Chapter Text
Leone woke up early and wiped the tears from his cheeks. His throat was sore.
He picked up the takeout cartons and the bottles (only three, he would not go back) that he'd thrown to the floor. He didn't know why he cared so much, but the thought of going back to a nest of filth when he'd already told Bruno it was clean made him kind of want to cry (he'd been crying an awful lot recently). Also, it made him itchy. He showered and dried himself off with one of the towels he'd finally made himself get. He covered the last remnants of the bruise on his face with the makeup he'd bought. He brushed his ugly hair. He dressed himself as best he could (his only button up that wasn't pink, black pants, new shoes, also black) and put on black lipstick. Perhaps he liked the color black a bit too much.
When he walked out into the morning's glare, Tiziano was already waiting. Leone got in the car.
"Hey, you look good, man. Still got those shadows under your eyes, but you've got more meat on your bones." Tiziano started driving and Leone forced himself to focus. He had to stop blacking out. He also needed to start talking to people...
"I... I feel better. I don't have to drink anymore. I won't die or anything, I mean."
"Always a plus."
"Um... Yeah..." Leone stared out the window at the buildings they passed. "But, uh, some kids have taken a liking to bullying me." Tiziano snorted but tried to hide it behind a soft cough. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh. I guess it is a little funny... But the shortest one kicks pretty hard, so." He really laughed then and the car swerved slightly.
"Woop! My bad. But dude, seriously? You're getting the shit kicked out of you by a lil gremlin?"
"I prefer to think of him as a rat."
Tiziano laughed again. Leone felt kind of alright. They kept talking, mostly about nothing, but Leone did learn a few things he'd missed before. Tiziano was married. Married to a man (Leone didn't actually know you could do that). They had recently adopted a son. Tiziano liked to make jokes in which he himself was the punchline. He also had a cat named Clash, apparently so named because the first thing it did upon being released in its new home was attack cooking utensils and sending them skidding across the floor. Leone found that he actually quite liked Tiziano's company. When they arrived at the Sunrise Church he was almost disappointed.
"Alright, here we are! Be good man." Tiziano offered his fist and Leone tapped his against it before climbing free of the vehicle. Apparently he was actually on time today, because the others were just heading into the large stone building. Hol Horse was carrying Johnny up the steps in his arms, Polnareff easily swinging the wheelchair up and leaving it at the door for Hol Horse to reseat Johnny. Leone wondered why he hadn't noticed the absence of a wheelchair ramp before this moment. Breaking into a trot to catch up, Leone jumped the steps and stepped into the church, smiling at Noriaki who'd stayed to hold the door.
"Good day to you, Abbacchio-kun."
"Hey, Noriaki."
Side by side, they walked down the hallway and Leone watched Hol Horse pushing Johnny's wheelchair to avoid staring at Polnareff's ass.
"You look a lot better, Abbacchio-kun. Why's that?" Noriaki tipped his head ever so slightly, his long lock of hair laying rather cutely over his face. Leone wondered how well that trick worked on Jotaro.
Leone figured he may as well answer. Better now then in front of everyone else. "Physically, I feel... Wonderful. No headache, no joint issues, no stomach pains."
"But emotionally, you're worse." Leone didn't bother to answer. Noriaki knew he was right. "Well... Not quite worse, hmm? You're just feeling a wound you left to rot." Leone wondered how this man was so good at figuring other people out. "I'll go ahead and tell you Abbacchio-kun, it's going to get much, much worse, but then it'll get a whole lot better all at once and you'll find that being okay isn't such a scary thought after all." Leone didn't have time to answer because they were in the main room now and he found himself suddenly drawn to the horrid realization that Hol Horse was taller than Polnareff.
Hol Horse was taller than Polnareff.
Standing dumbly in the doorway while Noriaki set up the chairs by himself, Leone found that he could not look away from the sight of Polnareff- Huge, powerful Polnareff- looking up slightly to talk to Hol Horse, who stood with his hands clasped together in front of himself. Leone hated literally everything about that. Oh God, oh no, that meant that he himself was taller than Polnareff too. The thought of Polnareff being smaller than literally anyone seemed... Ridiculous. Leone jumped a bit when Noriaki tapped him on the arm, ushering him into a seat that was, this time, between Johnny and Polnareff. He was right beside the Frenchman today and it was definitely something. He could feel the other man's heat, radiating off of him, like his rage made him a furnace.
