground, he is at eye level with Deva. Unfortunately, his body is now stuck into the nearest column, this is somehow worse than getting knocked on his ass and pummeled repeatedly. The only thing sticking out were his head and hands. Deva meets his gaze with a frustrated expression.
“I warned you, but you had to meddle where you don’t belong!”
With Deva completely focused on Abbacchio she ignores Fugo inching closer to her quite a few meters away. Typically, Abbacchio would assume that he would use his stand. But no, Fugo pulls out a pistol and loads it with a click.
Fugo lets out two shots towards the woman’s head. But they don't hit her. Instead, the bullets never touch her, they simply create a rippled reflection before squashed bullets clatter to the ground. She must have a shield or some sort of impenetrability. But what does this have to do with the waves of brick?
When the metal meets the concrete with a clack, she slowly turns to the boy and narrows her eyes. He meets her angered gaze with bared teeth and newfound resolve.
“Nice try kid. I told you to run along but if you’re going to attack me where I can’t see you I won’t play fair either” Deva says.
Her brow tightens as a teal light surrounds her figure. The ripples around Deva emerge again. Abbacchio tries to turn his head to warn Fugo.
“Fugo-”
In a flash, Deva charges towards him. Her feet gracefully avoid the dangerous waves from her stand, as they fan out in an attempt to reach Fugo. He tries to create more distance between them, but is quickly knocked down by the wave of concrete beneath him. Stumbling back, Fugo drops the gun and lifts his head to find Deva looming over him.
“Get back!” Fugo yells. Obviously uncomfortable with the invasion.
He tries to kick up at her, but she catches his ankle with her right hand. Dodging several kicks from his second leg, her left hand presses onto his shoulder and pushes him into the ground. Fugo starts to scream and wail underneath Deva. Amidst the chaos, Abbacchio does not think that Fugo notices the ground beneath him becoming malleable as he fights for survival. Something barely visible lurks beneath the surface beneath him, opening its mouth waiting for the moment to strike. Her stand!
Whether or not Fugo sees the stand lurking beneath the ground, ready to swallow him whole, the boy lets out a gut wrenching scream. His body goes taut and a low growl reverberates through the alley. Initially, Abbacchio thought the kid finally went feral. But no, the sound did not come from Fugo. Rather it came from behind him. Purple smoke envelops both users and a scream follows. It is so thick, Abbacchio cannot make out Deva or Fugo. All that is heard is a deafening roar while Deva is thrown against the apartment’s front door.
The smoke parts, leaving Fugo on the ground petrified as his stand is hunched over behind him, almost protectively. Wide yellow eyes bore into the fractures of the door and drool spills from a stitched mouth. Its head is adorned in a bird-shaped helmet with a purple cape cascading down the back marked with spikes. Its arms hang limp at its sides, with gold capsules lining its knuckles. Purple gas envelops this figure like a protective shield as it continues to pant. Letting out a loud cry that causes drool to seep from its mouth and pulls its stitches taut. The drool splatters onto its forearm and the stand lets out a pained cry in response. It lifts its arm, frantically rubbing it with the other. Then after realizing it scrubbed the dirty arm with the clean arm and the stand starts to panic. Abbacchio now understands why Fugo is reluctant to use his stand.
“What the hell is that thing?!” Deva yells.
There is a tense standstill as all three stare at the stand. Deva has two options: remain in the corridor and risk death from the unknown stand. Or move further into the building and hope to escape through the apartment. But neither she nor Abbacchio have any idea what the stand does. Before she can make this decision, the stand makes it for her. It slowly walks towards Abbacchio in the column, seemingly observing its surroundings. And if Abbacchio was not paralyzed in fear, he would have screamed. But Fugo’s stand seems to be examining his (quite embarrassing) predicament and completely ignoring Deva. And after a moment of deliberation (?) it steps back.
"Purple Haze! Stop!" Fugo shouts from a few meters away.
At least Abbacchio knows the stand’s name now. ‘Purple Haze’ lunges forward with unseen speed and kicks the wall trapping Abbacchio. Who (gracefully) kisses the ruble before pushing himself up to face the stand.
“Abbacchio! Get out of the way! Now!”
