Archive of Our Own

A lone child walks along the edge of the alley, away from most of the crowd. His coat, a size too big for him, makes the child waddle as he walks without purpose. Without a set direction, without a goal.

Most children would be scared at such a young age of four years old. Wandering a crowded street without any sort of guardian to guide them. But Haruno was used to this, either waltzing out of the house or having his mom leave him accidentally somewhere, and not bothering to grab him until the cops personally escorted him home.

Haruno couldn't understand much at four years old. But he could understand a few things other children don't.

Crying is useless.

Haruno hasn't shed a single tear since he learned that fact. Crying is a waste of time, and so is trying to talk to those around him, who refuse to listen. Or perhaps it was from his mother's neglect to teach him anything that he still cannot speak properly at four.

Another thing that made him different was that he was a girl. Of course, a child cannot fully grasp the concept of such a difficult topic as gender identity. Haruno liked his hair short; he liked being referred to as a boy, that was all he knew. However, when his mother was around, she seemed to get angry at such a thing, not as angry as his stepdad, however. Never as angry as his stepdad, over anything really.

Haruno didn't have any friends; the concept was foreign to him. Whilst living such a short life, he has faced nothing but hostility. And yet, he doesn't cry. Because he knows it's useless.

He had wandered into another alley, seeing a stray cat. A child can only be curious, no matter the danger. The cat spotted him and hissed. Haruno didn't take any offense. The cat was scrawny, ragged, and injured. Haruno could not wrap his little head around the concept of the cat not exactly hating him, but being scared. And even so, Haruno didn't hate the cat that scowled at him with nothing but hostility.

Haruno watched it scatter away, his hand still somewhat extended. He stood near the trash that the hideous but beloved little creature had been rummaging through. But he quickly retracted his hands, not exactly flinching as he saw the shadow of someone approaching from behind. He turned to face them, hesitantly, anxiety pooling in his stomach.

He looked up at a teenager who looked down to meet his gaze. The teenager had long blonde hair, his bangs rolled into a strange rose-like shape on his forehead. The teenager stared down at Haruno with a complicated expression.

Giorno… Couldn't necessarily explain what he was looking at… or who, exactly. He blinked a few times, wondering if he had gone crazy from the scorching Naples heat, if this was a sign to stop by a restaurant or ice cream shop and get a refresher.

He had to either be going insane, or perhaps this truly was just some random kid that looked eerily like him when he was young. That had to be it; a lot of kids tend to look the same. His first instinct was to make this staring contest with what appeared to be a four-year-old less awkward.

"Um… hey.." Giorno started. "You… look a little young to be wandering the streets like this all alone, are you.. lost?" He asked hesitantly, not really sure where he was going with this.

The child didn't respond, he just stared up at the unfamiliar teenager with big green eyes, that have seen too much for his age. As if assessing potential danger.

Giorno crouched down, trying to meet his level, knees up to his chest.

"Are your parents around? Are you lost?" Giorno tried again.

"…Not lost." The child spoke, his tone quiet and avoidant. Giorno blinked a few times before finding his voice again.

"You… came here on purpose?"

"..uhn." The child made a noise as confirmation.

"Do your parents know you're here? It's rather dangerous in such a place as this." Giorno spoke, trying to remain eye level with the child.

"..Not lost." The child repeated. "They don't care."

"…I see." Giorno didn't question further than that. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew everything already, because he used to wander into this exact alley all the time as a child, with the same reasoning as the child in front of him.

He knew, he knew this was related to their interaction with that traitor within Passione's upper ranks, that freaked out and attempted to use his stand on Giorno before escaping. Giorno was under the impression that whatever the man tried didn't work. But his mind and his ability to connect things were too sharp.

He had no proof, of course. The traitor in question didn't have any documented standing, meaning they didn't know his ability; they only figured it out when he tried to betray Passione by attempting to assassinate Bucciarati personally.

Giorno felt like he knew already, but he needed proof, and he needed confirmation. He needed to examine this child further.

A long period of silence overcame the teenager and the child, neither saying anything except for just staring at each other.

"So.. uhm, what is your name?" Giorno tried speaking.

The child fiddled with his little fingers, eyes darting off to the side, showing signs of discomfort. Giorno kept his distance.

"..Haruno." The child spoke. That confirmed everything Giorno needed to know so far. This kid was, in fact, Giorno, but now Giorno needed proof that this was the result of a stand; he could not go throwing that kind of bias around, because he could be wrong about the traitor being the cause.

"Haruno, alright then. I'm Giorno," Giorno pointed to himself, keeping himself on the same level as Haruno.

"…Giorno?" Haruno repeated, testing the name on his tongue as if he were a food critic, unsure of what he was tasting.

"I'm fifteen, what about you, Haruno?" Giorno desperately tried to connect with this child in any way possible; he needed to bring him back. Attempting to kidnap a child, let alone that child being himself, was incredibly strange and was not on his original bucket list.

The child looked at his fingers, pausing for a minute, before sticking up his hand and showing Giorno four fingers without a word.

"..Four?" Giorno questioned, earning an eager nod from the child. "Ah, alright then." Giorno wanted to move on to something that could possibly move them forward.

"Do you always come here?" Giorno asked, and Haruno nodded. "That's cool.. I like coming here too." Giorno said. It was technically the truth; he came here all the time as a child to get away from his home.