"Alright then." Noriaki clapped his hands together just as he sat, throwing one leg over the other. "Anything to declare?"
"Sometimes in my nightmares I'm both the men that did it."
"Anyone besides Polnareff-kun have anything to declare?"
Leone looked directly at Johnny and the paraplegic hissed at him like a cat. Leone decided to look somewhere else. But after a short silence, Johnny spoke. "I have something to confess, Father Nori'." He made a pained noise. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- I know you're not a priest, I'm sorry... I just... There's this man."
"He's blond, right?"
"Yes, Jean, bravo, you know my type." Johnny spat the words like poison. Leone just barely managed to keep from pointing out that Hol Horse was very blond indeed and Johnny seemed wholly uninterested in him. "Regardless... Me and him have been... For a while now. He's the first man I've been with for more than a single night and I don't know how to deal with it so I didn't tell you."
"Well, why don't you tell me about him now?" Noriaki's voice was gently neutral and Leone wondered how much he could hide behind that tone.
"Well, he's the biggest man I've ever seen in my life. Hair like gold. And his eyes... Lord above me forgive my soul, but his eyes are like raw amber and every time he calls me to him I know I'll be happy so long as he'll just let me look at him. His body is almost perfect enough to be sacrilegious..." Johnny was looking down at his hands, slowly opening and closing his fists. Leone was more than a little bit uncomfortable at the tone of absolute devotion in his voice as he described this man.
"And his name?" Noriaki prompted gently.
"His name is Dio Brando."
Polnareff shifted and Leone glanced at him just before he spoke. "Weird name."
Johnny growled- actually growled- before falling completely silent. When a few gentle urges did nothing, Noriaki moved on. "Hol Horse-kun?"
"Yes?"
"How are you today?"
"Terrible. How are you, Jean?"
Polnareff leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "Not your scapegoat, Pony."
"Oh, um..." Hol Horse shuffled in place and Leone was uncomfortably aware of the flex of muscle in the man's arms and legs. God, how was he so big and yet so small? "I, um... Slow Dancer almost kicked me the other day and I'm still kinda scared."
Noriaki leaned forward and said, "Hol Horse-kun, why did you start drinking?"
"No one likes me. No family. No friends. No one cares about big ol' Hol Horse. Just a lonely coward."
"That's not it."
"No, it's not."
Noriaki nodded, apparently satisfied at having gotten Hol Horse to admit that he knew damn well his inherent unlikability was not the cause of his downfall. Then he looked to Leone. "Abbacchio-kun? Anything you'd like to talk about?"
Yes. Yes indeed there was. He wanted very deeply to just... Spill everything. To rip himself open with his own teeth and drag out the rotten guts that were killing him, but he knew he wouldn't be able to make himself do that, no matter how much he wanted it. He couldn't talk about Matteo, he couldn't, not yet, not now, even if holding on to him burned worse than anything else. Maybe... Maybe if he could just talk about the things that happened After, then he could get to what happened Before. Maybe if he got enough of the smaller things off his shoulders he'd have the strength to shake off the largest. I am Atlas, he thought, and my sins are the sky.
He realized he'd been silent for quite a while and that everyone was staring at him. Also that Polnareff had grabbed a hunk of his hair and was comparing the color to his own. "Your's is whiter," the Frenchman murmured.
"Yep," Leone wheezed. Polnareff released him, but before he could feel any relief there was an ungodly screeching noise as a chair was scraped across the floor and suddenly Polnareff was a whole lot closer and their arms were touching. Also their legs. Oh shit.
"Go on." Polnareff spoke far too quietly for any of the others to hear. "I've got you."
Holy shit, Polnareff was trying to help him. He thought Leone was silent because he was scared so he got closer to help.
He must be a touchy kind of person.
