JJBA ONESHOTS

(Abbacchio&Giorno)to dead flowers

<spoilers for p.5 character personalities, implied spoilers for pt.5 character deaths>

   Giorno stumbles back home, drugged and bleeding out, Abbacchio has to deal with it.

   Almost everybody lives AU!

---

   Abbacchio wakes up to the sound of something his window breaking. It's followed by an immediate thump. He reacts in an instant. The combined instincts of police training and gang conditioning lead into him reaching below his pillow, clutching his knife, throwing off the blankets, leaping out of bed—

A rush of cold air slams against Abbacchio's skin. His light sleepwear is mournfully inadequate for anywhere other than below his blankets. There's a figure there, in front of his broken window, somewhat thin and awkward, the moonlight pours in, reflects gold on the intruder's hair.

Abbacchio blinks. Blinks again. Eyes adjusting to the almost-black of his bedroom.

"Giorno?" He says, kind of incredulous, and immediately scowls because what the fuck. He shoves his knife back under his pillow.

Giorno nods, smiles brightly, brings a finger to his lips. "Shhh."

Abbacchio scowls harder. Glances at the glow-in-the-dark electric clock. Four in the fucking morning. It's to early for this. "What the hell are you doing in my room?"

"I was sneaking," the blonde says, not a trace on irony, "sneaking. Shh."

"You broke my window."

Giorno blinks, pauses, purses his lips, looks honestly confused. He looks behind him. At the window. At the glass beneath his feet. Why isn't he wearing shoes. "Huh," he says, "I thought it was mine."

"How the hell," Abbacchio growls, and tries to hold back his temper, "did you think it was yours? Wait—no, why the fuck did you break the window?"

Giorno gives him a flat look. "They're locked from the inside. And I can't go in the door. Cause I'm sneaking."

"Sneaking," he says, voice dry. Giorno smiles brightly, nods. Okay, he thinks, alright. "Sneaking from what?"

Because he is, technically, part of the Don's security. (In reality, he just doesn't know how to retire. Doesn't know what else to do. Doesn't have anything else to do. And it grits on his nerves, feels like skinning himself alive, to take orders from Giorno. But Buccellati is dead and—"

"From Mista," Giorno easily answers, "I can't feel it at all but I'm pretty sure I'm bleeding out! And probably drugged. It would be very bad for Mista to see."

Abbacchio's thoughts grind to a halt. He squints. In the dark he can hardly make out more than Giorno's pale face and gold hair. "Fuck," he curses, and flicks on the lights. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust but—oh. Oh.

Giorno's side is bloody crimson, shirt sticking uncomfortably to the wound. His skin is too pale but also flushed and there's a somewhat dazed look on his face. Abbacchio's first thought is to pass the blonde off to one of the others but Narancia's in school—staying in a dorm and Fugo's on some diplomatic trip and Buccellati's dead and Mista—

"Please don't tell Mista," Giorno says, and he looks so, so sad. "He told me not to go. And he needs sleep."

He's halfway between snapping a call for Mista or just straight up letting Giorno deal with it himself but—Abbacchio is an asshole on the best of days but that doesn't mean he has no standards. Abbacchio is an asshole, a goddamn prick, but he won't be an asshole to someone who's bleeding out and drugged.