Giorno Giovanna one shot

*insert creative title*

  Giorno Giovanna. Head of Passione. A strong figure meant to be feared, young but powerful. The blonde sighed. He didn't feel powerful. Requiem or not he felt helpless. There was so much weight on his shoulders. The mafia was in chaos. There were traitors everywhere, people who wanted him dead.

   The pressure was just to much for the now 16 year old boy. He sat on his bed and held his head. Images of people he cared for dead on the ground. People he genuinely cared for to far for him to reach. Unable to ask for their guidance. A child that grew up to fast, with no one to look up to. That's what he was.

   He wasn't allowed to look up to anyone. He was the boss of the mafia, it would make him look weak. Everyone looked up to HIM. Waited for his orders, his guidance. But he couldn't have guidance. He had to be an adult, he had to do this, had to do that, stop this, stop that. He had to deal with the pressure by himself. No releif, no shoulder to lean on.

   He started to cry, it was just to much. He felt lost and alone, wanting some form of comfort but there wasn't anyone he could go to for that. He had to be seen as strong. And getting comfort would make him weak, pathetic, lose the straws he was grasping at to keep his dream.

    He started to tremble. Sure he had all this power now, but would he able to protect anyone with it? He couldn't protect them. In a sense, did he fail them? He cried harder as these thoughts ran through his head. Images of blood and bodies in his mind. Why did it bother him so much? Shouldn't he be used to it?

    He wanted to talk to someone about this, to sort himself out, to get help. But there was no one to turn to. All he could do was shake and cry by himself, listening to the thoughts that said he wasn't good enough, seeing memories showing he couldn't keep those he cared for safe. Remembering the chaos he in a sense caused. Sure it was for the greater good, but how was he supposed to keep the chaos in check? Him, a child that adults despised for being higher than them. A child with no adult to give him guidance and stability he so needed.

   It ate at him ever so slowly over the year. And when he started to cry he knew that he broke, that he couldn't keep it in.

    Arms wrapped around him. They seemed distant from him but gave a familiar warmth. He snuggled into them for comfort, still crying, plagued with thoughts and memories he didn't want. A hand began to run fingers through the child's hair, in a comforting way.

     "It's all right Giorno... it's ok... you won't go through this alone..." Those were the last words he heard before falling asleep. Words he wanted to here for a long time.