"You… like it?" Haruno questioned, Giorno nodded.

"I used to come here when things got too much for me to handle. What about you?" Giorno asked, his legs were starting to strain and cramp from how he was crouched.

"…I do too. When my daddy gets mad." Haruno said, glancing at the dumpster where the cat had run from him once was. "..Or when I feel like leaving, my mama never stopped me."

Giorno finally sat down on the dirty pavement, his legs starting to agitate him; perhaps if he were in a more relaxed position, it might ease Haruno up.

"Do you ever feel like you never want to go back, Haruno?" Giorno asked with a smoother tone; he didn't intend to be blunt or get straight to the point. He had never kidnapped a child before, so he wasn't quite sure how to go about this.

"…Mn, yeah. I guess. But if I stay for too long, I get hungry. And it gets cold." Haruno said he was starting to get

"Well, that's unfortunate. If you could go to a place, like a new house, with nice people and good food, would you want to stay there instead?"

'Real fucking smooth, you sound like a pedophile.' Giorno thought to himself.

"..I wanna," Haruno responded. Giorno promptly cringes at himself for how he's going through with this.

"I could.. Take you there, we can be friends." Giorno said, once again making a face at himself for how he sounded.

Haruno met Giorno's eyes yet again. Blinking up at him. "I wanna." He repeated.

'Well, that was rather easy,' Giorno thought. He didn't feel good about it. It was surprisingly easy to kidnap a four-year-old without dragging them by force.

"..Okay, let's go then, come on, Haruno, I'll take you there."

There wasn't any kind of car seat in Bucciarati's car, for obvious reasons. Giorno wasn't the best driver; the others seemed to have him as the last possible option for operating the car. Actually, no, that was wrong; Narancia was beneath him in that role.

Giorno was an okay driver. Bucciarati didn't ban him from using the car without supervision, as he did with Narancia; he was fine with Giorno driving it by himself, which says something.

He buckled Haruno in the back; he looked rather awkward being seated without a car seat of some kind, considering how tiny he was. Haruno was rather willing to follow Giorno without question; it was unnerving. Was he really this gullible as a kid? How the hell did he not get kidnapped?

In a really weird way, Giorno wishes Haruno had fought back, even just a little bit, or even refused him at first. But Haruno agreed so easily and so quickly, and followed Giorno without complaint; it was disturbing.

The car ride was silent, he had allowed Haruno to sit in the passengers seat, not really knowing how to entertain a four year old, he let him browse through some old word games that Narancia never finished in a torn up newspaper from three months ago, that he had found in the back of the car, crumpled on the floor next to an old McDonald's fry box.

The car was anything but clean and pretty; the front bumper was just straight up missing, the engine made weird whistling noises every time the car ran, the windshield wipers didn't work, and one of the windows had an abundance of bullet holes from when Narancia tried to be funny with his stand. With all the money Bucciarati had at his disposal since becoming don, Giorno wonders why he never got anything fixed.

Haruno didn't seem to care, despite the car reeking of cigarettes and the back being a complete nightmare of takeout bags, clothes, paper, and crumbs, and the front included. Haruno didn't seem to care.

Giorno wasn't raised in a poor household by any means; his mother and father were well-off, had a nice car, and most everything was mostly clean, and their house even had a pool in the back, which Giorno never went into because nobody cared enough to teach him how to swim.

Giorno tried to keep his focus on the road, rather than getting lost in his mind. He began to wonder how the others would take Giorno walking in with a child he had abducted off the streets. Let alone that child being Giorno.

Giorno made an absentminded move to remove his drink from the cupholder and take a sip, Haruno gazed up at him from the trashed newspaper with those dead but big green eyes.

"What's that?" Haruno asked.

"What's what?" Giorno inquired

"Your drink." Haruno clarified. Was the kid trying to make a conversation? Couldn't be, Giorno thought back to how he acted as a child, perhaps Haruno was just trying to decode and understand him better.

"Oh, uh, it's just coffee," Giorno responded. Haruno didn't say anything in response; he just tilted his head back down and continued trying to solve whatever puzzle in the newspaper that Giorno had fished out.

It really was eerie, this entire situation was. It made Giorno's stomach churn from anxiety. Seeing yourself as a child and even talking to them is an experience that could only rouse that kind of emotion at first. Especially when you have to act like that child is a different person, when in reality, they're not.

Giorno felt himself getting distracted, realizing so when he accidentally drove on the wrong side of the road for a few seconds. In turn, he turned on the radio, at a quiet volume, to try and keep himself stabilized, and not get banned from driving Bucciarati's car.

Giorno exited the car once they pulled into the driveway, shuffling to the other side and opening the passenger door. He leaned over to unbuckle Haruno. Haruno didn't flinch or anything; he seemed rather content with going with a stranger who didn't offer much to take him away from what he knew.

"Haruno, can you raise your arms for me?" Giorno asked in a lighter tone. Haruno didn't question it and raised his arms. Giorno wrapped both hands around either side of Haruno's torso and slowly lifted him up, letting the child sit in his arms as he carried him. Haruno didn't move and kept quiet, small hands planted on Giorno's lower front shoulder.

