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Giorno’s the type with a routine. Wake up, eat breakfast, garden, do paperwork, eat lunch, do more paperwork, have dinner, go on a walk, go to sleep, repeat.
Abbacchio has seen this routine day in and day out, hell, he can tell just by the kid’s foot falls what time of day it is.
Abbacchio liked to sleep in, so by the time he’s up and washed he’s the last one at the table for breakfast (which Bruno usually makes). He’d eat and hang out with Bruno for most of the day, helping him with paperwork, going on small missions, making shopping trips, you name it. Usually at the end of dinner he’d digest and then go for a run, often passing by Giorno on the sidewalk. The two usually just nod at each other and be on their way. They’d rarely talk, and when they do it’s all business or some stupid argument.
Sure, Abbacchio could stop antagonizing the kid, but he’s a drama queen at heart, so he usually speaks before he thinks.
This morning he woke up at his usual time, a nice 8:00am. If he had it his way he’d probably sleep in until 11:00am but that’s beside the point.
Bruno, as usual, had already gotten up; his side of the bed made and pillows neatly fluffed.
Abbacchio got up, took a shower, and applied his normal makeup. Today was his day off. He had all the time in the world to be an introvert and just relax indoors without a single care. He threw on a pair of leggings and a baggy Lorna Shore t-shirt. He pulled his hair back into a low ponytail and called it a day.
He walked down and saw the rest of the members chatting and sipping on their morning coffee. All but one. Giorno wasn’t sitting in his usual place.
Maybe he’s in the bathroom? Maybe he slept in too late? Maybe he was kidnapped?
Whatever. It wasn’t Abbacchio’s concern.
“Good morning, Leone,” Bruno greeted, scooting Abbacchio’s mason jar of iced coffee over to him.
“Morning,” He mumbled back, sitting down and sipping the cold brew.
Trish poked his shoulder and took her pointed nails, slipping off a clumped piece of Abbacchio’s mascara.
“Thank you,” he said, getting an “okay” sign from her as she sipped her iced coffee.
Mista drummed his fingers on the wooden table, “Hey, Abba, did you see Giorno on your way down?”
Abbacchio glanced up from his drink, “No. Has he not shown up?”
Everyone made a similar “I guess not” expression.
The goth sipped his drink loudly, “Maybe he’s just having trouble styling his hair donuts,” Abbacchio said, swirling his jar around, analyzing everyone’s expression.
Mista and Fugo shot worried glances at each other. The gunslinger’s finger drumming turned into full blown anxious patting of the table.
“I’m… I'm gonna go check up on him. This isn’t rubbing me the right way.”
He stood up abruptly and walked up the stairs at a hurried pace.
Abbacchio looked over at Fugo who was nervously picking at his fingers, “I’m sure he’s fine… unless there’s a reason to worry?” He inquired.
“None of your business,” the albino said sharply.
Abbacchio bit the inside of his cheek angrily. Whatever. None of his business, as Fugo said.
He leaned back in his chair and looked at his boyfriend, who also seemed to just be watching the group, trying to figure out what was going on without directly asking.
Trish swirled her iced coffee, “It might as well be me who breaks this silence.”
“What? You know what’s going on?” Bruno asked.
She looked over at Narancia and Fugo who were both making worried expressions.
Trish flailed her hands, like she was trying to think of a proper way to word things, “He… isn’t feeling well?”
Bruno threaded his fingers together, “You don’t seem certain.”
Narancia butted in, “She’s not wrong. He isn’t feeling “well”…” he exaggerated the well with his fingers.
Bruno narrowed his eyes and sat his body forward in a dominating posture, “Narancia, Trish, Fugo. Is there something I should be concerned about?”
“He-“ they all started.
Suddenly Mista walked down the stairs with Giorno following close behind.
Giorno looked… awful. His hair wasn’t done up in its usual style, instead it was tied back in a lazy ponytail. He wore no makeup, showing his somewhat sickly complexion and harsh dark circles under his eyes. He wore a pair of pajama shorts and a thin tank top, as well as mismatched socks.
Giorno sat down in his usual place next to Mista, not saying a word and taking his coffee mug to his lips.