Filing that thought away for later use, Leone swallowed back his misgivings and finally began to speak. "I-I've done some very bad things for the sake of another bottle." Noriaki was still looking at him, had never once looked away or let his attention falter, and Leone found it kind of comforting. "I knew wh-which bars had barkeeps that l-liked me, my body that is, no one really cared about me, but they thought I was pretty, so I- so - I'd let 'em- let 'em do whatever they wanted to me." He looked down and away, finding his attention drawn to Johnny's clean shoes. How did he get them on? Why did he bother? He'd never use them. "I-I'd get on my kn-knees, or my hands and my knees, almost never on my back, none of them wanted to see my face, I think they wanted to me to be a thing and not a he." He was shaking a bit. He clasped his hands together to try and hold them steadier. "S-Somtimes they'd- they'd sell me, sell me, I-I remember, or half remember, money changing hands and men, it was always men, three or four or five, one after another, and I just did whatever they told me to do because I got booze for it." A big hand, Polnareff's, shoved between his own, forcing them apart. Polnareff's fingers knit with his and they held hands like that, no one in the room acknowledging the joining. "Some of them liked to hit me, liked to hear me beg to be hit, they always came in first then waited for the bruises to start to show be-before doing wh-whatever." God, he couldn't stop himself now, what a tide of words he poured forth. "None of them ever tried to kiss me. I know, I know, it's a stupid thing to remember, of all the horrible things, why is that what I remember the most? I don't know, I don't know, maybe it was just like if they didn't do something that was like affection then I wasn't real, wasn't a human, I was just a thing, not worth the effort, just a doll."
There was a soft pressure to the side of his head, an incredibly gentle push, and when it was gone it took Leone a full ten seconds of pained silence to realize Polnareff had kissed his temple.
He laughed once, a wet and broken sound. "Thank you."
Polnareff grunted softly. There was total silence then. Leone was shaking, ripped between two urges, the one to go, go, let it out, speak, and the one to curl up in a ball and never make a sound again.
"I let people beat on me." Leone glanced at Polnareff but didn't fully look at him. Even in that brief once-over he caught a flash of those pale, pale blue eyes. "Where ever they wanted, as hard as they wanted. I didn't care. So long as they'd give me a couple bucks for it."
Leone shivered. The silence didn't seem quite so heavy anymore. "I-I stood at a street corner once and sold myself properly."
"I beat people down on other people's orders, no question asked."
"I stole from sleeping beggars whenever they left their money out."
"I've mugged four people."
"I'd dig through the trash to find bottles, see if there was just a little more in the bottom."
They were looking at each other fully now and Leone had quite forgotten that there were other people in the room. Polnareff was almost smiling, but still there was that anger. Still there was that rage. Softly, his voice as acidic as thickly clouding smoke, Polnareff murmured, "We're quite the duo, eh?" Leone nodded dumbly.
"If you two are going to kiss then I am literally going to throw up on you." Johnny's voice startled them both out of their privacy and they jumped a bit, Polnareff's hand returning to the lap of its owner. Leone's palm felt cold without the Frenchman's heat.
Leone turned back towards Noriaki, finding (to his great surprise) that the redhead had been stunned into silence. His eyes were wide, his lock of hair fallen, unheeded, into his face, wide mouth just slightly parted. He blinked rapidly for a second, seeming to find himself, and then molded back into softly comfortable. "Ah... That was definitely something, you two, I... I'm so glad you were able to say it. Do you feel any better?"
"Yes." Leone breathed the word, as much of a sigh of relief as an answer.
Polnareff just blew a breath out through his nose, his chair giving a soft squawl of protest as he leaned back.
"I-" Hol Horse started to speak but cut himself off. Leone turned to look at the blond. Both hands were between his legs, his thighs clamped tightly down on them. His head was ducked down between bowed shoulders, eyes shut tight, his whole body an expression of intense pain. He shook his head and swallowed. "Never mind."
"Something?" Noriaki murmured.
Hol Horse whimpered then, as steadily as possible, he said, "I wanted to run a chocolate shop when I was young."
Polnareff straightened up quickly, sliding to the edge of his seat, his whole body swiveling to face Hol Horse, the tension in his shoulders visible through his shirt. Hol Horse promptly burst into panicked tears. Leone wasn't quite sure when it happened, but all at once, Noriaki was between them, a very, very small man between a massive beast of a Frenchman and an even larger coward, and yet he seemed the largest man in the room. "Sit down, Jean-kun." His Japanese accent somehow made the words softer. Polnareff, still sitting, slid back into his seat, sitting properly, though Leone could still see the shivers that wracked him. He ran a hand through his hair and Leone watched the silver strands tremble as the hand within them was seized by a tremor. Just as softly, Noriaki spoke again. "What is it?"
