Work Text:
Trish had been shocked to hear about Abbacchio’s death. It scared her to know that her father was so close. That her father was able to take out such a strong man she had grown so comfortable being around, so easily and so quickly.
Trish’s heart had broke in her chest watching Narancia shaking and curled into a ball on the couch in Coco Jumbo’s Stand. He chewed at his nail as he stared ahead at nothing. She wanted to go over to the young boy and comfort him but she didn’t know how. Or if it was even her place to. This was her own father’s actions after all. So she stayed silent and seated on the couch, keeping her head down and trying to ignore Mista’s silent crying from outside the turtle as he drove their boat to Rome. Narancia had joined him outside the turtle a little while ago after he had calmed down, leaving just the three of them inside.
Giorno and Abbacchio never got along. But as she watched Giorno, Trish knew that he was affected by the man’s death. They weren’t close and Abbacchio had barely started to tolerate Giorno’s presence when he was killed, but by reading the look on his face and in his eyes, Trish could see that Giorno was hurt.
The only person that seemed mostly unaffected by Abbachio’s death was Bucciarati. She was sitting beside him on the couch and watching as he typed away and searched for more of her father’s identity on his laptop other than just his name. And for any information about the man they had spoken though the laptop with, but his half of the connection was encrypted and Bucciarati couldn’t trace it. Bucciarati was the leader of his group, he called the shots and made the decisions, he had to be the strongest and the smartest. And that was exactly how Trish saw him. She trusted him and respected him more than anyone she had ever met in her life.
Bucciarati looked sideways at her after a moment gave a small gentle smile. “You should try and get some rest before we get to Rome, Trish.”
Trish looked up to him and she didn’t find the usual comforting gaze in his eyes like she always had before. There was something off about the look in his deep blue eyes. Trish gave a few small nods but didn’t move from beside him. “I’d like to watch you search for stuff about my father,” She heard how small her own voice was, “if you don’t mind.”
Bucciarati nodded and he continued searching for any sort of clue about Diavolo, about Stands, anything that could help them as they went into what felt like was going to be a serious fight against him. She was nervous but she wanted to be able to help her new friends in any way she could. Resting and trying to sleep now would do nothing for any of them. Abbacchio didn’t die just a few hours ago for her to curl up on the couch for a nap. He was gone because of her. She clenched her fist tightly remembering how useless she had been inside the turtle while Bucciarati was leading his group to save and protect her life. She wanted to do something this time if she could. She wanted to stand beside Bucciarati and help him.
Mista suddenly appeared inside the Stand room grabbing the attention of the group of three. He stumbled from the sudden change but regained his footing quickly. Trish’s heart ached seeing his dark eyes were rimmed red, like he had been rubbing them excessively. He sniffled and crouched by the mini fridge, he looked for a short moment then stood with a bottled drink in each hand. “Oi Narancia!” He called and tossed one of the drinks towards the ceiling. The bottle disappeared as it flew out of the room.
“Thanks Mista.” Trish heard Narancia call. Mista nodded silently.
Mista cracked his open and sighed heavily as he put a hand on his hip. “Did you find something about that other Stand user Bucciarati?” He asked.
Bucciarati shook his head without looking up. “Nothing I can’t trace his connection or anything.” His said in a low frustrated tone.
Mista frowned and took a sip from his drink. “Do you really think he’s on our side?”
Bucciarati looked up at him and Trish followed his gaze. Mista looked between them and Trish felt her shoulders relax from their tense position when Mista gave her a small reassuring smile. Bucciarati shook his head with a heavy sigh and scrubbed his face up and down with his hands. Trish watched the gesture and saw Giorno, who was seated at the other couch watch Bucciarati closely too.
The small action itself was unlike Bucciarati. And the others seemed the notice.
“I don’t know.” He lowered his hands and Trish followed them to where they rested on the keyboard if the laptop. Bucciarati looked around at his friends. “But we have no choice, we’ll get nowhere if we don’t take his help. And we need all the help we can get.” He looked back to the laptop and his hands started fidgeting with one another, his right hand twisting a ring on his left hand. “You may not agree with me but I believe this is the best course of action.”
Trish felt her mouth go dry. Her heart started the race in his chest pounding against her ribcage.
“No, I’m just asking. I’m just curious.” Mista shrugged one shoulder and looked away. “I- you always do what’s best so.” He cleared his throat with a cough. “I know you’re making the right choice it’s what I would do too.”
“I agree with Mista.” Giorno said.
Bucciarati nodded and looked between them. His gaze landed on Mista after a moment, “Were you able to see the coast yet?”
Mista shook his head. “Nothing. Just the sun was almost gone over the horizon.”
Bucciarati sighed and nodded in understanding. “Do you mind heading back out there? I don’t fully trust Narancia with a speed boat.” He gave a small smile and Mista smiled back.