As much as he hates listening to the brat, Abbacchio scrambles to his feet as Purple Haze turns to face Deva. While it was distracted, Deva took the opportunity to create more distance between the two. Keeping her eyes on Purple haze as she slowly moves against the wall, trying to escape. Before she reaches the exit, Purple Haze lunges towards her, raising its fist. She gracefully dodges, as the stand’s fist meets the wall exposing the pipes behind stucco. Abbacchio shivers thinking about what would happen if he was punched out of the wall.
But before he can shake that image from his mind, the cracking of glass fills the silence. Fugo chokes and Deva’s eyes widen as purple smoke spills from his fist at an alarming rate. She immediately darts away before it touches her. But an unlucky mouse did not. It was quickly swallowed. Abbacchio watches in horror as the mouse writhes in agony, growing boils and leaking puss. Seizing and eventually stiffening. After a long uncomfortable silence, it starts to wither away.
Holy shit. This thing is a walking biological weapon.
Having just discovered its ability each user puts more distance from Purple Haze as it continues to examine itself for any impurities.
Abbacchio slowly turns to the boy, his mouth wide open. "Fugo, you didn’t tell me that thing was.."
"Oh I’m sorry! Am I supposed to inform you about everything?!"
"You should if your stand is a walking bomb-!"
The two start to argue as Deva dashes into the apartment, trying to escape.
"Fuck you this is your fault!" Fugo shouts before running after her.
The pair chases after her, stumbling through the darkness of an unoccupied (and unrenovated) apartment. After toppling a lamp and running into a coffee table (he has to stop doing that) he realizes that this apartment might be historically preserved…whoops. He decides to ignore that and a disgusting amount of dodging and weaving later… both mafiosos finally catch up to Deva in a spacious saloon. She whips around and faces her assaillants. Immediately Fugo loads his gun and fires two shots. But before they could hit her, she spread her arms wide and the bullets ricochet.
She starts to ripple as her expression distorts and fades away behind a giant manta ray in front of her. It quickly falls back into the ground with a splash, circling around her feet before wrapping itself behind her back, over her shoulder. Deva extends her right leg out into a graceful point, arching her back and lifting her head to face the two. After all of these bullshit antics, they’ve finally seen the stand. Her stand has been not only protecting her the entire time, but has also been camouflaged! Initially, Abbacchio thought that it needed to stay close to her due to the waves. But judging by how quickly it snatched him up before, it certainly has a longer range than he thought. With his close range stand, he’s at an inherent disadvantage.
Deva smirks "Wow, You’re easy to impress. This isn’t even the full extent of Invisible Touch. If you’re as irritating as you have been, you just might see it!". Deva begins to move, bringing her back upwards and moving her arms in a graceful arc as the stand starts its attack.
The manta ray moves from behind Deva’s back into the ground. Invisible Touch created ripples as it charged right towards Abbacchio. Anticipating this, he creates more distance between them. Fugo tries to help by shooting at its semi exposed dorsal side, but none of the bullets have an effect. In fact, they bounce right off. If Fugo would stop trying to shoot his gun, maybe he could help. But this mild frustration gives Abbacchio an epiphany. The front is impenetrable! There’s no point in shooting the damn thing if it can not only protect itself and its user!
Abbacchio rode this brief high before realizing he still has no way to counter it. But everything has a weak spot, even the finest chainmail armor has a chink.
Invisible Touch leaps out from the ground, with its gaping mouth ready to swallow him whole. Bracing for impact, Abbacchio summons Moody Blues whose indigo figure emerges to deliver an absolutely painful looking uppercut to the stand’s lower belly. Invisible Touch wails and falls back into the ground with a splash. Deva lurches forward, clutching her stomach and blood falls from her nose.
“Bastardo!" Deva growls as her stand returns to her.
“Fugo! Stop shooting the top! It’s impossible to damage her that way!” Abbacchio turns to the kid, clearly still shaken from the previous encounter.
“Well why didn’t you say that?!” Fugo yells, back. Abbacchio runs towards the kid to try and plan.
“Shut up kid! I am trying to help you! Unless you attack the underside damaging it wont be possible. Quit trying to shoot her and get the stand closer to me!”. He has just about had it with Fugo. As much as they both dislike it, they have to work together. Abbacchio starts “Listen-”.
Invisible Touch charges towards them again, cutting between both mafiosos to separate them. The stand knocks Abbacchio back, and throws Fugo towards the saloon’s wall. He cries out and slides down the wall clutching his left shoulder.
