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Chapter Text

Leone slammed the window shut as if it were responsible for his misfortunes. He sighed, although it was more of a growl, and without losing time he submerged himself inside his wardrobe, searching through his shirts until he found his prize.

Vodka wasn't much of a passion for him, he was a wine man, but in that instant all he wanted was to feel the heat filling his stomach. He needed to intoxicate himself until the fire crawled up his throat to abandon his mouth in a violent spit. If he could put enough alcohol inside his system it had to come clean, right? Fugo healed all of their wounds with alcohol. If it could heal a cut, it could sure heal his soul.

He laughed bitterly. He was too mature to believe that bullshit. His own soul enjoyed torment, that was the only way to explain Moody Blues' existence.

It wasn't that uncommon for Leone to feel his room crashing over him. His life went in between anger explosions and sadness pits. Bruno had forced him to go take counseling, which he obliged just because it was an order. The result were the bottle pills he was now holding in one hand while the other let the vodka go over his burning lips, then expanding the sensation to his mouth. They were supposed to help him control his emotions, but they weren't doing shit. They even made him felt even more miserable. 

You are a fucking annoyance, he told himself. He was a waste. A man who didn't deserved it had taken his bullet, saving him from his destiny, and now life had no idea what to do with him.

If he swallowed one of those bottles he could finally put the pills to use.  

But he knew he wouldn't. He owed to his former partner, and of course Bruno. He couldn't put him through the stress of his death, not now that Bruno was a capo and had so many worries already.

Anyways, he decided that the pills and the doctors could go fuck themselves. And if Buccellati found out and got angry about it, to hell with him as well. Leone was an adult. He was perfectly capable to deal with his own shit, at least until they could give him a drug that actually worked to make his life easier.

He opened the three bottles, each containing a different drug, and emptied the content in the bathroom sink. Then he opened the faucet to let the water destroy them. Bruno couldn't get angry if he got rid of the evidence. His friend had at least one more day in Venice, doing a job for the boss along the rest of the gang. Abbacchio was sure God hated him, but he thanked him anyway for being alone at home. 

Well, there was that Giorno idiot, but he didn't mattered.  

An hour later, the vodka bottle lied empty inside a trash bag along the pill bottles. Leone opened the balcony window just to throw the bag from up there. He tried to aim to the street trash can but failed by several meters. Even so, something about the sound of shattered glass against the pavement made him smile.

***

The hits over the wooden door woke him up, confused and freezing. He was leaning against the frame of the balcony window, with a half-emptied whiskey bottle in his lap. He rubbed his lips with his sleeve and when he heard the knocking again, he let out a grunt.  

"Abbacchio?" One knock, three, six and one more round. "Abbacchio, are you okay? If you don't open this door then I'm breaking in." 

"On my way!"

Leone tried to sound terrifying, but the words barely made it out of his throat. He got up with effort as it looked as the frame had stuck in his ass. He could barely feel his right leg, but made it to the door. He opened it right after removing the safety, meeting his eyes with the imperturbable gesture of Giorno Giovanna.

Looking at him made Leone feel like breaking his nose. The boy still had his pijama on and, even if his hair was braided, instead of his signature hairstyle he had three strands of golden hair leaning free against his forehead. In the former policeman's opinion that made him look much better... had he not been an unbearable brat. He carried a steamy cup in his right hand and wrinkled his nose upon seeing Leone. 

"What are you doing here?" the elder asked. 

"Buccellati called this morning. He said they'll be away another week."

Those words were like a punch in the gut for Abbacchio, although the ailment could be due the hangover.

"Fine. Thanks for the information."

Leone slammed the door intending to put it back between Giorno and himself, but the boy stopped it with his left and pushed it back. 

"I brought you this," he announced as he entered the room uninvited, much to Leone's bewilderment and anger. "It's chamomile tea."

That being said he handed him the cup, holding it with both hands. Abbacchio gritted his teeth, his fists closed so hard his knuckles turned white. Giorno looked at him up and down, stoic as always. That was a big part of why Leone hated him, he was totally unable to make him express anything. When he did, that brat was standing against him as an equal. He showed a composure that triggered him with anger and envy... no, just anger. He was a fucking kid. Normal kids didn't behaved that way. 

It was evident that Giorno had read his expression since he gave a few steps past him to leave the steaming cup on the bedside table.

"I have croissants if you want. I'll be downstairs," he said as he left the room. When he reached the door frame while being followed by Leone's icy gaze, the turned over his shoulder to add: 

"I would take a shower if I were you. You stink of alcohol."

Before Leone could react to the bomb Giorno had dropped, the blond closed the door as soft as he could, leaving the older man with his throat contracted in a scream he never uttered.