"Sherry always told me she was going to be the best chocolatier in France." Polnareff's voice broke.
Hol Horse had quieted quickly, and though occasional noises of fear still came from him, his tears seemed spent.
Noriaki looked at them all, deliberately intimate in the contact. Leone found himself both scared of and in need of that fiercely platonic kind of intimate. The redhead sighed, making it sound both loving and happy. "You're all doing wonderful." Leone felt warmed by the praise, though he couldn't have said why. Those blue eyes, darker than Polnareff's, swept over them again. "I know you will all be happy. I know that you will. Even you, Polnareff-kun. I know, I know, it doesn't seem possible, but you are all good, good men, and you deserve to be happy and since you brought yourselves here, clearly on some level you are aware of this fact. You deserve to be happy. All four of you." Leone could not look away from Noriaki's warm face. Jotaro was a lucky man. "I love you." His heart cracked, just slightly. "I love you all, so much, I want you to know this. Now. Come on. Let's all go home. We'll be better next week, mm?"
Leone walked with them as they headed for the door this time, close to Polnareff, again finding himself watching Hol Horse push Johnny along the long hallway. Noriaki's voice rose softly through the corridor, too quiet for him and Polnareff to hear, the echoed murmur strangely comforting. Polnareff started to drop back a bit and for a moment Leone assumed it was because of his shorter legs (God, he still hated that that was an accurate statement) but then fingertips just brushed his wrist, a clear request to slow, and Leone decided to follow along, taking short, leisurely steps as the other three grew further away. They were still a short bit from the door when it shut behind Hol Horse and Leone turned to Polnareff, planning to ask what this was about, but Polnareff beat him to the punch. "I'm going to kiss you."
"Ah. What?" Okay, that was most certainly not what he'd been expecting, but... Well, he'd have been lying if he'd said there was no appeal to the statement.
Polnareff seemed unbothered by the brazenness of his own words. "I'm going to kiss you. On your mouth. If you say yes, I mean." There was not even a hint of a blush on those pale cheeks, not even a flicker of embarrassment in those pale eyes.
Leone considered it. He liked to think that he was not the kind of man to kiss around for no reason and that kissing did, in fact, mean something deep. Additionally, he was not romantically attracted to Polnareff in any way. He'd met the man twice and though there was something there, it was entirely physical. And yet. There was something in his face that begged for Leone to say yes, even as his eyes betrayed no love between them. Polnareff wasn't doing this for any kind of attachment either. So why...? He told himself it was curiosity that made him say it, that the need to know why was what pushed him towards the decision of, "Yes." But then Polnareff was on him, large hands (on his shirt, not under) fitting warmly into the curves of his sides, a hard pressure of toned muscle pressed against his whole body as Polanreff backed him to the wall, and a wet kind of heat against his mouth as their lips met. Polanreff did not attempt to get his tongue past Leone's teeth, he just held him, those hot hands squeezing just gently, the softest shifts of his lips sending a shiver through Leone that forced him to shut his eyes and just be. Just be. He wasn't entirely sure how long they stayed like that, bodies together, but when Polnareff backed off Leone found that his head was spinning. Quietly, breath hot against his ear, Polanreff whispered, "You are human."
And then he was gone, just like that, pushing his silver hair from his face as he pushed his way out of the church.
By the time Leone had found the presence of mind to stumble out after him the parking lot was empty save for the bright yellow car that was Tiziano's cab. There wasn't any kind of mark identifying it as a cab. Leone seriously hoped that it was not just Tiziano's car. "Hey!" Window down, a platinum blond head poked into view, the driver in question grinned. "I was starting to think I'd have to come hunt you down. What's up?"
"It... It was nothing. Just got caught thinking." It was most certainly something. Leone got into the back of the car, buckling up and leaning back, tracing his lips just slightly with the tips of his fingers. He thought very intently about that kiss. It had felt strangely like comfort and not at all like love. There had been absolutely nothing romantic about that very romantic action, just a very distinct sense of Please understand that you are here.