"You’re clearly no problem, boy. For such a powerful stand you are certainly weak willed ".
A second pained cry sounds from the other room. Ah shit. Purple Haze definitely followed them, and it is only a matter of time before it freaks the fuck out again and melts everyone in this room! Abbacchio has got to think strategically. If he is able to lure Purple Haze into the saloon Abbacchio can hope for a distraction and finish Deva off. All he has to do is avoid the deadly poisonous capsules on the emotionally unstable stand…simple. More stomping and shattering is heard before Fugo’s stand finally decides to grace them with its presence.
“Ubashaaaah”. If Abbacchio thought he was clumsy, the stand was ten times worse. While a walking death machine, it was quite funny to watch it try and shake off a piece of a lampshade that stuck to its left fist. At least it's less graceful than Abbacchio.
"I’d recommend you keep your eyes on me, if you would like to face your demise head on" Deva’s voice rings throughout the room and brings his attention back to her.
Invisible Touch charges towards him for round three (?), Abbacchio has lost count how many times he has had to avoid this thing. He is getting sick of this game. While Abbacchio has figured out its weakness, he is certain she will not be foolish enough to expose the underside again. Instead, she would opt to slowly take him out with her by using her stand to consume parts of him. Great.
Abbacchio calls on Moody Blues to protect him. But instead of facing him head on, it pivots and tries to strike from his right. He throws himself back, narrowly missing the stand. But it still manages to leave a nasty cut across his left forearm.
Invisible Touch does not let up, instead turning back around to strike again. He is screwed if it jumps again. Abbacchio is running out of the strength to dive all over this salon. He looks upwards, trying to look for anything, a sword or gun on the mantle, divine intervention. Anything. Sadly he finds none of those, instead he sees a woven tapestry. He has no idea what the hell the animal on it is supposed to be, some sort of dog, cat unicorn this? looks medieval. But he does not care. He rips it off the wall, maybe he can smother the stand? If not he’ll smother himself.
"Ha! What is that gonna do? I almost bit through your arm, do you think wool is better?!"
With that, Invisible Touch lunges again. But Abbacchio reacts quicker, he shoves the tapestry against the stand. Lodging into its mouth and covering its eyes. Moody Blues appears from behind to further blind the stand by pulling the tapestry tight against it.
"You fucker!"
Deva’s arms are splayed out to stabilize herself as she stares wide eyed into the distance. It seems that even though her vision is unobscured she is blinded. It must be linked to Invisible Touch!
If there was a way to blind her, Abbacchio may be able to land a hit on her. And with Purple Haze enraged, if Abbacchio doesn’t get her it definitely will. he look Suo searching for the light source, to find a beautiful chandelier hanging meters above Deva. With the sun having set, and the curtains drawn, destroying the chandelier will certainly leave them in darkness. With Fugo being out of commission and out of her sight, the best bet to cut the lights and end her that way.
Abbacchio knows his stand can’t hold on forever, Invisible Touch is flailing violently, trying to shake Moody Blues off. Each shake is stronger than the last. Abbacchio turns to his teammate with desperation, eyes darting between Fugo and the ornate chandelier providing light to the salon. Hoping he would pick up on this newly discovered weakness.
Fugo meets his eyes as he takes in the scene. There finally seems to be some communication because his hands immediately move to his gun. His eye reignite with new found fervor and determination. Unknowingly, Purple haze seems to realize this too, taking a far more offensive stance within the entrance to the salon. Abbacchio runs the risk of becoming a target, but it is the only option.
Invisible Touch finally shakes Moody Blues off, tossing it and Abbacchio towards the rightmost wall.
Deva's eyes are filled with fire, her hair is tousled and makeup is smudged. If she was mildly annoyed with them before, she is enraged now. "I’ll kill you!"
"You think that we’re cornered, but I promise you it’s quite the opposite!" a gunshot rings out, striking the top of the chandelier. It sways before its ornate crystal shatters onto the ground, leaving the room in darkness. What Deva did not notice, that her sole focus on Abbacchio neglected Fugo. While she thought him incapacitated, he took the opportunity to load his gun.
The room is covered in darkness, so much so that Abbacchio can barely make out his own hands. He hears the faint sloshing from Invisible Touch, and Fugo's stumbling. Purple Haze is shockingly silent, both a blessing and extremely worrying.