Chapter Text

The only reason Bruno let Leone keep the balcony room was his smoking tendency. Although he didn't smoke very often, Bruno was obsessive over the smell, therefore the only spot at the house were he was allowed to do so was that balcony. Leone lit the cigarette and went outside, trying to overcome the news. He was worried about his team. Why did they have to spend yet another week out there? Rational Abbacchio was certain that if anything bad were happening he'd be the first to know. Heartfelt Leone wasn't so sure. Why worry some sick little shit with a matter happening kilometers away? He was not helpful at all.

Well, he was being helpful to Buccellati. He was the one in charge of the territory while the capo was gone. That led to the question about Giorno's presence. Was he just a back-up forAbbacchio? Like he needed one. His stand wasn't the best suited for battle but he didn't had to rely on it only. He knew how to shatter knee caps with his bare feet. Besides, he wasn't taking that brat anywhere with him if there was no order to do so.

He didn't even wanted to spend time with the kid, nor even sharing the room. Leone barely drank the tea because he was no imbecile, he knew he had to put something other than alcohol in his gut. But no croissants were eaten by him. Not if he had to share them with Giovanna.

The cigarette consumed itself between his fingers and he released it to the street. After taking a shower, much to his dislike due to Giorno’s words, he got dressed and finally went downstairs.

The blond looked like his usual self now. He was wiping off dust from the pictures’ frames. Abbacchio cleared his throat and when Giorno turned to look at him, he had to restrain from screaming.

The kid was smiling at him. More of a smirk actually, but still. It was odd. Leone wanted him to stop.

“Are you going out?” he asked. Leone felt his eyelid twitching.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

No, what the fuck was the first answer that came to Leone’s mind, but he bited the inside of his cheek. Hard. So hard he tasted his own blood.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

Giorno didn’t seem surprised. He shrugged, resuming his chores.

“Guess I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

Leone murmured something but even him wasn’t sure about what he said. He didn’t give enough fucks about it. The street was waiting.

His chores weren’t particularly heavy that day. Make sure no one was causing trouble, charge some people, rutinary work. His mind, however, was somewhere else. He wasn’t sure about where, but then he felt the black hole consuming his chest yet again. Perfect. Fucking perfect.

The sun went down and Leone stayed out as much as he could. That house felt empty enough for him to not want to go inside. He spent a good time on the kerb, trying to overcome himself and his crybaby mind. Ultimately, he decided to finally go inside, but after giving two steps he found himself facing a hound.

Weird thing wasn’t the actual animal, but the way it looked directly at Leone while waving his tail enthusiastically. Sure enough the goth soon heard light footsteps, followed by a soft and slightly relieved voice.

“There you are.”

Ripping his face off was tempting. The vacuum in Leone’s chest felt physically painful in that moment, but if Giorno noticed, he didn’t showed. There was no smile on his face this time, and he was carrying one of Abbacchio’s shirts in one hand. The hound soon turned back into a belt, and Giorno placed his hands inside his pockets.

“I was worried, you took longer than expected.” He sure was waiting a response, but obtained none. “Is everything alright?”

“That’s not your business, kid.” Leone pushed through him with his shoulder, sending Giorno against the wall while passing him. He made it to the house and before entering, the smell of carbonara made his stomach grunt. It smelled delicious.

“I figured we could take a break from pizza,” Giorno said from behind Leone, sounding as if the previous encounter never happened. “I brought some wine, also.”

Now, Leone truly disliked that kid. He really did. But for some reason he felt like crying.

The keys clinked while Giorno closed the door, snapping Leone once and for all. He turned suddenly on his heels, his arm impacting directly into Giorno’s chest, trapping him against the wall.

He was petite, Leone could see it everyday, but he also felt soft, breakable bones under his arm’s pressure. Yet, Giorno was calm. Leone wasn’t. He was hearing a drum-like sound inside his head, and it was driving him insane.

“What the hell are you doing?” Spit left his lips while talking, but there was no fear in Giorno’s eyes. Just composture and a lot of exhaustion.

“I... made dinner. You are not eating.”

“You don’t know shit, Giovanna. Stop trying to act like you know everything.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I do know you are skipping meals and not taking your pills,” Giorno said, his words sounding like knives. Leone closed his fist so hard his nails drugged into his palm.

“Fucking brat...”

“I also won’t tell anyone but you gotta eat or else you’ll start losing energy. You can’t live on alcohol alone. And I know you won’t hit me.”

That last part caught Leone off his guard. He was already frowning, but now he could almost feel his brows touching.

“How could you know that?”

“Because I know the look of someone who’s about to beat me up.”

Abbacchio’s muscles tensed. He let go of Giorno, stepping back slowly. Neither tried to stop the other’s actions. Giorno just stared at Leone as this one crawled up the stairs, locking himself in his room to sit on the verge of his bed.

The whisky bottle of that morning was still there, and he made sure to empty it inside his mouth. He was shivering. His fingers tangled in his hair and he knew he couldn’t just cry and expect everything to work out on its own, but God, he didn’t have any other idea.