Giorno hesitated at the front door; he didn't know if anyone was in the main room or if they were all scattered. Even if it was just one person, word would spread in a millisecond. He gently opened the door.

The sight he was met with was Abbacchio passed out on the couch, and Mista flipping through a magazine at the dining table. Upon the door opening, Mista froze and stared at Giorno.

"Good afternoon, I see you didn't clean up the kitchen as I requested," Giorno said casually, refusing to address the elephant in the room.

Mista blinked; he couldn't even bother to defend himself or make an excuse, because he was eyeing down what, or rather, who. Giorno had just brought into the house.

"Giorno… What the hell is that?" Mista finally found his voice.

"What's what?" Giorno deflected.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Please clean the kitchen as I asked."

"I think you do."

"I don't. Please clean the kitchen." Giorno repeated, waltzing straight past him and ascending the stairs to get to his bedroom without so much as a glance towards Mista's direction. Haruno didn't say anything about the interaction, just stared at Mista with curious eyes as they retreated. The last thing Giorno ever processed before ignoring him completely was Mista's protest and demand for what he had just brought back from his "Coffee run."

Giorno swiftly turned into his room and shut the door behind him, locking it. Giorno's bedroom wasn't what you would usually expect from someone like him, with tapestries and posters lining up every inch of the wall. Wherever a wall was left plain, it was painted. Giorno was a teenager after all, he never kept things plain and boring. Mista once described this room as an American hippie den.

There was an incense holder on the left-hand side of his nightstand, right by a bookshelf that was filled to the brim with large books that Haruno most likely wouldn't be able to read. Horror, dystopian, Classic literature, romance, the whole sort.

Giorno never used the main ceiling light; the room was always illuminated by the hanging fairy lights connecting his wall and ceiling and dropping down some of the tapestries, or the lamps on his nightstand or desk. He always considered the main light to be too harsh and too bright, usually ruining the mood of his room.

Haruno ogled the surroundings; it felt strange. His bedroom was so plain, with nothing in it, and he rarely saw his parents' bedroom, but when he did, it was plain too, though with more care put into it than Haruno's.

Giorno set Haruno down on the bed, silk sheets instead of what was considered normal bedsheets for most. Giorno always preferred these as it was more comfortable and better for the hair to rest on without waking up completely matted. It was another thing Mista ripped on him for.

The child was beyond dirty, probably hadn't been bathed in a while. Giorno remembers how his mother failed to care for him until she absolutely needed to, which included barely eating anything until Haruno was begging. And bathing only happened once every few days when his mother started to get grossed out by how her child looked.

Giorno's mother, who was she? quite the woman. Never really cared for Giorno, watched from the sidelines as he was mercilessly abused, and let Giorno wander the streets without a care in the world. One time, Giorno watched as she smoked three cigarettes in less than a minute on a car ride, then proceeded to forget him at a gas station until the cops took him back home.

Giorno usually never let anyone on his bed; Mista and Fugo were the only exceptions, and Giorno always washed his sheets directly after. He had always been some sort of a neat freak; perhaps it's the trauma? Who knows.

Giorno kind of stood over the bed Haruno sat on, not really knowing what to do next. He wasn't planning on getting this far. He wishes Haruno had resisted and run away, calling stranger danger, but at the same time, this was an ability that cannot go unnoticed. Perhaps Haruno's lack of self-preservation came from the fact that his mother never bothered to teach him anything.

"Is this your home?" Haruno asked, kicking his feet off the side of the bed, feeling no sense of danger whatsoever, even though he's in an unfamiliar environment with an unfamiliar person.

"It is," Giorno responded.

"Who's that downstairs? Is he your friend?" Haruno asked.

"He is. There are a lot of people in this house, me included." Giorno responded, which seemed to make Haruno tense up a bit.

"…Here.' Giorno crouched down. "Haruno, let's be friends, okay? If I'm your friend, everyone else will be too."

"…Friend?" Haruno asked with uncertainty, doubt covering his tone. How was it just now that his self-preservation began to kick in?!

Chances are, Mista already snitched to Bruno that he came in with a filth-covered child and refused to elaborate before locking himself in his room; he would expect a knock at his bedroom door any minute now.

"Of course." Giorno gently grasped his hand, "Can I see your pinky?"

Haruno made a noise and stuck his pinky out. Giorno wrapped his own pinky around it.

"This is called a pinky promise. Okay? When you do this, or when I do this, it means that the truth has been settled, and won't be broken." Giorno explained. "So, I pinky promise that I am your friend." Giorno finished.

Haruno remained quiet; he still looked doubtful, but he relaxed just a bit, keeping his hand in place, until Giorno removed his own. Standing back up, he really wasn't sure what to do next; all he could really do was wait until Bruno came over, or seek him out himself.

The child needed a bath, but that would take time. Not like they had any clothes in his size, meaning there needed to be an extra wait for them to wash and dry. Giorno scavenged his vanity desk, finding something that could clean the kid up even just a little bit.

Makeup wipes and a hair comb, this would be fine temporarily. He only needed a few minutes. He shuffled back over.

"Stay still just for a second, okay, Haruno?"

"Okay."

Giorno was gentle; children's skin could be easily irritated, wiping dirt off of Haruno's face and hands. It got the dirt off, and that was all that mattered. For a moment, he was distracted from the fact that this child was himself, but each time he focused again, he would be reminded. And it welled a disturbing feeling in his gut, something this uncanny should never happen, and Giorno wasn't exactly a fan of looking deep into his past.