“Just because I can’t see you doesn't mean I can’t hear you!” She yells through the dark.
Invisible Touch speeds throughout the room until landing on Abbacchio’s stocky silhouette. it lunges, but before it can make contact the figure fizzles out, reverting to its original form: Moody Blues! The stand swivels around, throwing invisible stands and Deva against the glass balcony doors.
“What!?” But before Deva can grasp the situation, a gleaming fist appears out of the darkness. The sound of glass shattering upon contact makes Deva gasp as her stand flails back, bringing disease with it. Neither mafioso can see her flailing until Fugo opens the curtains, and the moon illuminates the scene.
Purple haze stands hunched over the struggling body of Deva. “AGGHH” she wails in agony as her knees hit the ground. The woman clutches at her arms, choking on Purple Haze’s poison. “YOu- YOU-! Ack!” She coughs harder. Her eyes go bloodshot and boils begin to swell up across her body.
“IT HURTS!-IT HuRTs S-so BAD! You FUCKING asshole-! It wasn’t supposed to happen…t-this wa-y” Abbacchio and Fugo watch in horror as she rolls on the ground in agony. Her legs flail and stiffen while her stand moves erratically around her. Deva’s form begins to distort, limbs elongating and melting. invisible Touch slowly floats to the ground, falling like paper before disappearing. Fugo gasps in horror upon seeing Deva’s mouth go wider and wider. Her hair falls out as her form melts, staining the apartment floor. After approximately 30 seconds of wailing and struggling, Deva’s melted form finally stills. There is a deafening silence between both mafiosos as the only thing left of Deva were her clothes.
Fugo lets out a shaky exhale. “Oh my God”
“Fugo-” Abbacchio feels the breakdown coming. A breakdown he is not at all equipped to handle. He needs to get this kid to calm the fuck down before he kills both of them with his stand.
“Oh my God!”. Fugo curls into himself, shoving his head in between his knees and pulling at his hair. Purple Haze lets out a wail as well, hunching forward to scrub at its upper arms.
“Fugo- Fugo! I need you to calm down!” Abbacchio says calmly. He kneels down and brings his hand to his shoulder. This is probably weird but he is not at all sure how to help. As long as he is away from the walking death machine that is the kid’s stand, he is happy.
“Don’t touch me! This is all your fault! All you do is ruin everything! Ever since you have gotten here all you have done is ruin my life!” The kid snarls and pushes Abbacchio away from him curling further in on himself.
“Listen kid, I know you don’t like me-”
"You’re right! Everything changed and it’s your fault! Ever since you’ve gotten here Purple Haze has been appearing! It won’t fuck off!" He gasped for air.
Purple Haze lets out another cry with Fugo.
Abbacchio did not know that. But judging by Fugo’s reaction to the stand, that explains the nap on the couch before his first mission. Purple Haze’s appearance aligns with the night Abbacchio woke up from his injury. Bucciarati and Fugo were so on edge that night, considering what he did to Deva Abbacchio would be horrified.
“I’m a monster.”
Abbacchio is at a loss of what to do. He is not at all sure on how to comfort him without enraging him more. And if he does not calm down soon, Purple Haze looks like it is going to go ballistic.
So against Abbacchio’s better judgement, he sits down next to the boy. Fugo shrinks him and continues to gasp for air, hands rooted in his hair and tugging on his scalp painfully. Abbacchio takes a deep breath to steel himself before saying. “I’m only going to say this once so listen up.”
This quiets the kid down. He slightly loosens his grip on his hair and turns his tear streaked face to Abbacchio.
“I killed my partner when I was in the force. If anyone is a murderer, it’s me. I’m not saying that to make you feel sorry for me. And I’m not asking for your fuckin’ pity. I’m saying that because my circumstances were entirely avoidable, yours weren’t. You are just a kid that happened to end up in the mafia. How? I don’t know. But, I am a grown man capable of making my own choices and you are a kid as much as you hate hearing it.” Abbacchio takes a deep breath.
"I’ve never been a kid. I’ve always been mature for my age. Everyone told me so."
Ironically, the logic behind that is quite childish. But Fugo’s pained expression shifts from an attempt to convince Abbacchio, but rather to convince himself. contrary to popular belief, Abbacchio isn’t stupid. With the way Fugo reacted to Deva’s imposition, physical contact and his stand’s overall mannerisms…he has seen enough assault cases to connect the dots.