He cried until his cheeks felt numb and his eyes started to burn. As sudden as it had begun, the breakdown stopped.

Leone stood and went into the bathroom, washing his face with cold water to try and make his eyes look normal again. Failure. That’s what he was.

He could hear the sound coming up from downstairs. It was music. Not any music, but 80’s music. He saw himself in a patrol car, as clear as the day. His partner was there, both laughing while patroling the streets, listening to Tears for Fears and their cheerful beat.

He had to eat.

As soon as he opened the door, the smell of salsa carbonara hit his nose again, but it was very strong to come from the dinning room. He looked down.

A plate full of pasta lied on the floor, still hot and looking tasty. He bent down to pick it up and after a second, decided to go downstairs.

He found Giorno sitting on the couch, a book in hand and the radio on. His expression was impenetrable, but he seemed very focused on his reading. Neverthless, he was sure able to feel Leone’s presence, for he looked up from his book to the older man.

Fugo was prone to rage but even him seemed distant after one of Abbacchio’s explosions. Narancia's reaction was fear, and Mista usually became distrustful. It wasn’t their fault. On his own way, Leone was thankful to them for bearing his shit and not leaving him to rot alone. Bruno always looked worried, and that made Leone feel guilty. They were doing so much for him, more than he was trying.

And then was Giorno. Giorno didn’t showed anything Leone could read. He treated him like the little stupid brat he was, but still Giorno made him dinner and gave him his needed space without pointing out Leone’s state of mind. What was he doing? Whatever it was, it felt... good.

“Have you...” Leone coughed, biting his bottom lip a little before starting again. “Have you eaten yet?”

Giorno closed his book, nodding softly. “I did.”

“Okay then.”

Abbacchio began retreat, but Giorno rose his voice.

“You can still eat with me if you want to.” Leone stood still, his breath heavy. He turned back to go sit in the couch, taking the first bite of his meal. It really tasted good.

Giorno went to the kitchen to grab the wine and poured a glass for Leone. No words were spoken. There was no need. Sometimes the only thing a person needs is to know they’re not alone, even if they feel they are.

Apparently, Giorno understood it quite well.

Chapter Text

Next morning, Leone woke up with the sound of soft knocking on his door. He barely remembered how he had come to bed the night before. He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“Come in.”

Giorno did it, poking his head through the half-open door.

“Buongiorno,” he said, “Do you want me to bring up your breakfast?”

Leone laughed a little. He shook his head, stretching his arms over his head. 

“What are you, a maid now?” he said mockingly. Giorno shrugged, his expression serene but Leone could see the mischief in his eyes.

“I think, and Bruno agreed, that you deserve to be spoiled a little.”

“Bruno tends to exaggerate about me,” Leone replied while getting out of bed. “I’m perfectly okay.”

“If you say so.”

Leone took of his shirt and headed to the wardrobe, until he felt Giorno’s gaze. He turned to the teen to discover he was actually staring at him. With horror, Abbacchio realized that it didn’t bothered him as it should. He cleared his throat 

“Would you mind...?”

“Oh,” Giorno nodded, closing the door, “I’ll wait for you then.”

As soon as the door clicked, Leone headed straight to his bathroom, cheking his makeup. It was a mess. He couldn’t understand why did it matter though, the only person in the house was Giorno. Who cared about his opinion?

Abbacchio got ready and went downstairs, the sweet smell of cookies and tea welcoming him. Giorno was already taking little sips from his cup, and smiled at Leone when he sat beside him.

“I was lucky today. I made it to the bakery in time to get the best cookies in the lot.” Leone had no idea of how to do small talk, but he felt as he should try to at least.

“Mista says you are always lucky.” He took a cookie and gave it a bite. It was as delicious as the smell promised. Meanwhile, Giorno had gone red.

“Mista tends to exaggerate about me,” Giorno said, mimicking Leone’s previous response. “I just evaluate things a lot. My plans might fail one day.”

“Maybe.” Leone was the worst person in the world to offer support of any kind. For a moment he felt bad. Perhaps Giorno wanted to hear some reassurance, so he tried his best. “I hope we never get to experience that.”

Giorno placed his cup on the table, a slight smile on his lips. “That makes two of us.”

Silence remained while they finished their breakfast. When Abbacchio stood, Giorno did the same, clearing his throat. 

“Would you let me go with you today?” he asked. The first reaction that came to Leone’s mind was to deny the request. He opened his mouth but ended up rubbing his forehead.

“... okay. But don’t be a trouble, Giovanna.”

***

On one hand, not being alone had turned out to be convenient.

On the other, what a fucking good timing.

Leone struggled to catch his breath while dragging Giorno to a wall, due to utter fear. Giorno was so light, but watching him bleed out was driving Leone desperate. The few seconds that had passed between Giorno hitting the floor and Giorno rising up were a fresh taste of hell for Abbacchio. It was as if Moody Blues was replaying it all over again... 