Everyone watched him in silence.
Mista didn’t make eye contact with anyone, instead he rested his head on his hand and looked down at his lap.
“Giorno-“ Bruno started. He was met with dulled turquoise eyes, rid of the usual bright glow they had.
Bruno swallowed, “How are you this morning?”
“Alright, thank you.”
That was all he got.
Abbacchio pursed his lips into a small black line and stood up, walking to the kitchen, Bruno quickly following.
Abbacchio sliced a bagel in half and threw it into the toaster, turning around and resting his back against the counter. Bruno walked up to him and pulled him into a hug, resting his head on his shoulder.
“What’s going on with him? Should I do something?” He whispered.
Abbacchio clicked his tongue, “Maybe the kid had a nightmare or something. I'd ask Mista what’s going on but we both know his lips are shut.”
Bruno sighed loudly, “I’ve got shit to do today with most of them. You and Giorno will be here alone. Could… could you?”
“Do you really think me prying into Giorno’s emotions is a good thing?”
“I just-“ another sigh, “you’re good at talking.”
Abbacchio snorted, “When it’s to interrogations. When it comes to grumpy sixteen year olds… I don’t see it going well.”
“Pretend you’re talking to Trish or Narancia. You’re good with them!”
“They’re different.”
Bruno frowned, “Not really.”
“Narancia does most of the talking himself. All I have to do with him is ask a question and he’ll answer it himself, eventually. I’m good with Trish because we’re similar. Not much conversation happens but we get somewhere.”
“You and Trish are similar because you’re both iced coffee white fashionistas.”
Abbacchio laughed quietly, “You got me there. Narancia and Trish are my kids, you have the rest.”
Bruno mumbled incoherently into his shoulder. They held each other, rocking slightly back and forth until the bagels sprang free.
Breakfast went at an agonizingly slow pace. Conversation was nonexistent and everyone felt like the slightest noise could ensue chaos.
Bruno packed up the van with all the members, excluding Giorno and Abbacchio. He drilled the strategy into them, making them repeat his orders back.
Abbacchio walked into the garage and leaned on the wall, sparking Bruno to walk over to him.
“Alright, we’re heading to the coast. Wish us luck,” he kissed Abbacchio’s cheek and leaned into his ear, “ Text me if something happens .”
“Gross!! Mom and dad are making out!” Narancia shouted.
Abbacchio glared at the kid, “I’ll see you guys later tonight. Remember! This guy you’re tracking is a royal shitstain so be mean!”
Bruno smacked Abbacchio’s arm, “Leone!”
He made a kissy noise, “Love you.”
“Love you too. Be nice to Giorno.”
“I will.”
Bruno curled an eyebrow at him and hopped into the van, started the engine and drove off.
This was going to be a long nine hours at home.
He started his time alone off with reading a chapter of a cheesy romance novel Bruno had gifted him. It was a smutty fantasy, something about a werewolf and a city man moving to a cabin in the woods. It was brain junk food, but it’s what Abbacchio liked.
Peace and quiet, finally. He flipped a page and kept reading, enjoying the white static of nothing in his ears.
Brian crossed his arms, “You’ve been acting weird lately. What’s going on?”
Lucas shifted in his seat nervously, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, ever since we slept together two nights ago, I realized you’re the one for me. I want to tell you, but it’s too dangerous.”
“You’ve been avoiding me, was it bad? The sex?”
“No! Nothing like that. It’s a lot more complicated than you can imagine. It’s not something I can just tell anyone.”
“Am I “anyone”, Lucas?”
Lucas’s yellow-brown eyes stared deeply into Brian’s, “No, you’re not.”
-Thunk!
Abbacchio looked up at the ceiling where the noise came from. Perhaps Giorno dropped something.
“So tell me, Lucas! What’s going on?”
The tall man stood up and walked over to Brian. He wrapped his large arms around the smaller man and whispered into his ear, “I’m a creature of the night, a werewolf-“
SLAM!
“Goddammit!” Abbacchio stood up, “Giorno! Everything okay?!”
