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No one dared to speak, allowing the engine of the boat to hover over their thoughts as expressions of shame, defeat, and anguish reflected back between their faces. The world each of them held so dearly at their center had been irreversibly shattered. When faced with the stars of the night sky as the remainders of the defunct team fled, it felt as though any one the sparkling orbs above would fall off its hinges and descend upon the city below.
The sputtering of the boat’s engine caught the mafiosos by surprise as the vehicle slowed down against the sidewalks that tightly hugged the city’s canal ways. Their newest member, who had been the first to flee to the boat for refuge had now halted their escape entirely.
Giorno simply closed his eyes and brought himself to his feet, not sparing a second glance as he stepped onto the temporary dock, turning his back and facing the empty streets before him.
“What the hell do you think you are doing!?” Mista hissed, trying to avoid any unnecessary attention as he gestured for the blond to get back onto their ticket out of the city.
“I’m leaving.” Giorno’s voice remained forever cold, no more emotion to be had than any other time he spoke.
“Leaving!? That’s suicide! We need to stick together as a team!”
“You can’t just leave us, asshole!” Narancia jerked upwards, violently rocking the boat as he attempted to chase after the blond teen, only to be stopped by a firm hand clasping onto his wrist. Fugo silently shook his head in disapproval, unwilling to stop him any further as Narancia tore his arm from Fugo’s grasp. “Friends don’t fucking abandon one another!”
“We are not a team and we were never friends.” Giorno refused to turn around and face the others, his fists clenched tight as he spoke the words that needed to be said. “Our supposed ‘team’ died within that cathedral. I joined Passione for one specific reason, and now that reason has been compromised, so it is time for me to find a better alternative.”
“Just what the hell is that supposed to mean!?” Narancia roared out. The teen launched himself onto the sidewalk, feet slamming against the stone with no care for who may overhear as he reached out and took hold of the blond.
He furiously shook Giorno’s shoulders without provoking any reaction from the teen. Giorno’s expression remained unresponsive and hollow.
“Answer me goddammit!”
“Narancia.”
Abbacchio spoke. It was the first time any of them had heard his voice since—
“Let him go.”
“But Abbac—”
“I said let him go.” The man growled from his seat before he hunched himself over once more to stare at the same pile of rope at his feet he had been for the last several minutes. “We don’t need him.”
Reluctantly, Narancia loosened his grip on the blond teen as Giorno backed away from him. This time, he offered a weary glance in their direction before running off, sprinting into the night in search of a new avenue to make his dream come to fruition.