“Why are you like this?!” Leone said while gritting his teeth. Giorno was breathing heavily, but at least he was breathing. His shoulder didn’t stop bleeding and the smell filled the place.

“I...”

“Shut up! I don’t wanna hear you!”

Giorno was already parting his lips to reply, but Leone covered his mouth with one hand. Around the corner, he heard that asshole charging the gun again. He stood.

Back then, when Mateo saved his life sacrificing himself in the process, Leone did nothing but scream and cry. This wasn’t the same guy, but it didn’t mattered. He had tried to shoot him dead, hurting his new partner by doing so. And this Leone wasn’t the same, either.

One punch flew and landed on the guy’s nose. The gun fell to the floor, but this wasn’t enough to stop Abbacchio. He kept hitting the man until he was on the floor, then the task was on Leone’s boots. He kicked hard, almost rejoicing on the muffled cries. That imbecile was trying to charge fees in their territory. He had tried to kill him. He could have killed Giorno. He could have killed him…

“Abbacchio!”

Giorno’s voice dragged Leone back to the world. The man on the floor no longer cried. His eyes were open, but no shine lived in them. Adrenaline left Abbacchio’s body as he turned to Giorno, who was looking straight to him while holding his injured shoulder.

“Is he dead?” he asked. Leone nodded.

“Yes. I hope his mates get the fucking message.”

Giorno stood there, leaning against the wall. Leone walked up to him and took his sane arm to try to place it around the back of his neck. It didn’t worked. He was way taller than Giorno. He grunted as he took the younger in his arms to carry him, despite all the complaints that followed.

***

“Abbacchio, it’s okay,” Giorno repeated, “I’m okay.” Leone hissed, while gently rubbing the gauze over the wound.

“I’d believe you if you weren’t bleeding. Now don’t be a damn brat and stay still.”

“I can take care of it, you know?”

“If this gets infected, Buccellati would kill me. Won’t take the risk, kid.” He could actually feel the younger rolling his eyes, but since Leone was at his back, he lacked confirmation. It didn’t mattered. Leone got the wound clean and covered it with clean gauze, securing it with clinical tape and making sure the borders sticked well to Giorno’s skin.

He hated the way his mind actually rewinded everything for him, even if he didn’t wanted to. To think they both had lowered their defenses just because the enemy wasn’t a stand user was utterly infuriating. Seeing all that blood... the pain in Leone’s chest returned, and he was on the verge of crying until Giorno’s voice called for him.

“Abbacchio... are you okay?”

Facing back reality, Leone noticed he still had his hand over Giorno’s shoulder. His skin felt hot to the touch, but still was so soft Leone had to refrain from closing his hand on it. He nodded in response.

“Sorry,” he said while letting go, “I was just... thinking.”

He got up and walked until he stood in front of Giorno.

“Don’t you ever do that again.”

Giorno blinked. The left corner of his lips formed a curve, his brows arching up as well. He wasn’t smiling. It was the first time Leone saw Giorno being clueless.

“Do what?”

“If I tell you to run, you run, Giovanna. Don’t be a hero.”

In that very moment, Giorno stood, facing Leone with such determination he could almost touch it in the air. God, he was really short. Would he grow bigger someday? If he dind’t quit trying to be everyone’s fucking hero, sure not.

“We’re teammates,” Giorno said firmly, not a hint of doubt in his voice, “even if you hate me, we need to hold our backs.”

I don’t hate you, that’s what Leone wanted to tell him. He was a dick to everyone because he didn’t deserve any friends. He would let them all down eventually, such a disgrace he was. He didn’t needed to be protected, he was the protector. But instead, Leone poked the minor’s chest, hard, making Giorno trip backwards onto the couch.

“You can’t hold anything. I carried your ass back here and it wasn’t worse than carrying a fucking puppy. What can you hold?” Leone pointed at him and added, “You can’t even stay on your feet.”

“You pushed me.” It was a direct accusation, Leone could hear anger in Giorno’s voice.

“Get used to it. The streets will be harsher than me.”

Silence appeared then, both men staring at each other. Leone could see Giorno’s chest going up and down like crazy, even if he wasn’t able to hear his breathing. He was a silent boy. Abbacchio’s own breath was less noticeable, since it was almost inexistant. Air couldn’t cross trough his throat. All he felt was an awful sensation of suffocating, his heart racing in his chest. He took a few steps back, giving Giorno space to get up.

The teen did get up, glancing at Abbacchio coldly on his way to the kitchen. Leone stayed in his spot for a few moments before walking up to Giorno and touching his sane shoulder in order to make him turn.

“What do you nee...”

“Listen up, kid.” Leone grabbed Giorno by the chin, forcing him to fix those deep green eyes on his own. “You need to promise me to never do anything that reckless again.”

