Work Text:
It was April 4th, two days since the betrayal of the Boss in San Giorgio Maggiore. Two days after becoming fugitives of the most influential gang in all of Italy. Two days since Fugo decided to stay behind and stay alive. And two days since the death of Buccellati.
But only Giorno knew about that last part. Mista, Narancia, Trish, and Abbacchio hadn't yet seemed to notice the open wounds that refused to heal or the bags under his eyes. Giorno couldn't blame them, though. He would never have comprehended it had Buccellati not told him directly.
The remaining members of Buccellati's gang were staying under a bay for the night; Coco Jumbo comfortably nestled in between some rocks while they all slept. They couldn't risk going to a hotel, however comfortable it would be to have individual rooms for once.
But nothing could beat the gentle sounds of the waves rocking them to sleep. It had been a rough few days for the gang. They were walking targets, and everywhere they turned, someone was waiting with a drawn arrow ready to fire. Fear was something they had gotten used to, even more so than when they first became gangsters. Nobody could be trusted. Everyone had to be on their guard.
Unfortunately, though, the gang still needed sleep and lots of it. To beat such a ruthless Boss, they would need all the energy they could muster.
So, naturally, they elected the weakest one to be the one to keep watch.
Giorno sighed to himself as he sat in the corner of the room, brushing his hair with a few branches that he grew from his palm. He felt the sap sticking to his fingers and winced at the thought of pulling that from his golden locks later, but for now, he just had to stay awake. There wasn't another choice. At any moment, the next henchmen from Passione may find them. The thought alone made Giorno shiver, much more than the cool ocean breeze could.
His eyes scanned the room. Narancia and Mista were curled up next to each other, holding each other on a couch as they shivered in their sleep, refusing to drift apart. Whether it was out of fear or the chilling temperature, Giorno couldn't tell. Narancia had been jumpier than usual since Fugo left.
As much as the younger boy had bullied him, Narancia loved him like a brother and a mentor, he could see.
Mista must've seen that, too, and wanted to help however he could. Giorno smiled to himself and walked over, grabbing a pillow and transforming it into a fox. A baby, one that was docile and, most of all, warm. He placed the kit between the two, and it instantly snuggled up to the two. He hoped it could provide some warmth for their aching hearts. A small tear slipped out of Narancia's eye as he held on to it. Giorno reached over and tugged Mista's shirt down, flushing when his fingers accidentally brushed his skin. He hoped it would bring him just a bit more warmth.
The next part of patrol was checking on Trish. She sprawled around an entire couch for herself, covered by a blanket.
A blanket?
Giorno had searched the entire area before they settled in, and couldn't find any blankets. If there were, Mista and Narancia would've used them. Where could she have gotten it?
The teen shrugged, deducing that she probably bought it along the way here. She must've thought ahead and decided she could not sleep unless covered, right?
Except, the gang had been watching her this entire time. She had no time to slip away undetected. Giorno stepped closer to the sleeping girl, noticing a familiar cross-hatch of purple, pulling together a familiar blue jacket.
"So he's a little kinder than I thought," Giorno whispered with a smile. It was the dead of night, yet he felt so much more alive than ever. Seeing the kindness of the people he'd only just gotten the privilege of meeting was making his heart swell. The fact that Abbacchio was willing to sleep shirtless in this coolness for Trish to have a bit of warmth soothed him endlessly in this trying time. The blond could only pray that he wouldn't lose any of them. Not after he'd fallen in love with them all already. Not after all they'd been through together.
That brought him to the next part of his night--checking on Buccellati and Abbacchio. They slept in separate corners of the room, always distant from each other. Giorno walked to their usual spots, heart about to burst with pride about his team, only to feel his chest drop to the floor.
Gone. They were gone.
The spots on the two sofas were entirely empty, save for two of Bruno's golden hairpins.
When had they left? Or were they taken? Wasn't Giorno awake this entire time, making sure something like this wouldn't happen?!
The teen's mind was riddled with questions. He sucked in breath after breath, feeling the beginning of a panic attack as he fell to his knees. For the sake of the sleeping teammates, he covered his mouth, trying to calm down as tears sprung to his eyes.