You are human.
Polnareff's parting words returned to him and Leone suddenly remembered his own words. About how no man who'd touched him had ever kissed him. How it had made him feel like nothing more than a sex toy. Something that didn't need to be kissed because it wasn't alive at all. And Polnareff, who perhaps had more reason than most to block out entirely Leone's tale of his own sexual abuse (that was the first time he'd called it that) because of what had happened to Sherry Polnareff, this man had not only listened to him, he had responded to it. Had back-and-forthed with him so he could force more of this burden free, had pressed close to hold him up, had kissed him with a kind of warmth that felt like family, because dammit, he was human. He was again struck by the oddest feeling of Human being an emotion.
Noriaki was right. Jean Pierre was a good, good man. Leone prayed that his rage would not burn him away before he could be healed.
Leone was terrified. He had left his apartment without taking a drink from any of the very few bottles left in his little fridge and he was so, so scared that he was wrong. That he needed it. That he would throw up or start shaking all over or start hurting or collapse in a seizing fit of agony. Logically, he knew that even if he did start having withdrawal symptoms that there was alcohol he could reach that would ease it and people around who would limit what he took. That Mista, at the very least, would not let him bite his tongue and choke on his own blood. But still, he was scared. So, so scared.
He didn't even notice Narancia until the boy slipped his hand into Leone's. Slapping the offending grabber away, Leone glared at the child. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Bothering you." Darting ahead so he could turn to walk backwards, facing Leone as he spoke, Narancia grinned. "It's fun. Hey, do you wanna know how long Pops slept yesterday?"
The mention of Bruno immediately calmed his annoyance, brushing his ruffled feathers back into order. "Yes, I do."
"I knew it!" Hopping up, clapping his heels together, Narancia took to frolicking around Leone, that wicked grin never leaving his face. "Because you lo~ve him!"
"Quiet, rat."
"Love him! Love him!"
"I swear, you insufferable creature, I will shove an orange up your ass."
Narancia's face screwed up in momentary confusion before a shriek of laughter erupted from his throat. "Jeez, Abbacchio, you sure know how to make friends! Hey, guess what? Mista got Pops to bed yesterday at like, nine o'clock! And he still hasn't woken up yet!"
Finally back to something that mattered to him, Leone rid his voice of its anger. "He hasn't? Is that normal? Should he be sleeping that long?"
Narancia burst into another fit of giggles, giving him a rather knowing look before answering. "Yeah, whenever Mista takes over, Pops just kinda clocks out for, uhhhh, I think the longest was like, eighteen hours. Hey, why do you think he's so tired?"
So he didn't know? Or was he testing him? No, that was something Giorno would do, not Narancia, but.... If Giorno had told him to do it... Shaking his head, Leone sighed. It would do him no good to doubt every one of the children because one didn't like him (*knew what he'd done). "I think Bruno just lets himself get far too stressed out."
"Mm. That makes sense. Hey, we almost there yet?"
"Of course, you know that full well. Why are you even here?"
"Giorno told me to stay away from you." Giving a cheerful wave over his shoulder, Narancia darted off, leaving Leone to trail after, pondering the boy's words. Giorno had warned him off? But... Narancia hadn't spoken like he knew, so... Giorno probably had just given some father-esque order that he knew better and that Narancia needed to listen. And the first thing Narancia decided to do was disobey. Alright.
Leone hummed in soft relief when he pushed open the bakery's door. Bad as Giorno had gotten, this was still his favorite place on earth. He glanced around, searching for Bruno, but then he supposed he'd have to believe Narancia because that beautiful man was no where in sight. There was just Mista, bent slightly over the counter with Giorno behind him. "Okay, I may not know all the rules, but I'm pretty sure you can't just have sex, Mista." The boy's face flushed scarlet and he straightened hastily, though Giorno hands went to Mista's hips to hold him close, blue-green eyes narrow.
"I-I'm not-! We weren't-! That is not what is happening."