Giorno’s factions made him look beyond upset. Leone leaned closer to him, ignoring the way his heart jumped by doing so. “Promise me, Giorno.”

Giorno sighed and looked away. “Fine.” He rose his hand to get rid of Abbacchio’s hold, then headed into the kitchen and closed the door with a kick. Leone stared at the closed door a long time before heading to his room. He changed into his sleepwear and got into bed, trying to erase the views of blooded Giorno from his head.

Chapter Text

Much to Leone’s discontent, his mind was nowhere near letting him sleep like a regular human being. He spent too much time rolling from one side of the bed to the other, resisting the urge to drink his way to sleep. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and sighed, annoyed. 22:30. Long night ahead. His heart was still racing. He tried to repeat himself that everything was okay, but it didn’t worked. The What if...? scenarios were all horrifying.

What would Bruno do? That sentence was worth carving on a bracelet. In this case, the answer was tea. Bruno stored lots of tea, sure one could help him catch some sleep.

Once on the hallway, Leone heard muffled cries. Jesus Christ. He rushed to the room Giorno shared with Narancia, knocking on the door furiously before opening it with a kick.

Giorno was sitting on his bed, tears on his eyes and his Stand trying to fix the wound. Judging by the way his chest moved and the colour his skin had gained, the boy was going through a lot of pain. Abbacchio went straight to him, sitting beside him and offering his right hand.

“Take it,” he urged. Both Giorno and Gold Experience seemed surprised. Leone waved his fingers, and slow but sure, Giorno closed his hand over Leone’s. The goth felt the coldness of Giorno’s skin, and almost laughed upon realizing how small that hand was compared to his own. Before he could notice it, both hands were one, their fingers intertwined.

Gold Experience resumed its task.

Even with his hand being barely two thirds of Leone’s, Giorno squeezed hard enough to somehow transfer part of his own pain to the older man. Leone clenched his teeth, just squeezing in return, and his free hand leaned over Giorno’s back, offering him support both physically and morally. Not long after that, the boy’s shoulder was as good as new and somehow Leone was sitting on Giorno’s bed while the blond was lying on his back, trying to recover from the obvious trauma his Stand putted him trough.

It was nearly an hour before Giorno rose, placing his hand slowly over Abbacchio’s leg.

“Thank you,” he muttered. Leone looked at him and crossed one arm around the delicate frame of Giorno’s shoulders.

“I do care about you, you know?,” he asked. Giorno nodded. Leone pulled him closer, trying to avoid his no-longer-injured shoulder out of fear. “You shouldn't be here.”

“It’s not as if I have any family to go back to,” the blond said, but Leone shook his head.

“Let alone that,” he said while taking Giorno’s chin in one hand. He made the boy rise his gaze, fixing his deep green eyes into his own gold ones. “You shouldn’t be in the mob, but even worse, you shouldn’t be here... here.”

I’m not good. I’m scum. I don’t deserve any kindness, I fuck up everything I care about, everyone around me dies...

Giorno couldn’t hear the way Leone’s head was torturing him. He locked his thin arms around the silver haired man, his cheek resting on Leone’s chest. First, Leone didn’t know what to do, but then he decided to reciprocate the gesture. He cradled Giorno closer, closing his eyes and just accepting his fate. It was sealed. Surprisingly, it felt good.

“I'm exactly where I want to be.” Was all Giorno said after that. Sooner than later, the little annoyance fell asleep, and Leone Abbacchio realized he would never be able to let him go.

***

Next morning, Leone opened his eyes and found himself curled up over Giorno’s petite self. In return, Giorno was curled in a ball over Leone’s lap, sleeping with a subtle smile on his lips. His golden locks were spread all over his face, but they didn’t completely covered his peaceful expression. Leone hated him. He was like an antidepressant, but one he couldn’t help but cherish... Damn.

He was really lost beyond all hope.

“Hey, you brat,” he said while poking the other’s ribs. “Giovanna. I can’t feel my legs.”

Actually, he could feel them. He could feel the kid’s breath and it was warm, comforting. What would’ve happened if the bullet had embedded in his neck, or his head? Abbacchio felt his eyes burning and carefuly took Giorno in his arms, placing him over the bed and covering him with the sheets before going to his own room looking for his meds. A shower and ponytail later, he was making coffee, both for him and Giorno.

The teen appeared not long after that, his hair loose and still in his sleepwear. Leone’s breakfast was really poor compared to Giorno’s complete work, but the latter didn’t complaint, just took a seat and started drinking. Abbacchio was right in front of him, both men silent until Giorno cleared his throat.

“Thanks for... you know... keeping me company last night.” The words were low and timid, and Leone just nodded.

“Don’t worry about it. I owed you.”

“No... you don’t understand.” Leone looked straight to Giorno, eyebrows arched and really lost. His silence was expecting the blond to continue, and after a few minutes, he did.