"I thought I was mature too, you know. You grow out of wanting help. I can tie my own shoes, I can make my lunch, I can dress myself. I thought that I was grown, but I wasn't. My partner died as a result of my negligence and immaturity. All I want to do is go back to simpler times where I didn’t have to tie my shoes, do my laundry or make my lunch. Growing up sucks because everyone leaves you. You’re either around long enough to go to their funerals or they go to yours. It’s a test whether or not you can survive without them. And without him I couldn’t. I deserved it too, especially because of what I did. I'm not mature. Maturity isn’t real, adults are simply pretending to know what they are doing, all it takes is one bad thing to make the tower fall".
There is a pause between both mafiosos before Fugo lets out a “...wow”.
“Really kid? After spilling my guts-” Honest to God, Abbacchio almost pops a blood vessel. See if he ever talks to his hormonal teenage teammate ever again…
“No you- you really think that?” Fugo says.
“What do you mean?”
“Like you deserved it?”
“Yeah”
"Me too”
A fragile silence hangs between them before Abbacchio cautiously probes further "Why do you think that?"
"My anger has always been a problem, I’ve always been the problem" the boy says dejectedly.
"Oh please, are people afraid of a little meltdown? I’ve dealt with worse. I’m sure Bucciarati and I will be able to deal with you just fine"
"Sure" Fugo rolls his eyes. “Everyone who told me that ended up testifying how awful I was on trial. The only person who told me I was ‘different’ I was 'gifted' and 'excellent'....he…he said I was mature. If I’m not ‘mature for my age’ or ‘gifted’ then what am I?”
Abbacchio paused. Sure, he could give an enigmatic, poetic response, but all he could say was. “You’re Fugo”.
“Yeah, well being me isn’t exactly great”.
“And you’d rather be me?”
“Fuck no!” Fugo giggles.
The air seems to lighten just a bit. The tension initially between them does not completely dissipate, but both boys seem to feel a tiny bit lighter. It also seemed to have appeased Fugo as Purple Haze lets out a small groan before disappearing back into Fugo's shadow.
"I’m gonna ignore that. Now come on, get up" Abbacchio grins, happy to have made the boy smile. He pushes himself up and onto his feet, reaching his hands out to Fugo.
“Ugh fine" he rolls his eyes and pushes himself up alone. But he did not push him away, small wins.
There is a small pause as both mafioso pointedly look away form the melted body and turn towards the exit of the salon.
"Listen, I need to run to a cosmetics store before we go back. If you don’t complain…maybe I’ll get you something"
The boy scrutinizes him for a brief moment, searching for dishonesty. But he finds none. He wipes his face and looks up at the man timidly "if I pick something will you put it on?"
The bastard. He knows Abbacchio can’t say no.
———
Bucciarati opens the apartment door to see Abbacchio and Fugo battered and bruised but alive nonetheless. Both carrying bags!
"What did you two buy?" He asks with raised eyebrows and a relaxed expression.
"Spent my first paycheck on some essentials." Abbacchio dumps the makeup onto the table. Numerous products litter the floral tablecloth: white foundation, liquid eyeliner, concealer and more. Bucciarati does not think he has seen this much makeup since he cleaned his mother’s room out.
"He’s gonna dye his hair too" Fugo says with a barely contained smile.
Bucciarati raises his eyebrows. "Dye his hair you say?"
"The little brat wants to dye the top of my head" Abbacchio rolls his eyes, but Bucciarati can see the tiny smirk hidden between his scowl.
Fugo runs off to their small bathroom, grabbing various materials to dye their new recruit’s hair. If Bucciarati was not so pleased about Fugo’s attitude he would lament the use of his lovely white towels for an indigo dye job.
"He’s feeling better isn’t he?" Bucciarati smiles.
"He dealt with some shit taking that stand user down."
"Well, he certainly dealt with even more ‘shit’ before that. Now go on and let him dye your hair before he yells for you."
Abbacchio nurses his head "my poor, poor hair…"
"Don’t be a coward!" Bucciarati teases. He shoves Abbacchio into the hallway and turns back to the kitchen.
Maybe he can order something while they tire themselves out. And if both men pay extra attention to Fugo, give him a slightly bigger portion, indulge his whims or watch him try to color match Moody Blues, no one says anything. The waves have settled and monsters have been chased away for one more night.