“I’m fine!” A muffled Giorno responded.
Abbacchio sighed annoyingly and sat back down.
“A werewolf?”
“Yes.”
Brian moved their faces together, “Now that you’ve said that, it all makes sense.”
“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”
Brian hushed the man, “I have something I need to tell you too. He leaned into Lucas’s neck and nipped slightly, “I too am a creature of the night. A vampire, they call me-“
Abbacchio smiled, he fucking knew it. Ooooh this was getting good and spicy!
The back door slammed loudly.
He’s had just about enough with this blonde headed kid knocking things around.
He set his book down and walked hurriedly to the back door, peering out. Giorno was crouched down in his garden, basket in hand, presumably picking fruits and vegetables.
Abbacchio slipped on some sneakers and walked out to the kid.
“Giorno-!”
The blonde looked up at him, his face still very much telling the goth he wasn’t in the right state of mind.
“Giorno…” He said again, calmer this time.
The kid looked back down at the cucumber plant he was working on, “Abbacchio.”
“What were you doing? Slamming things around?”
“Oh, something just slipped out of my hand, is all. Nothing to worry about.”
Now, Giorno wasn’t the most expressive in his tones on a good day. But right in this moment he sounded like a robot, croaking out answers and barely attempting to sound human. He needed a distraction.
Abbacchio crouched down and looked at the cucumber plant, “What kind of cucumbers are these?”
Giorno looked at Abbacchio with a puzzled looked, “Uh, burpless.”
“Burpless?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are they called that?”
Giorno picked a large one and held it up, “They have little or no levels of cucurbitacin. That’s the compound in cucumbers which makes you burp.”
“Cucumbers make you burp?”
“They make Narancia burp, and that’s why he asked me to plant these ones,” Giorno scratched the skin of the cucumber, “The skin is thin because of it. Most of the compound resides in the stem and the skin.”
“I… didn’t know any of this.”
Giorno continued to pick some of the larger cucumbers off their stems.
Abbacchio cleared his throat, “How… how are you feeling?”
Giorno stopped picking the fruit and looked up at Abbacchio, “Is it that obvious?”
“Ye… yeah. You don’t look good, kid.”
Giorno stared at the plant in front of him, “Shit.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know if you’d get it.”
Abbacchio let himself sit on the ground, “Try me.”
Giorno sighed loudly, “I just feel disconnected. Like I’m here physically, but not mentally. Like my body is just acting on it’s own and I’m just sorta watching it all happen. It’s stupid- I know-“
“No, no, don’t say that. It’s not stupid. I get what you’re saying completely.”
Giorno’s eyes widened a little and he found himself sitting down next to the goth.
Abbacchio continued, “The months between my partner's death in the force and the time Bruno picked me up off the streets are a complete blur. All I can really remember is drinking, vomiting, smoking and crying. My body just did it… while my mind sat back and watched, unable to stop itself.”
“Is that why you love Bruno so much?”
“It’s part of it. He keeps my body and my mind together. He keeps me down to earth. I love him for many other reasons… but when he picked me up in that rain, I could finally feel my heart in my chest again.”
“I didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic, Abbacchio,” Giorno teased.
“Not that you’ve been in mine and Bruno’s room, but you’ll see it’s pretty clear by the novels on our bookshelf.”
“Don’t tell me you read those shitty paperback romance novels from the drugstore.”
“You said it, not me.”
“Oh my god.” Giorno finally let a small smile crack.
Abbacchio took a cucumber from Giorno’s basket, cleaned it off with his shirt and bit into it, “So, now that I’ve told you my dirty secret, what’s yours?”
Giorno thought for a second, “You know when you go to the grocery store they have these little toy machines that you put a coin in and a small toy in a plastic ball comes out?”
“Yes..?”
“I may or may not have a collection of them.”
“That’s kind of adorable, I bet Narancia likes those”
“He does.”
Abbacchio stood up, still munching on his cucumber. He walked over to a bunch of plants, which he identified as zucchini.
“Tell me about zucchini’s.”
“Uh, well… the largest zucchini weighed 29 kilograms (65 lbs). It also has more potassium than a banana.”