“I’m used to be alone since I was very young...” The way the boy was speaking almost made Leone cry. He knew a lot about pain and that voice was holding a lot of pain. “My mother never cared much about me and neither did my step-father. Whenever I got hurt it was only me and Gold Experience, you know? Last night felt... odd. But in a good way.”

A new silence arose and this time it lasted until coffee was finished and Giorno took the cups to wash them. Leone stayed at the table, his hands playing with each other until he gathered enough courage to get up and be a fucking man.

He went straight to the kitchen and told Giorno everything about the death of his partner, his downfall and the very poor state he was into before Bruno found him and saved him. When he realized Giorno was tracing a finger over his cheekbone, he noticed a few tears escaping his eyes. He tried to look away but Giorno’s hands cupped his face, fingers caressing his skin in a slow motion.

“I guess we were good before we knew how to break each other, huh?” Giorno said, almost cheerful. Leone nodded a little, closing a hand around the other‘s wirst. “I’m sorry, Abbacchio. You comforted me after I made you relive a very awful moment.”

“Don’t give yourself so much credit. I remember that night every moment, awoke or asleep. And I will for as long as I’m alive.”

“Maybe I could help with that.” Now, Giorno had a look Leone never had seen before. It was deeper than ever, shining and a little mischievous. While staring at him, Leone could notice those eyes fixed on his mouth, and soon enough, his own look was down on Giorno’s pink lips.

“I’m scared and terribly curious,” Leone admitted. His hand moved onto Giorno’s chin, and the younger placed his own hands over Leone’s chest. Slowly, Leone leaned down to Giorno.

"HONEY, I’M HOME.” Narancia’s voice filled the house, causing both men to drift away from each other. Giorno submerged himself in the fridge while Abbacchio ran and jumped onto the couch, taking the first book he placed his hand onto. Not two seconds after that, Mista and Narancia stormed into the house, followed by Fugo and Bruno, both of them carrying groceries and, as Leone could see, wine.

“Did you guys miss us?” Bruno said while placing the bags on the floor. In the kitchen, Leone could hear Mista talking to his “Lucky Boy” and over his greetings was Narancia telling the blond a story about a pigeon taking a shit on Fugo’s hair.

Abbacchio really loved that noise. He always listened to all the bullshit the kids talked, even if he had his headphones on. They were his family. But right now, he was cursing inside.

“I hope you didn’t tortured Giorno that much, Leone.” The capo took a seat just in the front couch, and Leone smiled bitterly at him.

“Not that much.”

Chapter Text

What followed was a tension and anger Leone couldn’t hold enough to not scream at Fugo as soon as the asshole asked him why was he so moody. The amount of insults and cursing contained in that reaction was so big that even Narancia, who used to take everything as a joke, seemed worried. The air in the dinning room was so thick it could have been cut only with a butcher knife. When the blood boiling in his head got cold again, Leone noticed that not only had he screamed at the top of his lungs, but he had smacked the table with both hands and was now standing. The chair was on the floor. Everyone was looking at him with either worry, fear or pain. He excused himself and went to his room, locking the door so no one could try to talk some sense into his brain.

Of course Bruno zipped himself inside the room not much later, rushing to Leone to take the bottle from his hands.

“Leave me alone, I'm okay,” he protested, but Buccellati was probably the only person in the world that could hit his head with a maze and not get a punch for it.

“A goldfish could see you are anything but okay. You won't convince yourself like this, Leone.”

Silence was the only answer the capo received, so he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Talk to me. Are you taking your pills?”

“Yes.”

“Don't force me to lick your cheek.”

“Don't be disgusting, you have no need to do that.” Leone stared at Bruno and he stared back. Guilt and shame started to punch Abbacchio in the gut. Of course Bruno knew, but he wanted to hear it from Leone’s mouth.

“No.”

Bruno sighed and sitted on the bed while Leone rolled his legs, then embracing them and placing his chin on his knees. He felt like a child about to get some sort of scolding from his mom. He felt like laughing but if he knew that man he knew that wasn’t the best time for it.

“Why do you make it harder, Abbacchio?” There it was. Whenever Bruno used his last name, shit was about to hit the fan.

“It is hard, it’s always fucking hard and painful and desperating. I just drug myself and still feel nothing, sometimes I feel like I am nothing, and when I do feel, it’s bad shit. Those pills have no use to me.” Leone gluped, holding back tears. “They never do anything. At least not anything good.”

Bruno looked mortified. Leone felt like garbage. There he was, complaining to the man that had saved his life, being an ungrateful bitch. His breath was starting to tremble.

“I’m sorry.” Both men spoke at the same time. Leone felt even worse.

“You don’t have to be sorry, imbecile, you’re the one that tries and I’m the asshole that fucks it.” At this, Bruno laughed, but his tone was nowhere near amused.

“I could try a little better. Besides, I bet that leaving you alone with Giorno so many days didn’t helped your mood.”