A knock at the door tore him out of his thoughts, that familiar style and rhythm of knocking only Bruno had. Giorno's suspicions were correct; Mista did snitch, meaning Giorno didn't have to seek him out on his own.

"Haruno, stay here for just a second, okay? I'll be back." Giorno said quietly. Haruno just nodded and stayed put before Giorno darted towards the door.

When the door opened, Bruno barely even got a word out before Giorno leapt and shut the door behind him. Bruno blinked, and when he tried to speak again, Giorno interrupted.

"The hallway is rather messy and boring. Why don't we talk in your office?" Giorno said.

"Giorno.. wha-" Bruno was interrupted again by Giorno walking straight past him and to his office door. Bruno just sighed and followed suit. The two shuffled in, and Giorno closed the door behind him. They couldn't talk in Giorno's room because Haruno would hear, and the walls were thin, so talking in the hallway could be risky.

"Giorno," Bruno said firmly. "Mista told me—"

"About the child? Yes, I know, you'll get an explanation." Giorno interrupted, for the third time, and it finally started to get on Bruno's nerves.

"Usually, bosses fire their employees when they show disrespect like this. Will you stop interrupting me?"

"You're not gonna fire me, and I think I deserve a raise for how polite I'm being." Giorno fired back. Was that sass? Maybe Abbacchio was right about Giorno's attitude problem.

"—Anyway, I brought that child in because I believe he has something to do with that stand user we exiled." Giorno began to explain. "Abbacchio said all that they could figure out before they lost him was that his ability had to do with timeline jumping, right?" Giorno asked for clarification.

"Ah, that's right. After we sent Risotto and his division to investigate, we learned that his stand could place himself or others in separate timelines." Bruno confirmed.

"When I got hit by one of his blasts, I thought nothing had happened. It was a half-assed panic defense attack." Giorno began to explain. "That kid that I brought home.. Might have been what happened. That child is me when I was four years old."

"…Ah, that's uncanny," Bruno said after a moment of silence. He didn't doubt Giorno at all. "and… problematic, The house of the Don and his subordinates isn't exactly where a child should be."

"Thank you for understanding," Giorno said flatly. "I believe my findings can be useful in tracking him down and understanding his abilities, considering he wasn't documented as a stand user when in the organization."

"..Another thing, Giorno. If this child is placed here, he can't exactly go back to where his parents are. Considering his parents are yours, and they watched you grow until you abandoned them in your teenage years. If he shows up at their doorstep, they're going to freak out." Bruno spoke

"..I was thinking the same thing, I'm not exactly sure what to do with him. And raising him isn't a good idea considering… he's… me."

"…I'm sure we'll figure it out." Bruno pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, I'll go alert the others. Do your best to take care of him today. I want to see him and speak to him later." Bruno concluded. Giorno stood still for a moment.

"…That means you're dismissed, Giorno." Bruno clarified.

"So no raise?"

"Get out of my office."

Giorno ended up bathing Haruno; the others were promptly notified of a child in the house, and who that child was. So Haruno was allowed to come downstairs with Giorno without the others being weirded out or startled.

Giorno awkwardly sat on the closed toilet next to the bath with his sleeves rolled up, and Haruno had his knees up to his chest, slapping at some of the bubbles Giorno had put in. While Giorno supervised him, he handed Haruno's clothes off to Bruno to get washed in the laundry room. Giorno just sat there for a moment. He wanted Haruno to relax completely before scrubbing him. Considering he knew how Haruno didn't have the best experience being touched by anyone in his life.

Giorno knew this fact better than anyone, for reasons that need no repetition. He knew how he acted, and he knew how things worked. Before picking up Haruno, he always made him lift his arms as a signal. He never placed a hand on him without making his presence known. Giorno always kept his voice down and found his methods worked better when he crouched down to Haruno's level.

The one thing Giorno didn't understand was how Haruno was taking it so well. He never thought about how he would react to someone being kind to him at that age; he was so sure he had accepted the fact that nobody was meant to be nice to him when he was that young. He wasn't sure how he would react, so someone willing to be his friend, that was the only part of Haruno that Giorno could not understand.\

'Why was he so willing? Why did he trust me so fast? Was I that desperate as a kid?'

The more he thought about it, the more it discomforted him. He never really considered his old life to be awful, because he never thought about it. He had a dorm in school, and his childhood was mostly a blur. To meet his younger self was to be hit in the gut with a deranged reality he never admitted.

He thinks back to the things he had said to others, remembering how he always seemed to water it down, because he truly believed it wasn't that bad, but he began to think that the only reason he thought that way was because of how repressed his memories and emotions are. And he would rather just not think about it.

He finally left his seat on the toilet and sat on the floor of the bathroom. He gazed at Haruno, who had no idea just who was the one caring for him right now, and dread pooled harder in his gut. Haruno stopped messing around with the bubbles to look at him back; neither of them said anything.

Giorno repressed a shaky sigh and made the first move. slowly reaching over, so that Haruno had enough time to process that Giorno was about to touch him again. Giorno worked delicately, getting the grime off the neglected and dirty child. Haruno didn't resist; it seems the child came to terms with the fact that he was being helped.