Abbacchio hummed a response, he looked to a celery plant next to him, “What about celery?”
“Well, it was used as medicine for a while… It was used to treat toothaches and insomnia.”
Abbacchio took another bite of his snack, “You know a lot about plants.”
“They’re my babies.”
Abbacchio finished his cucumber and looked at the rose bushes, “I didn’t know there were so many different colors or roses.”
“They each have their own meaning,” Giorno walked over, “The most well known is the red for romance, obviously. The white is for eternal loyalty, this dark pink is for appreciation and gratitude, the black is for change, and the yellow is for friendship and new beginnings.”
Abbacchio turned to Giorno, “Which ones are your favorite?”
“The pink and yellow. I know, I’m biased.”
The older man crouched and admired a butterfly that sat on one of the yellow roses, “Have you always enjoyed gardening?”
“I have, I’ve just never had an opportunity to pursue it until recently.”
“No space when you lived with your parents?”
Giorno was silent for a moment, causing Abbacchio to look over at him. The kid’s expression went dark again.
“There was no space for much of anything…including myself.”
Shit.
“I-I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“It’s fine. The main issue is dead anyway.”
Abbacchio couldn’t help but press further, “Dead?”
“My stepfather was abusive. I confided in Mista one night… three hours later he knocked at my bedroom door, his hands were bloody and he had a photo of my stepfather's body.”
“Does Bruno know about this?”
“Yeah, he gave the okay to Mista.”
“As long as that’s what you wanted, good riddance.”
“I hope my mother moves back to Japan. She was pretty bad too, but better than him. She deserves to at least live the life she wanted.”
“Considering what Mista did, I doubt he’ll be as remorseful as you.”
“I doubt it too. Whatever happens though, you guys are my family now. Screw blood relations.”
Abbacchio looked back at the butterfly, “Giorno… I… I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being a dick. I’ve been a pain in your ass since we met. I never knew you had it so difficult.”
Giorno snipped some roses off the bushes, “You helped me take down Diavolo, that means a lot.”
“You still didn’t deserve the shit I put you through.”
Giorno looked up at Abbacchio, “Tears don’t look good with the dark mascara, Leone.”
“Shit-“
Giorno laughed. He laughed!
“I’m teasing you. You’re only misty-eyed.”
Abbacchio gently shoved the blonde, “You asshole. It’s the pollen, I swear.”
Giorno set the last of the flowers in his basket, “Bruno said he wanted lasagna tonight, you wanna help?”
Abbacchio walked toward the door, “Sure, you’re not making it with those roses are you?”
Giorno followed, “I may be blonde but I’m not stupid.”
“You sure?”
Giorno’s grumpy face was priceless.
Slam!
“Boys! We’re home!” Bruno yelled out, kicking his shoes off. The homey smell of freshly made lasagna and garden vegetables wafted into his nose.
Abbacchio walked over, “How was it?”
“Good, the bastard made us run six kilometers… but we got the job done.”
Mista walked up to Abbacchio, “You weren’t mean to him were you?”
“We made lasagna without burning everything down, I’d think that tells you a lot.”
“Thank god,” Mista stretched, “I’m fuckin’ starving.”
Everyone else ran into the house, hungry, sweaty and tired.
“Leone,” Bruno said, grabbing his arm, “Did you talk to him?”
“I did. He’s… going through some mental health issues. We talked it out.”
“You did?”
“Yes sir.”
Bruno pulled him into a hug, “I wish he’d told us sooner.”
Abbacchio squeezed his lover back, “He’s fine now. He just may need to talk it out sometimes.”
“Thank you, Leone.”
“He’s one of your kids, I have to treat him well.”
“Well, now he’s one of yours!”
“In your dreams, babe, in your dreams.”
“Mmhm, sure.”
Dinner was far better than breakfast. Everyone was filling Abbacchio and Giorno in on the details of the mission. (Some things were exaggerated by Naracnia and Mista, of course)
Abbacchio couldn’t help but notice the bouquet of freshly trimmed yellow roses in the center of the table.
Maybe Giorno could be his honorary kid after all. Maybe .