Leone was about to speak, but opted to keep quiet. Bruno kept talking.

“That’s why I rushed the boys to finish everything ever faster, but the damned guy we were after was smart. I couldn’t stop imagining coming back to a massacre. I’m sorry. At least we were here before another week passed.”

“Yeah, that's what got me worse.”

The movement Bruno made was so sudden that Leone nearly felt attacked. In a second, the other man was right at his side, staring at him like a teen girl about to hear a juicy gossip.

“What?!” The little bouncing Buccellati was performing almost provoked Leone to push him down the mattress.

“What ‘what’?” Despite trying to look upset, a soft smirk spread in Leone’s lips, because Bruno’s enthusiasm was contagious. Bruno shrugged, his smile lighting the room.

“Tell me what happened, Leone,” Bruno said, more like a dare, “I’m seeing situations in my mind, and maybe you’ll hate to know what I’m seeing,” and after that, he giggled. Leone tried to hit his elbow on Bruno’s ribs.

“I didn’t fucked him, you disgusting shit,” Leone laughed, finally, and he knew his face was as red as it could be.

“Oh but you'd love to, don’t you?” Bruno waved his brows, and then Leone gave on his desires and pushed him to the floor. Both men were laughing now, and the cloud of sadness that was covering Leone prior to that vanished.

“I don’t know. I can’t stand him easily, yet the idea of losing his stupid presence is... a nightmare.”

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Bruno suggested. “He’s very empathic and, besides, he tries so hard to get on you, maybe he likes you.”

Leone raised an eyebrow. He hadn't told Bruno that their sudden arrival had cockblocked them, so he proceeded.

Bruno gasped and started bouncing again.

“I’M SO SORRY, oh God. I swear, Leone, I’m going to fix that,” and his expression changed rapidly, turning serious. “But you should apologize to Fugo. He was just... worried. Like all of us, actually.”

For the first time in forever, Leone agreed to apologize to someone. Then he realized what was going in Bruno’s head.

“DON’T fucking do anything. Please. I can handle it.”

Bruno turned to him, smiling with some malice.

“You’ll thank me later, promise.”

Leone covered his face with both hands, embarrassed to inhumane levels, and by the moment he looked again, Bruno was gone.

***

Next day, Leone barely saw Giorno. He spent a lot more time with the younger members, which was totally understandable. The problem was that he couldn’t talk about his damned feelings around Narancia or Mista, unless he wanted a ticket to eternal mockery. So the talk was postponed 

And the same happened the next day. And the next. And the next.

At dawn of day five, he woke up to the noise of teenagers fighting for the bathroom. He got up from bed to peek out to the hallway, and found Mista screaming at the door.

“The fuck is going on?” Leone asked. Mista was crossing his legs while banging on the wood so hard it left his hand red.

“I’m pissing myself,” was the answer, “and Buccellati told us to get in the car in two minutes and Narancia won’t get out of the fucking bathroom! GET OUT YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

“Oh,” the goth blinked, going back inside, “I better get ready, then.”

“No, it’s just us going, you’ll stay here… and Giorno too.”

Leone screamed. The voice spoke from his back and even if he knew who that was, it always scared the shit out of him.

“GOD DAMN, BUCCELLATI.”

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” And smiling like a kid that got away with his trick, Bruno vanished into the zipperverse again, Leone laying on his door with one thought in mind: Fuck me.

***

Not much later, Leone decided it was time. He put his lipstick on and brushed his hair straight, trying to look nice. A deep breath later, he called for the blond.

“Giovanna? Are you around?”

“Over here!”

The teen’s voice came from the garden. It was so obvious that Leone felt stupid for not going there directly. When he opened the door, he saw Giorno trimming the roses. Little steps drove the older man to his side.

“What are you doing?”

“Cutting off the leaves. If they don’t have enough, the sun would burn the flowers, but too much shadow rots them.”

“Oh. I see.” Leone didn’t gave a shit about flowers in general, but the way Giorno loved and took care of them was cute. “Hey, when you’re done, can we talk a little?”

“I can be done right now.” The teen stood, leaving the scissors on the floor. Then he turned to Leone. “What do you need?”

“You.” A second passed and Leone realized the stupidity he had said. “No, fuck, I meant, you and me, like...” “Yes.”

Leone’s eyes stared at Giorno, who seemed very serious to be joking around. He never joked like that anyways.

“Yes what?”

“I wanted to kiss you. Like, I still do.” The blonde shrugged as if Leone weren’t standing in front of him nearly having a heart attack. “It’s okay if you don’t, though, I understand that you were like, sad and maybe didn’t meant to follow. I’m sorry if...”

“Shut the fuck up, Giorno.” While speaking, Leone placed a hand behind Giorno’s head, the other holding the teen’s chin, and wasting no time he pressed their lips together. Giorno gasped, and not long after that his hands held onto Leone’s jacket, reciprocating the kiss.