Haruno was obedient and listened to everything Giorno told him, without any complaints. Giorno knew why; he didn't like the fact that he knew why, but he knew it regardless. He bit his lip, fang making his lip bleed slightly, which seemed to startle Haruno.

"Ah, sorry. My teeth are a little sharp, and I hurt myself sometimes; it's okay. Just an accident." Giorno quickly tried to ease it up, showing Haruno his fangs. It didn't seem to scare Haruno; Giorno knew it wouldn't. Haruno was more mesmerized by the fact that a person could have sharp teeth like that.

"Do you bite yourself a lot?" Haruno asked. "I bite myself sometimes, too, not on purpose."

"I never do it on purpose either," Giorno said, engaging in this childish conversation to keep Haruno's demeanor lightened up.

"Do you bite other people?" Haruno asked.

"Ah.. No, I have not." Giorno responded.

"If I had sharp teeth like that, I would bite my dad, probably," Haruno said.

"…Ah." Giorno didn't know how to respond to that.

"I want to see him bleed sometimes."

"Haruno, let's talk about something else, okay?" Giorno was getting very uncomfortable, very fast.

Giorno worked delicately to dry off Haruno with a towel. Bruno had sent Abbacchio off on an emergency errand a little bit ago to go get children's clothes, considering they couldn't exactly live off one pair. He had come back home before Haruno was done, thank god.

"Do you ever wish you could bite your mommy and daddy?" Haruno had not let this topic die down, much to Giorno's dismay.

Giorno didn't want to think about his parents; he harbored no Ill feelings towards them, he considered them long-gone strangers. He didn't want to consider it any harder than that. But the way Haruno.. Himself. Talked about them, made Giorno develop some long-ignored feelings in his gut.

"..Haruno, please drop this topic, it's not appropriate," Giorno said, and Haruno seemed to shy away.

"…Sorry," Haruno said, looking guilty. Giorno feels his tone may have been too condescending.

"It's okay, don't feel guilty, mistakes happen."

"My mommy says I'm a mistake sometimes," Haruno said. It seems children just like to say whatever comes to mind without much thought. Despite just being told not to, Giorno learned that very quickly against his own will.

Giorno tried to ignore Haruno's depressing and condescending statements, said in such an oblivious tone. And dressed him without complaint, Giorno would probably have to try to teach him about boundaries.

After bringing Haruno back to his bedroom, it seems the child figured out he was tired. and absentmindedly tried to climb back on the bed, with little to no success. So Giorno helped him up and let him lie down. Children tended to subconsciously fight sleep no matter what, and that was what Haruno was doing. Eyes fluttering open and closed, stiffening up and relaxing. Giorno put a hand on his back and rubbed it soothingly, not berating Haruno for not just going to sleep as his stepfather would have.

In Giorno's queen-sized bed, Haruno looked like a small lump under the covers. It was rather endearing; it reminded Giorno of those photos online of perfectly made beds and a cat sleeping under the covers, making a small lump in the bed.

Haruno's black hair stuck out from under the covers, spreading on the pillow; his face was still visible, but barely. When Haruno stopped wriggling, Giorno slowly removed his hand. Haruno not protesting or wriggling more was a sign he had lost to slumber.

Giorno took this as a sign; he was going to leave, but not for long. He wanted to be there when Haruno woke up again. He stood up, keeping the door cracked open, and left. He wandered down the stairs, eyes out for an extremely specific person.

His heart fluttered when he found him, currently shaking around and hitting the coffee machine.

"Piece of shit! Fucking Clanker!" Fugo shouted, taking his frustrations out on an unsuspecting coffee machine. How endearing.

"Is… everything okay?" Giorno asked, coming up behind him, and looking down at the pitiful state of what used to be their saving grace every morning.

"Thing's busted," Fugo grumbled, giving it one last smack. "…It was busted before I started hitting it, if you must know." He decided to clarify.

"I believe you," Giorno said. "It's about time; that thing has been on its last leg for a while. But.. It's four P.M, why are you even getting coffee?"

"..I dunno, just wanted some, I guess." Fugo shrugged. "Abbacchio's not gonna be happy." He released himself from the counter and finally made his way over to Giorno, who smiled up at him. Despite Fugo's outburst and racial transgressions against the coffee machine, it didn't really bother Giorno.

"In any case, Bruno told me what happened, about the kid or whatever." Fugo changed the topic. "He with you?"

"In my room, he's asleep, so I decided to come down here for a little bit. I'm probably not going to be down here for long. I just wanted to make something to eat, and… also see if I could find you." Giorno took a step closer, smile not wavering. Fugos' face softened, and he smiled back.

"Well, you found me. What are you gonna do now?" Fugo inquired, almost challenging Giorno. Giorno didn't respond, taking Fugo's scarred cheek in his hand, rubbing it gently, as he pressed a kiss to his lips.

If anyone else were around, neither of them would have done this. Public display of affection was uncomfortable for both of them. But everyone else was held up or out of the house. He vaguely remembers Bruno sending Narancia and Mista out to intercept a drug deal a little bit ago.

The kiss lasted longer than either would like to admit, with lips pressing and releasing against each other. It wasn't open-mouthed, but they kept breaking away just to connect again. Eventually, all good things had to come to an end.