“I heard that!” Narancia’s voice made Bucciarati chuckle.
“On it.” Mista headed back towards the chair they used to climb on and out of the Stand room.
“Bucciarati?” Trish asked as she stared at his hand. The others noticed her tone and turned to look at her quickly. Trish’s eyes were wide and she shifted her gaze to Bucciarrati. Heart shattering in her chest seeing his worried expression looking back at her seriously. She didn’t deserve any of the help he was willing to give her. He was too kind.
“Trish are you okay?” He asked quickly when she didn’t say anymore.
Mista turned hearing them and Giorno sat up straighter.
Trish bit her lip and she felt tears sting against the back of her eyes. She turned to him fully and watched as his hands stopped fidgeting, he watched her closely and looked her up and down.
“Trish-“
“Bucciarati.” Trish heard how quiet her voice was, she couldn’t speak any louder. “A-are you okay?” She emphasized her words.
Bucciarati frowned deeply as he stared at her. It was only then that Trish noticed how tired and exhausted he looked, purple bags forming under his eyes, his shoulders were slumped forward and she saw traces of blood on his bottom lip. Like he had been biting it excessively. He just looked so unlike himself. It was scary. Trish wanted to wrap her arms around him tightly. But it wasn’t her place.
Bucciarati shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand-“
“Your ring.” Trish bit her lip. Unable to stop herself. She knew she had no right and was probably overstepping her boundaries but she couldn’t help it.
Bucciarati froze at the words. He seemed to tense up and his mouth shut tightly. He stared at her and she felt the tears form in her eyes at his expression.
Mista was beyond confused at the exchange. He glanced back to Giorno who watched the pair with a soft and sad expression on his face. Mista only frowned deeper. Why the hell were they looking at Bucciarati like that? What had he missed?
“What? What the hell’s going on?” Mista asked turning his head back to Bucciarati. “Ring? What ring?”
Non of them looked at Mista. His question went ignored as Trish cautiously reached forward and took Bucciarati’s hand in hers. Her hand so much smaller then his. It was warm, like it had been when she held his hand in the elevator to meet her father. She needed comfort from him then, and how he was looking at her now, she knew he needed her now. She could see it in his blue eyes, even if he didn’t know himself. She squeezed his left hand.
Trish swallowed around the lump in her throat and blinked her eyes quickly. She tore her eyes away from his and looked down to his hand. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she got a good look at his hand.
A very thin, golden wedding band on his left ring finger.
Trish bit her lip as she looked at the ring. She was surprised to see how shiny it was against his tanned skin. Signifying that he hadn’t had it for very long, maybe only a year or so, maybe a little long. She was shocked that she never noticed it before now.
Trish flipped his hand over in hers and saw that it was very simple. It had no tiny diamonds on it and anything engraved into it. And it was very thin, which was the reason she had never noticed it before. She gave a faint smile as she brushed her thumb across the gold, twisting it around his finger.
Bucciarati’s breath caught slightly and he saw Giorno get to his feet and stand beside Mista. His fingers twitched watching her rub it, she looked to his face and quickly retracted her hand. What on earth had she been thinking?
“I’m sorry.” Trish whispered.
Bucciarati only blinked and looked down to his ring. Staring at it without moving a muscle, the laptop on his thighs powering down after not being used.
Trish put a hand on his forearm. The words fell from her lips before she could ever stop herself. She didn’t think of any Possible reactions, she just wanted answers to her questions. “He gave it to you,” Trish watched as Bucciarati’s expression remained unchanging. “A-Abbacchio I mean.”
Trish saw Mista tense at the words out of the corner of her eye. She looked and found tears in his eyes, Giorno had a heartbroken look across his face.
Bucciarati took a deep breath and he held the wedding band on his finger between his right index and thumb. He bit his bottom lip as he twisted the band and looked to the three who were watching him closely. Bucciarati nodded after a long time and Mista sucked in a deep breath.
“Yes, he did.” Bucciarati’s voice was small, barely audible in the still room.
“Abbacchio gave you a ring?” Mista whispered in question.
Bucciarati nodded and looked to the band affectionately.
Trish felt a tear roll down her cheek and collect on her jawline. “I-I knew you two were together. The way he looked at you, it was so obvious,” Trish said and Bucciarati closed his eyes at the words, head turning away slightly. “but I had no idea you were married-“
“Trish.” Girono’s voice startled her. “That’s enough.” His tone was light but she could tell that he was telling her it wasn’t her place. He stared at her, his eyes hard. A silent warning in them. She nodded after a moment and swallowed before looking back to Bucciarati.
