TW; vague-ish depictions of sexual acts for plot at the very beginning. If that is triggering for you or you'd prefer to not read it, skip to "Giorno listens to Fugo in their bathroom." please take care of yourself!
--
Being back in Fugo's arms felt like bliss. Hands on his waist, mouth on his neck. Fugo looks at him with such admiration despite the past week. Giorno doesn't have to think about anything when they're together like this.
Fugo. Everything was Fugo, from inside of him to outside, and there was no giorno and everything was perfect. There was no blood, no violence, no unwarranted feelings, just the steady rock of fugo's hips against his own. All he wants to do is bring him closer, so he does.
Giorno listens to Fugo in their bathroom. He's humming some unfamiliar song, probably a classical piece that he's learning to play on the piano. Giorno feels warm. He loves him.
He should probably join Fugo in the shower, but he'd rather stay laying down and pretending to be asleep. They just got on solid ground, and he doesn't want to break the fragile peace that they've just re-established. The prospect of accidently starting another fight eats at him, so he'd rather just leave him be. Giorno is decently sure that Fugo used to carry him to their bath at one point. He bites the inside of his cheek, ignores the growing sting and pressure in his throat and behind his eyes, and listens.
The next morning they both slip into their routine relatively well, which is a major relief for the Don. Neither of them can cook. Shitty breakfast, dark coffee, work. He can tell Fugo is overworking himself again. He holds himself differently. Acts differently, more antsy, maybe. He isn't sure. It's just a feeling he gets when he looks at Pannacotta, and he hasn't been wrong yet. Maybe that's all in his head, though, and Fugo is just a creature of habit.
Giorno glares at the paperwork underneath his pen. This is stupid. He should get somebody else to do this. He must be more annoyed than he's aware of, because he can vaguely sense Gold Experience Requiem behind him, equally as frustrated (if not more so, GER herself has a mighty temper. Giorno isn't sure where she gets it from) and glaring at the papers with him. His eyes burn. Planning isn't exactly his strong suit. He should probably ask for help, but being miserable for a while is too much of a good feeling to pass up. He's been sitting in this chair for a good four hours and is staring at the same work that should be taking him maybe twenty minutes. GER stirs. He realizes vines are creeping up his desk. He grips the pen tighter.
The windows are open. The temperatures dropped enough to be noticable, as well as the light. Giorno shivers. Same spot. He hasn't made an ounce of progress, and he allowed himself to think of his mom.
Requiem throws the pen with a shout.
Giorno opts to stare blankly at the carpet.
Despite knowing Fugo will get upset at him, he lays down underneath the main tree in his garden and curls up. He made his bed, and he will lay in it.
Giorno stays in the tree for the next day. Sheila will probably get worried. So will his subordinates. So will Fugo. He still hides within its branches. It feels safer than the Mansion. He sleeps through most of the day, and is thankful when he wakes up in the afternoon without interruption. His empty stomach gnaws at his comfort, but he's ignored worse. Buccellati or Fugo will likely find this spot soon, but he can just find a new spot the next time. He's very good at hiding.
Giorno watches the sun set. He should probably go back home, go eat dinner with his boyfriend, make sure everybody knows he's okay. But he's so tired. Something keeps him glued to his wooden cradle, so he stays. He's slept through most of the day, but his eyelids feel heavy. He doesn't fight it.
He wakes up in Buccellati and Abbacchio's bed. He's a little startled at first, but settles down once he realizes he's alone. He knows Buccellati has been worried about him recently, and he doesn't want to get an earful from him. He appreciates the older man caring for him as much as he hates it.
Bruno isn't there.
"Hey, kid." Abbacchio stares at him from across the room. So much for getting away unscathed.
"Fugo's been looking for you. Take care of yourself, you're stressing us all out."
Giorno nods, and leaves.
He'll deal with this later.
YOU ARE READING
A Pearl
FanfictionIt always feels like Giorno starts the fights, when they happen, but he can never remember or figure out how. The growing divide between the boy who didn't have a childhood and the ruthless don he was supposed to be was starting to wear on him and F...