Fugo's hand had wrapped around Giorno's waist when they broke apart, and they slowly slid off of each other. They didn't say much to one another, and Giorno started scavenging through the cabinets and fridge. He wanted to be quick; he remembers that he wasn't exactly a still sleeper as a kid, constantly waking up.

"Do you want to come with me, Panna?" Giorno asked, pulling out a frozen pizza from the freezer. It was Mista's, but Giorno took it anyway; he considered it fair since Mista had stolen the salad (That had his name on it, by the way.) The previous day, Giorno was looking forward to eating it for lunch.

"To your room? With the kid?" Fugo asked for clarification.

"Yeah, I'm sure he won't mind. As long as I'm the one closest to him, I think he will be okay." Giorno said, sliding it into the oven and setting a timer.

"Alright, fine by me. I'll take any excuse to spend some time with you." Fugo agreed, shrugging.

The two ascended back up the stairs, talking quietly. Giorno kept his door open, so he would be able to hear the oven timer go off. Fugo's eyes immediately darted toward the lump in Giorno's bed; he had a pretty good guess as to what that was.

Giorno sat on the opposite side of the bed as the lump and motioned for Fugo to come join him, and without any complaint, because why would he? Fugo did. He immediately took Giornos ' hand in his own, their fingers intertwining sweetly.

They pressed up against each other while seated on the bed, Giornos head lying on his shoulder, and Fugos hand planted around his hip. He, too, laid his head in turn on Giorno. Things seemed to quiet down, and Giorno's worries eased up momentarily. Feeling how Fugos right hand, that wasn't on his waist, rubbed over his palm. It was soothing, so soothing, after the extensive mindfuck he had put himself through today.

Giorno didn't realize he was resting his eyes; he opened them back up again, to stare down at their laps pressed side by side, and the connected hands, squeezing Fugo's hand ever so gently.

"Sometimes I feel like…" Giorno started speaking without thinking, his voice getting Fugo's attention. "…That maybe, I water down my own experiences a lot."

"..What do you mean?" Fugo inquired.

Giorno blinked a few times, staring at nothing in particular. He was facing it head-on, and he didn't want to.

"… Never mind, it's useless, forget I said anything." Giorno dismissed, Fugo let it slide.

Giorno never considered himself to be 'abused' really. He was neglected and mistreated, sure. But he always thought the word 'abuse' was a stretch. However, when he looked at Haruno, he saw nothing but abuse. The bruises and belt marks all over the child's body when Giorno was bathing him. The dirt, the hesitation in everything he does, and the prolonged panic whenever he makes a mistake.

Did Giorno… really act like that? Was that really what he looked like as a child? He finds it hard to remember. It was like his mind was swiping it away every time he tried to reach for it.

Fugo continued not to say anything; he understood that Giorno didn't need any words right now, he could tell by the way Giorno's hands started to tremble. In turn, Fugo squeezed his hand harder to provide some sort of emotional support, perhaps to stabilize Giorno and bring him back to reality again.

It worked like a charm. Giorno shifted subtly, adjusting himself against Fugo.

"…Sorry." He said sheepishly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Fugo replied.

When the timer beeped from downstairs, Giorno shifted to get up, but Fugo stopped him. If Haruno awoke and found Giorno wasn't there, and in turn, a stranger was next to him, he might freak out. So Fugo was the one to leave, and Giorno kept himself seated on the bed.

What surprised Giorno was that Haruno didn't budge at all in his sleep. He slept like a rock, which was strange, and added to the list of things Giorno didn't expect from himself. It only made his feelings of uncertainty rise higher in his dread-filled stomach.

Giorno decided that Haruno had had enough of a nap; it had been 30 minutes by now. If he slept anymore, he wouldn't be able to sleep at all tonight. So, ever so gently, he reached over and gently shook Haruno's shoulder. He then thought about how the kid might be hungry, and how he had completely forgotten about feeding him; he reminded himself to never become a parent.

He ultimately just decided to spare him a slice. Haruno wouldn't ask for anything, and Giorno knew that, so it was up to him completely to decide when Haruno eats.

Haruno stirred in his sleep, eyes blinking open. He was stubborn at first, digging himself deeper into the bed.

"Haruno.." Giorno whispered. "Are you hungry? Come on, if you sleep any longer, you'll be awake all night." Giorno finished.

Haruno obeyed begrudgingly, rising and rubbing his eyes. Giorno gently rubbed his back in turn to encourage him. Fugo returned not even after 2 minutes with the slices of pizza, setting it on the desk instead of the nightstand.

Haruno blinked a few times at the unfamiliar teenager who had just entered. Fugo looked back at him and then looked away without saying anything. Giorno gently encouraged, helping him off the bed, and sitting him at the desk chair.

"Fugo, sorry for making you my errand boy. Can you grab another plate?" He asked, crouched down to Haruno's height in front of the chair. "Grab him some juice too, I think we still have some Orange juice in the fridge, right?"

"Yeah, no worries, I'll get it." Fugo nodded, trailing out of the room again.

Haruno eyed him down as he left. Children always tended to have a staring problem.

"Who's that?" Haruno asked, his voice raspy from waking up. "Is he your friend?"