First, Leone just pressed his lips onto Giorno’s, testing the waters, but later he opened his mouth a little only for Giorno to slide his tongue inside. They pressed even closer, both tongues playing and their breaths failing. It didn’t mattered. Giorno tasted like candy and berries, his lips were soft, and Leone felt like he was touching heaven...

And then the fucking phone rang.

This time, they didn’t ran away from each other. They barely separated with the first ring, saliva all over their lips, and Leone grunted.

“We don’t have to pick that up.” He offered, tracing kisses along Giorno’s jaw. The blond shook his head.

“Maybe something happened.” There was worry in his eyes, but still, his body was as close as Leone as possible. “Go pick it up, Abbacchio... Please.”

That ‘please’ was worse than any filthy thing Giorno could’ve said. Leone heard the third ring and bit Giorno’s upper lip before going back inside and picking up the phone.

“Who the hell is this?”

“Hey, it’s me, Narancia,” of course it had to be Narancia. “Were you jogging? You sound agitated.”

“Speak, what’s happening?”

“Buccellati told me to lock my window before going out but I forgot, can someone please do it for me?”

Leone was about to scream. He was hard as rock, listening to a plea that sounded as childish as infuriating. “You called to bitch about a fucking window?”

“Yeah...” “When you return I’ll fucking kill you. Put Bruno on the phone.” Narancia obliged.

“Did you had luck yet?” Bruno sounded cheerful, and Leone felt like strangling him trough the phone.

“I was before Narancia called to fuck it all.”

“Oh. Sorry. Not gonna happen again.” Bruno cleared his throat. "We’ll be back around five or six in the morning, ok? Be safe... in every way!”

Bruno hung the phone, and Leone looked back at the garden. Giorno had resumed his task with the flowers and suddenly, Leone felt like running away.

So he did. The street was always there for him and maybe he could find someone to kick instead of his dickhead friends.

***

When he came back around eight, the house was dark and silent. Silence was normal. Bruno had said they’d be back in the early morning, and Giorno wasn’t the noisy kind... but he used to read a lot when alone, so the darkness so early in the night was worrying. He entered the house slowly, trying to keep it low, and soon enough was making sure nothing was out of place. No bloody spots on the carpet. He made Moody Blues rewind to a couple of hours earlier, for good measure, and just saw the blond doing his mundane tasks.

He was ok, then. But where was he?

According to his Stand’s actions, Abbacchio deducted the teen was upstairs, so upstairs he went. He felt like they needed to talk, and shit, he wasn’t happy about it, but a lot of things needed to be clarified.

More to his own mind than anything else. The concept of ‘love hate’ was strange to Leone’s head. In his childhood he used to be a fairy tale type of love believer. Love at first sight and all that bullshit. Later on his life, love didn't mattered. He didn’t deserved it. But Mista was an adept to chick flick movies, and sometimes those were so unrealistic that even Abbacchio could see it. How could anyone go from hating someone to loving them?

He told himself he wasn’t in love with Giorno. That wasn’t love, it was just a violent desire aching on his veins. But then again, you didn’t develop a fear of losing someone if you just wanted to fuck them. And, definetly, you didn’t wanted to fuck a friend.

Sooner than later, Leone found himself in the hallway leading to the dorms, and at slow pace he walked towards Giorno’s.

The door was open. Not entirely, just a little, but enough to let the goth take a look inside. And there was Giorno, braiding his hair with little to no care. Probably getting ready to sleep. Soon he was done and Leone thought to let the talk for the next day... he could always go buy some pills and swallow them to get some rest. But then Giorno started to take off his shirt, and Leone found his feet to be stucked to the floor.

He felt like a fucking degenerated, stalking a sixteen year old trough the door. The shirt went up in slow motion, showing little by little Giorno’s abs, then his chest... Leone’s heart was racing, his lower half starting to burn. That damned boy was so good looking, so tempting, even abnormal. No one undressed like that. It was slow, painful to watch… and then, he realized. Giorno wasn't just getting ready for bed. He knew Leone was watching…

… and was teasing him.

Leone held back a laugh, smirking instead.

“You're such a filthy kid, aren't you?” he murmured, loud enough for the blond to hear. Giorno smiled like only a devilish teen asshole like himself could do. The shirt flew to the side and the emerald met the gold, his head tilted to a side, exposing his neck.

Still doubting, Leone opened the door with one foot, biting his lower lip.

“Do you wanna cross the line? Really? I don’t want Bruno to hit me whenever he comes back.” Deep inside, he wished he was confident. But he needed to ask, he needed to know for sure that both of them wanted the same.

As an answer, Giorno unbuckled his belt, sliding it out and releasing it to the floor. 

Leone smiled and entered the room, closing the door behind him as soon as Giorno opened his arms to him.