Chapter Text
Death; the inevitable fear of a life ending—it would only make sense for the fear of it to equal the pain. However, as the priest groggily opened his eyes, he only found himself to be a bit sore. Blood trickled along his attire, soaking into the deep purple cloth. Perhaps the pain had been numbed, he thought. Enrico’s eyes closed briefly, inhaling the crisp air around him before he gained the strength to open his eyes and look around. Instead of seeing a jail cell, soft dirt pressed against his clothes as arrays of flowery danced along with the wind. The priest couldn’t help but blink for a few moments, thinking this was all some sort of dream. But once he saw a fair-skinned man asleep beside him, he concluded he was either dead or in some sort of personal blissful limbo.
Pucci coughed lightly, wiping away the blood that dribbled onto his chin before he cautiously brought a hand over to the fair-skinned man’s hair. Running his bruised fingertips gingerly, he noticed how plush the other man’s hair was. Soft and silky, just as his own. The priest absentmindedly hummed as he continued to stroke the man’s hair. Surely, this must have been the afterlife, for there was no way his brother could have been alive. Yet, Pucci’s curiosity led him to press a finger to his sleeping brother’s cheek.
It was warm.
It was lively.
Enrico was tempted to stir his brother awake, to vigorously shake him to see if heated maggots would come out of his skin. He could not believe his brother could be alive. There was absolutely no way. The priest quickly pressed a hand to his own cheek, feeling his own warmth. He blinked slowly, letting out a shaky sigh, “Ah, this must be some sort of trick of the afterlife.” He was never too sure for what life beyond death held but seeing the brother he hated most was something he wished was out of the equation. If Pucci had enough strength, he would have quickly dashed away from his twin. Alas, there were detrimental cuts and gashes that laced his legs. He was, at least, thankful the pain had not seeped into his mind just yet. And as he scanned the area around his once more, he plopped to the ground and stared at the clouds.
Usually clouds would bring a sense of peace to the priest, as he would often glance outside the jail to see the careless wisps of white dance along the skyline. But it was the careless clouds that led to his inevitable demise. Weather Report. Pucci grimaced; if it were not for that stupid child, he would have been alive—leading on DIO’s conquest of heaven. Instead, he was trapped in whatever limbo the world has set him to. Was this heaven? Was this hell? The priest glanced over at his resting twin before he focused his gaze at the sky again, he wasn’t sure anymore. All he could truly decipher is that he was given a choice; to live with his brother or to live ignorantly void of his presence.
Pucci softly murmured prime numbers in reverse as he thought about his options, ending his thoughts with a solemn chuckle. He would have loved to choose the second option, but with his legs in their current condition, he was left to suffer with the first choice. The priest chuckled a bit more loudly, God sure loved testing his patience.