"…Hah, we're a little closer than that." Giorno joked, not really expecting Haruno to understand, and of course, he didn't.

"Best friends?"

"…Yeah," Giorno said after a second. "We can go with that."

Haruno kicked his legs in the chair, staying still and not moving without Giorno's permission, which seemed to be a habit of his. The only thing he did on his own was try to climb on Giorno's bed before his nap.

Fugo returned after a minute with a cup of orange juice and an empty plate. He seemed to have gotten the memo, of course, and put a slice of pizza on it without Giorno asking, and handed it to Haruno.

Haruno didn't take it at first; his eyes darted from the pizza to the teenager attempting to hand it to him. An awkward silence came between them, and Fugo shifted uncomfortably.

"Haruno, it's okay, it's yours. Take it." Giorno said gently, which seemed to encourage Haruno, and he reached up to take it, Fugo helping him set it down on his lap.

"Is the slice too big? Should we separate it somehow?" Fugo murmured to Giorno.

"I'm sure it's fine, maybe, probably," Giorno said with no hint of confidence in his tone. Ultimately, when Haruno struggled to pick up and eat the slice without getting it everywhere, Giorno moved forward and started tearing it apart into smaller pieces.

"Don't forget to drink your juice, okay?" Giorno said, and Haruno nodded, now having no trouble eating it. Fugo let out a small, breathy snicker at the sight, earning Giorno's attention.

"And what are you laughing at, exactly?" He asked, standing up and turning around to face him. His tone was light and playful.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," Fugo replied, crossing his arms, that smirk never leaving his face.

"Doesn't sound like nothing, are you making fun of me?" Giorno inquired, stepping closer and feigning accusation.

"Laughing at you? Never. I just think it's funny to see you act like a parent, considering how much you disdain the idea of having kids." Fugo replied.

"I can work just fine as a babysitter," Giorno spoke. "I don't know about a parent, though. That role probably belongs to Bucciaratti."

"You're right, my bad. Speaking of, has Bucciaratti spoken to the kid yet?" Fugo asked.

"No, you're the only person Haruno has met besides me, actually, wait, no. He's seen Mista's face for a few seconds, but nothing more than that." Giorno replied.

"Really? With how this whole situation is going, I was sure Bucciaratti would have wanted to see and question him immediately."

"Bucciarati is busy, I'm sure. Not sure with what, though." Giorno replied absentmindedly. He looked down at Haruno, who didn't seem to be paying attention. Actually, no. That's wrong. When he was a kid, he eavesdropped on everything. He probably just didn't care about what they were discussing.

"He hasn't scheduled me for anything for the rest of today.. I know Mista and Narancia were sent to interrupt a drug deal; that's probably it. It's been a very slow week." Fugo said, adjusting his posture. "—Which means, I might be stuck with you."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Panna." Giorno teased. "Nobody's forcing you to stay here, by all means. If you hate the idea so much, go on, I'm sure Trish or Abbacchio would be up to entertain you." He said.

"Now, I didn't say any of that. You're making assumptions. I would rather be here than anywhere else right now." Fugo responded.

The night came quickly, and Giorno spent his time entertaining Haruno with cartoons downstairs in the main lounge. Fugo had followed and stayed nearby, dozing off on the couch. Bruno had finally come to meet Haruno and ask him a few things. None of the answers he got were helpful. They wanted to understand what happened when a person is warped, and what they felt. But a child wasn't really the best subject to test on, it appears.

Bruno kept his questions vague, asking what Haruno was up to before meeting Giorno, how he ended up in the alleyway, and if he felt anything strange. But he didn't. He remembers his mother waving him off, and him leaving the house to wander Naples. It must've been sometime after he left the house in which it happened.

It was unnerving to think about, if Haruno's words were even a bit reliable to go off of, that would mean there's a chance that a victim would have never noticed if they were warped. Despite the lack of… well, anything. Brunmo felt satisfied by this answer and left them alone.

Giorno decided Haruno would go to bed at around eight, which he assumed seemed like an appropriate time for a child to sleep, but in the meantime, he lounged on the couch with Haruno and Fugo; the cartoon they were watching could only be described as grating to the eyes and the ears. Squeaky voices, overstimulating and vibrant colors, Giorno considered it torture. But for Haruno's sake, because he wanted Giorno nearby, he pushed through.

Mista eventually descended. He didn't pay much mind to Haruno. On his way to the kitchen, he glanced at the television.

"..The fuck are you guys watching?"

"Language, there's a child," Fugo responded, not even looking at the screen or at Mista, and mindlessly scrolling on his phone with little to no interest.

"Oh, right, my bad. Forgot." Mista shrugged off; he got his answer as to why they were watching whatever that was, at least.

Giorno absolutely wished the next few moments that passed were in silence, but the assault on the senses playing on the screen denied that. Giorno found himself beginning to gain a headache. But regardless, Haruno seemed fixated on it. Yeah, no. He was never letting Haruno watch this again. If Haruno begged, he would make Bruno accompany him; he might be able to tolerate it better.

"Do you have a favorite character, Haruno?" Giorno asked, attempting to connect with the child again. Mista had forked himself over and watched the bullshit playing on screen. The guy was entertained by anything, probably the only one in that room besides Haruno who didn't really care.

"mm.." Haruno hummed before pointing. "Pink one."