They might be dead--and it might be entirely his fault.
"Calm down, Haruno... placare, placare..."
After a few moments, he was able to gather his bearings. He shakily stood up, wiping away his tears as he stared at the empty couches. Suddenly, a fuse lit in his chest as his protective instincts kicked in.
The two could be anywhere at this point. What mattered now was finding them before it was too late.
Giorno rushed to the couch with Narancia and Mista, biting his lip guiltily at what he was about to do. He brought his hand over to Mista's shoulder, shaking the older boy roughly.
"Wake up, Mista! Wake up!" he whisper-yelled. "Emergency!"
Mista growled and rolled over in his little makeshift bed, almost kicking Narancia off as he stretched. He would have done so, had Giorno not brought out GE to catch the sleeping boy.
"Giorno...?" Mista whispered, rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly. "What... what time is it?"
The blond pulled Mista's hands away from his eyes, forcing him to look at him. "It's about midnight. Buccellati and Abbacchio are missing."
Mista blinked. "Oh, they'll figure it out..." he grumbled, moving his arm only to find something awfully fuzzy. "What...? What's this--"
"N-Nothing," Giorno said quickly, transforming the fox kit back into a pillow. "And, anyway, we have to look for them! I've been awake all night, and I never saw them leave, or be taken. Obviously, their exit was discreet, but why? ...I'm worried, Guido. I might need some backup."
Mista blinked, then his head shot up to face the younger teen. "Who said you could use my first name, huh?"
But upon seeing the swollen, wet eyes of the teen that had clearly just finished crying, Mista bit his tongue and swung his legs off the side of the couch, muttering annoyed nonsense to himself. He stretched his arms up and yawned again, exposing his chiseled midriff even more than usual.
Giorno averted his gaze and coughed. "Let's get going, then."
"...Alright, Giorno. I trust you."
Mista climbed out of Coco Jumbo first, and Giorno followed suit. Together, they found a cozier spot beneath the rocks and placed the turtle under there. They'd be more hidden under there, safer.
"Let's get going," Mista growled, cocking his gun. He had forgotten to bring his hat with him, and Giorno couldn't help but notice how soft his hair looked. He silently wished he could see it more often.
They both crept along the shoreline, following a subtle path that had been worn out by the wind, but was still just visible enough to grasp. Giorno shivered in the night, soon realizing that his stylish outfit wasn't really meant to sustain any sort of body heat. It would be laughable if the situation didn't feel so dire.
"Here," Mista whispered, turning the other way as he extended his hand. "You're cold... right? I have warm hands. It might help."
His voice was blunt and curt. He didn't sound like the normal, joking boy he usually was. Now, he seemed embarrassed.
Giorno chuckled to himself under his breath. Without skipping a beat, he took the other's hand. It really was incredibly warm.
"Grazie," he whispered, reassuringly rubbing his hand with his thumb. Mista looked back at him with a sheepish grin.
To any reasonable person walking by, it may seem as if they were in a relationship. However, that simply wasn't the case. They weren't in love, but after the battle with Ghiacco, the two had grown so much closer in a single day. If it wasn't there before, they now had a sense of undying trust for each other. They would die for each other in a heartbeat, and words were not needed to convey that.
But it wasn't love, not in any way other than the brotherly kind. Giorno knew that.
Then, why couldn't he stop himself from sneaking glances whenever the other wasn't looking? Why did he find himself touching him whenever given a chance? Why could he only picture himself ruling Passione with Mista's hand on his own?
"I think I see them...!" Mista whisper-yelled, shaking Giorno hard out of his thoughts.
The blond blinked, following Mista's gaze to see two figures swaying on the beach, one of them shirtless.
"Abbacchio had left his jacket over Trish. That one could be him," Giorno whispered back. Mista pulled his hand out of Giorno's to move closer, and the blond felt his fingers twitch. All of a sudden, they both noticed the music. Abbacchio was using Moody Blues to play something as the pair stood in the darkness.
They were so close to the two, but the darkness made it hard to see. Giorno and Mista were above them at the street level, while Abbacchio and Buccellati were down below on the sandy beach. If Giorno and Mista crouched over the rocks, they could get even closer. It was quiet and dark, save for a few street lamps illuminating their tender faces.
