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It was not easy for Bruno Bucciarati to admit to weakness. He had grown up being an anchor for his father, a Soldati in Passione, and a team leader before he reached the age of 20. He was, by practicality, strong; built to weather a storm, mentally and physically.
Or so he had thought, but he had to admit that coming back from the dead had been wearing. The wounds he had suffered could still be agonizing, and as stubborn as he was, sometimes his body had other ideas.
It had started with a dull ache in the middle of his back the night before, and had kept him up for a while, making it hard to find a comfortable position to sleep in. His dreams when he finally did sleep, were filled with agony, memories of King Crimson's fist slamming through his middle, cleaving into his shoulder.
The pain pulled him awake with a soft cry, but unlike usual, it followed him into consciousness, making it hard to breathe.
Bruno tried to roll over and push himself up, but his arm was numb from pain emanating from his shoulder, and he felt like he had a spear through his stomach. He let out a breathless gasp, sinking onto his side again, trying to breathe through the sudden pain.
It hadn't been this bad since he'd first woken up after they'd killed Diavolo. Giorno's Gold Experience had repaired the physical damage to the best of its ability, but perhaps the healing process was taking longer than he'd realized.
After quelling the pain slightly, Bucciarati inhaled slowly and tried to get up again to head into the bathroom but he barely got his legs over the side of the bed before pain lanced through his body again and he slumped to the floor with a breathless gasp, arms wrapping around himself.
This was nearly as bad as experiencing the wound all over again, but this time he didn't have the adrenaline of terror. Just pure exhaustion and pain.
A brief flash of dread washed over him as he wondered if the wounds were returning, if Gold Experience's healing had only been temporary but he swallowed it down. He wasn't bleeding, his heart was still beating firmly, and it wasn't like he hadn't been feeling small pains here and there. It was only to be expected after such grievous injuries. Honestly, he felt better knowing he could feel something when the alternative was so much more terrifying.
Still, the fact was he couldn't move without the pain squeezing the breath from his lungs. He couldn't even get any pain medicine.
Desperation won out over stubbornness and he reached for the phone on his bedside table. It was still early, before dawn, but Abbacchio was usually up, hopefully with his phone on him.
The phone picked up after a few rings with Abbacchio's groggy voice. "Aren't you home?"
"I am," Bruno said, voice strained. "I just…need some help. Can you come to my room?"
The call was ended and Bruno focused on breathing as he lay there, hearing Abbacchio's footsteps outside before he opened the door, freezing as he took in the scene.
"Bruno!" he cried before rushing forward, crouching down beside Bucciarati with a worried look. "What the hell happened?"
"I…I'm in a lot of pain right now, can you help me up?" He started to push himself onto an elbow, but the pain returned to cut through him again and he gasped, curling around himself again.
"What pain? Did you throw your back out or something? Is it your stomach?"
Bucciarati waved him off, not having enough breath to answer. "Bed," he breathed.
Abbacchio pressed his lips into a thin line and carefully got his arms under Bucciarati's, easing him up in a steady motion. Bruno gritted his teeth and was unable to stop a whimper escaping him as he was pulled upright, the pain so intense he nearly went light-headed.
He felt briefly weightless as Abbacchio picked him up completely and set him back down.
"Hold on," the other man murmured and walked away briefly.
Bruno breathed through the pain and dizziness until he felt the dip on the side of the bed hailing Abbacchio's return. The other man pressed a cool cloth to his face before settling it over his forehead and eyes.
"Just stay still and breathe until you can explain what you need," Abbacchio told him softly, the worry apparent in his voice. "Should I get Giorno?"
Bruno shook his head briefly, swallowing back the nausea that pain had caused. "Later." He took another slow breath before he said. "It's my injuries. They just started to really bother me."
He felt Abbacchio's hand close around his wrist, fingers pressed to his pulse. Bruno shook his head. "'M fine. It's…wouldn't feel this much pain if I were dead."
"That's not even funny," Abbacchio snapped, but he kept his hand around Bruno's arm, just anchoring him now. "I get it too, you know. The phantom pain. Not quite this bad, but there's a reason I go to bed early sometimes." His hand subconsciously went to his chest, clutching in the black t-shirt he wore.
Bruno furrowed his brow, hating that Abbacchio had never told anyone. Though there were a few days he looked a little stiff.
"Can you please get me some pain pills?" he asked.
Abbacchio left and came back with a pill bottle and glass of water. Bruno attempted to push himself onto his elbows, but that just sent a new wave of agony through him.
"Hey, stop trying to move," Abbacchio snapped, setting the items on the bedside table and quickly grabbing an extra pillow, slipping an arm under Bruno's shoulders and lifting him to slip the pillow behind him to prop him up. Bruno settled with a shuddering sigh.
"Here." Abbacchio took his hand and placed the medicine into his palm. Bruno swallowed the pills down and allowed Abbacchio to hold the glass of water while he drank before sinking back against the pillows, trying to ease the ache in his shoulder and middle.