"Sure buddy." His first instinct was to pat Mista on the shoulder, but with Giorno attached to the boy at the hips, Leone figured he'd probably lose his hand for trying. He moved to take the register place instead, promoting Giorno to hastily back up, still stuck to Mista. Rolling his eyes, Leone said, "Oh, and you honestly expect me to believe there is not a dick up your ass right now."
Mista jumped out of Giorno's hold, twisting to show his fully pants covered ass. "Look! It's fine!"
"You do have a fine ass Mista, that's why I'm worried."
Giorno slid between them, grabbing a handful of Leone's shirt and dragging him downward till their faces were less than inches apart, harsh breath warming his face and sea-glass eyes searing a hole in his very soul, more raw emotion in those blue-green depths then Leone had ever seen. Softly, he hissed, "Don't you ever look at him, do you understand me? Don't look at him, don't touch him, he is mine, you won't hurt him, Abbacchio."
The raw contempt with which his name was spat made Leone feel quite like it was bad word.
Giorno released him in favor of snatching Mista's hand, drawing him away and muttering softly but urgently to him. Leone sighed. He hadn't meant- He didn't mean to- It was a joke. Feeling rather shitty, he went into the kitchen briefly to change. When he came back out, Mista was alone and furious looking and Giorno was lurking by one of the corner tables, watching Leone intently and ignoring Narancia's chattering. Leone approached Mista hesitantly. He'd never seen the boy mad before. "Are you alri-"
"Go back in the kitchen. Wash dishes or something, I don't care."
Leone just resisted the urge to break into a run to obey Mista's cold-given order. What was going on? Had Giorno told anyone or not? Was he even going to? Why hadn't he yet? Shaking his head, he just went to the sink and started to scrub clean pans and such used in the baking. As he worked the repetitive job, his thoughts gradually drifted to what they always seemed to: Bruno Bucciarati. He wondered about that braid on top of his head. Did he keep it up with bobby pins? How long had he done it that way? Had he taught himself? How would it feel, when Leone pulled it down, ran his hands through the dark locks till they slipped through his fingers like water? How would that beautiful man taste when Leone dragged his tongue up the curve of that pretty neck? God, he wanted to kiss him, had never in his life wanted to just kiss someone so badly. He wondered, briefly, if Bruno would be gentle or rough in bed. Would he want to be on top? Bottom? On his side? What would he want Leone to do? Whatever it was, Leone would do it, no matter what, so long as Bruno was happy he would be too. Several different actions and different positions flickered through his thoughts, but he hastily shook them off. He didn't have near enough time to go down that road, especially not in the kitchen.
He wondered when Bruno would wake up.
He'd managed to successfully clean all the dishes without A) Jacking off in the kitchen, B) Crying, or C) Stealing from the alcohol drawer. He figured he did pretty good for himself. But now he didn't know what to do. Did Mista still want to be alone? Hesitating, shuffling in place, he was still just standing there like an idiot when Narancia's smudged face poked into the room. "Abbacchio! Señor!" Leone cringed. "Come here, come here, quickly!"
Deciding to humor the little street rat, Leone complied. "What?"
"Do you want to see Pa?"
Bruno. Leone's heart skipped a beat. "S-See him?"
"Yus! Giorno and Mista went outside to talk about something that's not my business-" the boy's voice was bitter, "-so I'm going to go check up on Pops. You wanna come with?" Knowing damn well Giorno wouldn't like it, Leone nodded. "Then come on! Be quick! Speed, Abbacchio!" Practicing what he preached, Narancia shot off, at and through the door to Bruno's home space before Leone was even properly out of the kitchen. He glanced over towards the front wall as he followed behind, seeking out Mista and Giorno. The two were outside, talking animatedly, hands waving, faces twisted into expressions of love and anger and exasperation. "Abbacchio!" Turning away from the two at Narancia's hiss, Leone hurried after him, closing the door behind them and ascending the steps, watching in stunned amazement as Narancia's short legs took the stairs three at a time.
"Come on! Come on!" Narancia led the way through Bruno's home, trotting along on the tips of his toes with enough hop to send the tips of his wild hair bouncing. If he wasn't so annoying Leone might be able to call him cute. Wiggling, apparently from the sheer excitement of doing something he wasn't supposed to, Narancia opened the door to Bruno's bedroom with surprising care and slipped past it, motioning Leone after him.