The teens held their breaths, waiting to jump out at the first sign of danger for their two teammates. Though, they seemed calm. Controlled. Peaceful and alive.
"What are they doing...?" Mista wondered out loud.
"Dancing," Giorno whispered, in awe. "They're dancing."
Now, they could see it a bit easier. Buccellati had his arm wrapped around Abbacchio's bare shoulder, with the other's arm around Buccellati's waist, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket. They spun around gently in a circle as the music played around them.
Mista opened his mouth, dumbfounded, and Giorno brought a finger to his lips to hush him before he could say a word. "Shh," he whispered. He almost felt bad for spying, but at this point, he was too shocked to move. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. They both stayed dead silent as they watched them sway.
"Leone..." Buccellati said softly, a melancholy edge to his voice. "It's getting late... we have to go soon..."
The older man shook his head, slinking his arm further around Buccellati's waist, pulling him flush against his chest. "I don't want to let you go yet, mi tesoro." He swayed them a little slower. "I know you don't want to go yet, either," he chuckled.
Buccellati shook his head, letting his head fall against his lover's collarbone as he shut his eyes. "Of course, I don't. But we must."
Giorno couldn't help but notice how vulnerable and tender he looked. He was so much different than the headstrong, valiant leader of his team that they saw during the day. It was like gazing at a different person. It was even more so for Abbacchio, a man who was willing to let his own teammate die if it meant completing a mission. Seeing such a cold, calculating person treat his lover this way made Giorno's breath hitch in his chest.
"If that brat is still awake and doing his job, he'll see us come back in..."
The raven scowled, but only snuggled further into his chest. "I can bring us in the same way I brought us out. My zippers, Leone. And don't call him a brat..."
Abbacchio leaned back, shaking his head as Moody Blues went to play another song. "I don't like that boy, Bruno... I don't like that boy... he's the reason we're in such a mess, the reason why I don't know how much time I have--
"No!" Buccellati cried, biting his lip. He did that whenever he tried to hide his true emotions. "Don't speak like that, Leone. Please... don't speak another word..."
Even in the darkness, Giorno could make out a tear slipping from Buccellati's eye. It choked him to see. He glanced over at Mista, who was staring with his cheeks flushed red. The blond couldn't blame him. Their love was overwhelming.
Abbacchio brought Buccellati's hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles gently before kissing his forehead next. "Mi dispiace," he whispered against his head, turning to look at his lips. "I won't speak like that, even if you do all the time."
The younger man looked away, a dark haze falling over his eyes. "It's different for me. I know that I will not win this fight. It is inevitable."
His words cut Giorno open. Nobody else, absolutely nobody else but him, knew that Buccellati was already dead. Only his spirit remained, but his body was gone. When the leader said this, he meant it literally. But it seemed like hearsay to anyone else.
Abbacchio leaned in and ran his fingers through Buccellati's hair, bringing him closer as he softly kissed his lips. "Then, let me have all the time you have left if you're so sure that I'll let you die on my watch. Give me all of you before we must return to reality."
Buccellati reached up and cupped Abbacchio's cheek. They had abandoned their slow dancing by this point, letting the music play freely and ignored.
"You know that I always have, mio marito."
And he wrapped his arms around Abbacchio's shoulders, practically jumping into him as he interlocked their lips, unabashed and passionate. Abbacchio didn't hesitate, letting himself fall back onto the beach as he held Buccellati in place on his stomach, feeling the sand scratch against his back as they kissed.
"I love you," Buccellati cried against his lips, cradling his face with his free hands. "Oh, mi amore... I don't want to go... I don't want to leave you behind..."
Abbacchio reached up and gently tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, kissing his cheeks full of salty tears. "You won't go... I'll always be here for you, mi tesoro. Always. So why do you sound like you're about to die...?"
Buccellati didn't know how to respond. He just sobbed quietly against his lips, always holding on to him for dear life. "Mi dispiace, Leone... mi dispiace... mi dispiace..."