“Bucciarati I-I’m so sorry I know I have no right-“
“We weren’t married.” Bucciarati’s voice quieted the room. “He proposed to me a few months ago.” He seemed to want to continue but blinked his eyes over and over. The other three could do nothing but watch at how Bucciarati turned his hand over back and forth as if to see the ring from every angle. He smiled as he looked at his ring, also no traces of sadness or hurt, only love in his eyes. “He proposed with this little ring promising he would’ve got a bigger one but he didn’t want to put us in danger for being together in the lives we live. He, he even told me not to wear it because he thought it could put me in danger.” Bucciarati sighed heavily, talking as if he was talking to himself. “I couldn’t help it, I haven’t taken it off since he got down on one knee. He was always a bit of a romantic, he rented a yacht and we gazed at the stars for hours just talking. When we were going back into the cabin he- he tugged my sleeve and I turned to see him drop to one knee.”
Trish’s tears were flowing down her cheeks at his story. It felt too intimate to be shared, but she wasn’t going to tell him to stop.
“I bought him one but he never wore it.” Bucciarati closed his eyes as he spoke, a small smile on his lips and his hands fidgeting with the small ring. “Which never bothered me, he didn’t like rings he said they always felt weird. I know he loves me, his heart belongs to me.” Bucciarati bit his bottom lip. “And mine is his.”
Trish’s heart broke at the present tense as he spoke. She could tell that he would never take off the ring that he had been given. He would remain loyal to the man he had promised to marry.
Mista wiped his face with his sleeve, he sniffled as tears were trailing down his cheeks. “I can’t believe I never noticed it before.” He spoke quietly.
Bucciarati opened his eyes, looking around at the others as if he had forgotten they were there. He was still for a moment then cleared his throat and looked away, hands clenching into fists before powering on the laptop again. He was biting his bottom lip. Trish felt her heart ache for him. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he was feeling, he wanted to cry out loud and go back to Abbacchio’s body to hold him, he wanted to scream and yell, he wanted to kill the Boss and cause him as much pain as he felt. But he pushed it aside, all for her sake. The most important thing in his mind currently was finding the Boss and killing him. Trish slowly outstretched her hand and placed it on his forearm.
Bucciarati didn’t spare he glance as typed into the laptop. Trish could feel his hands starting to shake.
“Bucciarati, if there is anything I can do-“
“There isn’t.” His tone was hard. Almost as if he was angry, but Trish knew he wasn’t. He was hurt more than anything. Heartbroken and doing his best to hide it. To deal with it later.
Trish only nodded and kept her hand on his forearm. She rubbed her hand back and forth and bowed her head, feeling awful suddenly for staring and watching him so closely for the past half an hour. Trish closed her eyes feeling him typing away as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t told them some of the most heartbreaking news they would ever hear.
Trish was startled when the familiar thump of someone entering the room sounded. She blinked her eyes quickly and watched as Mista and Giorno turned quickly to look behind them. Bucciarati raised his tired eyes.
Narancia stood in the centre of the room. His face blotchy red from crying, nose dripping with snot and tears dripping off his jaw. Eyes glassy red. “I-I heard everything.” He whipped his nose with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. Trish’s heart dropped watching Narancia’s expression crumble after a long time of silence and more tears trail from his eyes. He sobbed and ran to Bucciarati.
The laptop was knocked out of his lap and fell to the ground with a clatter. Narancia threw his shaking arms around Bucciarati’s body in a hug and dropped to his knees in front of him. He pressed the top of his head against Bucciarati’s chest and cried. His shoulders shaking from his sobs. His loud sobs echoing in the small room were louder then they had been while on the beach. The haunting cries making Giorno squeeze his eyes closed and Mista’s hands ball into fists as he turned his head away.
Bucciarati was frozen for a while in Narancia’s arms. But new tears filled Trish’s eyes watching Bucciarati slowly break. He squeezed his eyes closed and covered his mouth with a trembling hand. Bucciarati moved his hand to clench into a fist and pressed it between his eyes, salty tears forming tracks down his cheeks. He was biting his trembling bottom lip as he dropped his head and buried his face against Narancia’s shoulder. He started shaking violently from the force of his sobs he kept in his chest.
Mista fell back onto the chair behind him and covered his face in his hands as he doubled over and cried watching his friends. Giorno knelt beside the chair and placed a comforting hand on the middle of his back.
“I’m so sorry Bucciarati I’m so sorry.” Narancia cried over and over again. “You don’t deserve this, I’m so sorry.”
“I miss him so much.” Bucciarati’s voice was beyond broken. His words quiet, his voice wobbling and muffled against Narancia’s shoulder. “I loved him.” He sobbed and shook his head. “I left him on the beach all alone-“
Trish took one last look at the golden wedding band on her friend’s finger and covered her face with her hands as she cried. One thought running through her mind.
This was all her fault. His heartbreak was her fault.