"The pink one?" In a way, it didn't really make sense. The pink furry thing on the screen was the most annoying of all of them. But children change as they grow, so Giorno didn't question it too hard; if this would've been his favorite as a kid, let it be so.

"Who's your favorite?" Haruno asked, turning his head to point those big green eyes at him. Giorno felt doomed; he should've never asked that. Not when he should've learned by now, Haruno always tended to ask something in return. He hated every single character on screen right now, and he always will.

"Uhm, I like the sun thing," Giorno said, waiting for the moment it came on screen. And then pointing. "That thing, yeah, I really like it actually, it looks stupid." Giorno finished.

Fugo looked up, finally, to see what Giorno was talking about. Mista just stared at it. Giorno snickered a bit… It was apparently the "bad guy of the show." A really angry sun that had a comically detailed face, it looked absolutely stupid, and its voice reminded him of someone…

"…That one?" Haruno asked, not bothering to hide the judgment in his tone.

"…Kinda looks like Abbacchio, acts like him too," Giorno commented, earning a snicker from Fugo.

"Oh my god, don't say that." Mista started speaking. "No way, actually it does. That's so mean."

"Bring Abbacchio down here." Giorno perked up.

"Why are you always trying to find an excuse to get on Abbacchio's nerves?" Mista poked him from his spot of leaning behind the couch.

"Just do it! Come on! It'll be such a waste of his time, it'll be funny! You gotta say it's something super important too, act panicked!" Giorno encouraged, Mista blinked.

"You are such an ass," Fugo replied, with no real malice in his tone.

"Language, Fugo, there's a child," Mista replied.

"You know what, actually, go. Go get Abbacchio." Fugo snapped.

Mista made an annoyed groan, like a child who was just told to do the dishes, and begrudgingly stumbled back up the stairs, making his footsteps obnoxiously loud on purpose. Giorno paused and rewinded the show to a specific part.

He came back with Abbacchio in tow, slumping back over to the main room.

"Hey, Leone, don't you think that kind of looks like you?" Giorno pointed at the paused screen. Abbbachio was stunned, confused, and clearly not in a good kind of mood.

"..I thought you said this was important," Abbacchio said flatly, turning to Mista.

"It is." Mista and Giorno said in sync. Haruno kicked his legs on the couch, waiting for the show to unpause. Giorno reached for the remote and unpaused it.

"See? Looks and sounds like you."

"Is this your fucking idea of a joke?"

"It's not a joke, that's literally you on screen," Giorno replied flatly.

"I didn't know you were an actor, Abbacchio." Fugo played along at long last.

"You're wasting my time." Abbacchio turned to leave.

"Wait, can you say, 'Fun is the poison of life?" Just real quick." Giorno requested, shooting up and trying to keep him from leaving just yet, Abbacchio turned with a scowl.

"I'm not saying that things catchphrase!" Abbacchio shouted.

"Abbacchio, if you don't say it, I'm gonna hurt myself!" Giorno begged.

"I can't fucking deal with you sometimes, Giorno." Abbacchio strutted away, ascending back up the stairs with no motive to come back down. Giorno scoffed and left the TV alone at long last so Haruno could properly enjoy it.

"..Wonder if he's ever starred on Broadway," Mista commented.

Giorno stood alone in his bedroom, and it was easily nearing midnight. And he couldn't find it within him to sleep. Fugo had gone off to bed already, so he was alone with his thoughts. Giorno sat on the opposite side of the bed from where Haruno was dozing off completely, subconsciously scratching his wrist. Nothing felt real; his mind felt separated from his body, and he looked down at the floor, his lap, or whatever else was in front of him, and it felt like watching something through a camera lens rather than his own eyes.

Dissociation was something he was familiar with, of course. He developed it as a child; he developed a lot of things as a child. Things he didn't even realize until he saw Haruno, because he never thought about his childhood at all; he always subconsciously pushed it back.

It was an objective fact that his stepfather beat him, and while it's not really an effective or morally upstanding method to discipline a child, it's still common, which is why he never considered himself to be abused. No, once again, he didn't consider it until he saw Haruno.

When he had bathed Haruno, the signs were clear as day, neglect from all ends, bruises and cuts all over his body, malnourishment, probably from his mother forgetting to feed him for a little bit, not to mention how filthy the child was, clearly not from digging around in alleyways, but more-so just never being bathed until his mother couldn't stand the look or smell of him.

Giorno considered Haruno as someone who faced extreme abuse and neglect, but when he thought of himself, he always considered it to be just a case of parents not caring as much as they should, and it not being as big a deal. But Haruno is Giorno. And when Giorno looks at Haruno, the answer remains the same: he sees abuse.

Giorno buried his face in his hands. Was Giorno's childhood really that bad? It hurt to think about. Perhaps that's why he repressed it so much, because whenever he got close to thinking about it, dread would always pool in his gut, and he would push it back and focus on something else. Perhaps that's why he can't remember much, because he subconsciously repressed it to the point where his brain would never let it back out.

…This line of thinking really tempted Giorno into never looking at Haruno; he kept wondering,

"Is this how my mother felt?"

No matter how much it pained him to look at this child, he swore that he would never act as she did. Slowly, he lay down; he didn't pull Haruno close. He lay there next to him, turned away. He needed to sleep.