"Let's go now, Mista," Giorno whispered to his friend. He felt like if he stayed another second, he would break down into tears. Luckily, Mista asked no questions. He simply got up and led them both down the dark path back to the turtle.
They spoke nothing of what they had just seen along the way. They knew that it was something to be kept silent. Yet, the love between them pulsated in the teens' chests. It was so powerful that Giorno felt he could die from it.
Giorno looked over at Mista, who's cheeks were still flushed. The blond swallowed a lump in his throat, reaching his hand over in the moonlight.
Mista glanced at it, hesitating for a moment before taking it. Giorno breathed a sigh of relief, relishing in the fact that knowing the implications of their friendship didn't deter him from touching any less.
But Giorno had to jump when Mista intertwined their fingers.
"Guido...?"
"Shh."
Mista wasn't looking away like before. He was gazing at him, his eyes gentler now, even if his shoulders were still rigid. Giorno felt his entire face heat up. Now he was the one having to look away. His heart was pounding too loudly in his chest.
They climbed back into the turtle together, refusing to let go of the other's hand. The two remaining members were perfectly, and soundly, asleep.
"...Goodnight, Guido."
"Y-Yeah. Night."
But neither of them was willing to part yet. They didn't have to say it out loud to know. Wordlessly, Giorno and Mista went to another couch, laying down next to each other, hands growing sweaty from holding each other so much. But they didn't care. They didn't want to let go.
It occurred to them at the same time, just how vulnerable their lives were. The mission really was so much more dangerous than anything else they've ever seen. The amount of heart-stopping times that Mista almost died was horrifying to remember. They really could die at any point.
So, they held on to each other. It was all the teens could do, so in love but too afraid for their own lives to deal with those feelings.
They wanted to see the lovers come back into the turtle, but were much too exhausted to do so. By the time they woke up, Abbacchio and Buccellati had returned to their respective couches, leaving the other two blissfully unaware of their heart-wrenching love.
They all left the turtle, save for Trish, to set out on the next part of their journey. The most important part of the mission.
It was April 5th, the day the team goes to Costa Smeralda. There, Abbacchio would find the boulder that would reveal the Boss's face.
At least, that was the plan.
"Are we really going to leave him here, Buccellati?! I don't want to leave him all alone!!"
Mista and Giorno stared at their leader, mouths agape. Buccellati's face was contorted in rage and gritted teeth. His fists were clenched, lip biting so hard it bled down his chin.
"We're leaving. That's an order, Narancia."
Not a single beat skipped in his voice. Not a hint of hesitation. Giorno felt like he would cry at his strength. Mista went over to console Narancia, while Giorno stood not knowing what to do. He never cared much for Abbacchio if he were honest. But knowing how much that man meant to Buccellati tore his body open.
That night, as Giorno stayed up on patrol, he was able to catch Buccellati, leaving Coco Jumbo. Sucking in a breath, he decided to follow him, not bothering to wake Mista.
His capo barely made it two steps outside the turtle before he crumpled onto his knees, body wrenching in sobs. The man pulled his hair in frustration as shook, pounding the ground with his fists.
"Why, mi amore... why did you have to go before me...?" he moaned sorrowfully. He wrapped his arms around himself, looking like an old man collapsing in on himself.
Giorno choked out a cry at the sight of him so broken. Buccellati whipped around, softening when he saw it was a teammate. He quickly wiped away his tears, placing on his mask of the strong leader. "I'm sorry, d-did I wake you? I was just... I was--"
He wasn't able to mask the stutter in his voice now. Tears pricked out of Giorno's eyes as he wrapped his arms around the man's shoulders, desperately trying to comfort him.
"I know, Buccellati. I know how you felt about him."
"What...?"
The capo hesitated, but only for a moment before he held Giorno back, allowing his tears to fall freely now. "'Felt,'? Oh, Giorno..." he cried, hiding his face in the teen's hair.
"I still love him."
Giorno gripped his shoulders, nodding as Buccellati wept for the rest of the night, holding onto the blond until his freezing hands fell numb, whispering the same thing the entire night.
"I still love him. I still love him. I will love him until I die. I promise."
On April 6th, Bruno Buccellati took the last train to join his lover in Heaven, along with Narancia.
He kept his promise.