"Now just relax and let those work," Abbacchio told him. "Can I get you anything else?"
Bruno shook his head, letting his eyes slide shut. He felt like the pain had taken all his energy away.
"What do I do if this doesn't get better?" he murmured.
Abbacchio sat carefully on the side of his bed again. "It will. Give yourself time. It's only been two weeks since you came back from the dead and you push yourself too much. You need to take it easy. Give your body time to heal properly." He sighed. "If you do, so will I. We can try to be better about it together."
Bruno tilted his head back into a more comfortable position. "You're right. Thank you, Leone."
Abbacchio squeezed his good shoulder and stood up. "I'm going to go make coffee. Can I get you some?"
"Maybe later."
Bruno drifted in a half-asleep state, just concentrating on letting his body relax. He knew Abbacchio was right, but it was so hard for him to accept that he could take a day—or two—to rest. There was so much to do with their new position in Passione, that it seemed impossible.
But, he also knew that it wouldn't do anyone any good if he was bedridden because he kept exacerbating the problem.
He was somewhat surprised when Giorno came in a little later, still in his pajamas, a worried expression on his face.
"Abbacchio said your injuries were acting up," he said.
"I seem to be experiencing some phantom pain," Bruno admitted, voice still annoyingly weak to his ear.
Giorno frowned and came to sit on the side of his bed. "May I take a look?"
Bruno nodded and half-heartedly helped Giorno lift his loose sleep shirt to expose the scar in the center of his torso. Completely healed, but leaving a light pink patch in his tanned skin.
Giorno's hand was superimposed with Gold Experience's as he lightly rested his palm against the scar, closing his eyes.
Bruno could feel the warmth of the Stand's power flowing through him, relaxing him slightly before Giorno pulled away.
"There's no…damage, exactly, but phantom pain is something that can be experienced with any wound."
"I'm not unfamiliar," Bruno replied. "My other shoulder can get bad on wet days."
Giorno nodded. "Narancia had an episode the other night too. I…don't think it's anything to worry about. But." He straightened his shoulders. "As your new Boss, I will order you to stay in bed and get some proper rest if I have to."
Bruno blinked, mouth parted slightly. "I…" he started then sighed. "I suppose that's fair."
Giorno gave him a tentative smile. "It's just a firm suggestion. But Abbacchio did say something about chaining you to the bed if you refused."
Bruno let out a soft laugh. "I promise I will ask for help if I need to get up."
Giorno nodded in agreement and stood. "I don't really understand what Requiem did but it promised that the three of you were fully alive and functioning again."
"I'm not worried. I just…I'm not very good at convalescing," Bruno admitted.
"Well, most of what we're doing right now is organizing and looking through years and years' worth of files," Giorno said. "If you really feel up to working that's certainly something you can do from bed."
Bruno smiled, grateful as Giorno rested a hand on his shoulder. "But today, you rest."
"Fair enough," Bucciarati said.
The door was opened then and Mista poked his head in. "Hey, I just brought some breakfast for you. You feel up to eating?"
Bruno smiled wearily but waved Mista in. "I probably should. Thank you, Mista."
Mista settled a tray over his lap. "You don't have to eat all of it, but I tried to make stuff that would give you energy and be easy on your stomach."
Bruno nodded gratefully and started eating, noticing the nausea had mostly gone away by the time he was done.
Not long after Mista retrieved the empty breakfast dishes, Trish and Narancia showed up with a fluffy blanket and extra pillows.
"How are you feeling?" Trish asked quietly.
"Not as bad as I was," Bruno replied honestly. "But I've been told to rest for the day."
"Which you should!" Narancia told him insistently, crawling onto the bed beside him, depositing the pillows. "My wounds act up too, and it sucks, so I get it."
Trish smiled as she tucked the fuzzy blanket over Bruno. "Let us know if we can help make you more comfortable."
"You're all doing more than enough," Bruno assured them, genuinely touched by the care his famiglia was displaying toward him.
Fugo showed up next with some books. "In case you need something to do," he said. "Or I can put some music on for you."
"I think I'm going to rest for now," Bruno told him, starting to feel exhaustion pulling at him. "But I appreciate it, Fugo."
He was a lot more comfortable than he had been that morning and after the terrible night of sleep he'd had, it was easier to doze off than he thought it would be.
When he woke, it was to the rest of the team gathered in his room, asleep themselves. Narancia and Trish both lay on the other side of his bed, Giorno curled up at the foot, Mista's sat on the floor with his head tipped back against the mattress in what was probably not a comfortable position. Abbacchio and Fugo sat on the chaise in one corner of the room, the teen asleep on Abbacchio's shoulder as the older man's head rested against Fugo's.
It was such a comforting sight that Bruno felt a well of emotion rise in his throat, a sudden rush of gratitude that he was blessed with such a wonderful family.
Certain he would be able to recover nicely with all the care they provided, he allowed himself to fall asleep, comforted by the closeness of his loved ones.