It was dark in the room. Leone stood for a moment, just getting used to the gloom. Then he could see him. Bruno Bucciarati, sprawled out on his bed, covers tangled around his body, one leg sticking free, pale skin showing from beneath the rucked up leg of his pajama pants, ink black hair spilling over his pillows. God, it really was long... He made a noise, half rolling over, pawing the blankets back over his bare leg and then proceeding to let out the single wettest snore Leone had ever heard. He was absolutely gorgeous and Leone wanted so badly to hold him.
Narancia was sneaking closer, clearly making an effort to be silent, leaning over the bed. He inspected the rather loudly snoring Bruno for a moment before reaching over and pinching his nose shut. There was utter silence as Bruno was robbed of his ability to breathe. Leone was just heading over to throw Narancia out the window when Bruno gasped loudly, rolling over so his back was to them and continuing his slumber in silence. Narancia looked over to Leone with his violet eyes sparkling with victory. "I did it." Leone wanted to ask what, exactly, Narancia thought he had accomplished by that, but he didn't want to wake Bruno so he just gave the rat child a glare and shuffled closer to the bed. As gently as he could manage, Leone pulled the covers so they weren't rumpled up around Bruno, his yellow-purple eyes tracing down the gentle curve of Bruno's spine before he pulled the covers up to his chin. He hesitated for a moment then, his hand hovering over Bruno's shoulder. God, he wanted to touch him so badly.
"Go ahead. He won't wake up." Narancia had darted rather quietly around the bed and was currently crawling up on it, ignoring Leone's looks and soft hissed words of warning. With a sigh, the boy wriggled under the covers and pressed himself against Bruno, relaxing entirely when Bruno wrapped one arm around him, pulling Narancia close even as he slept. Narancia's eyes were shut, a very, very gentle expression on his face and Leone was suddenly struck by the thought that this was what Narancia had brought him up here for. To see him, curled up in the curve of his Papa's body, completely vulnerable, trusting Bruno to keep him safe even as he slept. It felt like something sacred, the sheer amount of love they held for each other. Narancia hummed, a soft note of affection, and, though wobbly, Bruno hummed back. He still did not wake. Leone laid his hand on Bruno's head, petting him almost in the same fashion that Mista had pet him when he'd been curled up on the kitchen floor. He laid his hand to Narancia's head next, a soft spot he didn't want to admit he had feeling warm towards the wild boy. Perhaps not so wild. It seemed now that Bruno had quite nicely managed to tame him. It seemed that Bruno could tame just about anyone if he set his mind to it. More on impulse then anything else, Leone leaned down to kiss Narancia's temple, expecting some kind of pinch or snicker but just getting a contented warble in response. And dammit, he supposed he loved the stupid rat too.
Quietly, he let himself out, creeping down the stairs and back into the store. Mista was back at the register and he was just as tense as the last time Leone had seen him there. Giorno was out of sight. Looking around, Leone approached Mista like the boy was a wounded animal, carefully studying his expression when he got close enough too. "Hey." Mista didn't respond but something flickered on his face. He was trying very, very hard to look neutral but he wasn't as good at hiding his emotions as Giorno was, couldn't seem to fully halt the twitch of his mouth or the shift or his eyes, couldn't seem to learn how to smother that light behind his pupils. Mista was absolutely miserable and Leone didn't know what to do about it. He leaned against the counter, close enough that it would only take the tiniest of shifts for their hips to bump. "What's up?"
Mista ran one hand over his face and Leone wondered if everyone was so very tired, because that was what was on Mista's face. Dejected exhaustion. "I don't know, I just... I just said some really terrible things to the love of my life and I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't come back." That seemed a little bit dramatic to Leone. Mista and Giorno both were very young, the odds of Giorno being Mista's true love were very slim. But he'd been a love-struck teenager before, so he supposed he knew how it felt. Mista sighed again and Leone tried to pay attention. "I'm just so tired of him trying to take everything on his own. We're supposed to be partners. One and the same. Side by side. Equal. That's how it should be, but... But he just won't tell me things and I can tell that it's bothering him, he hasn't slept properly in days, but he won't talk to me and it's so-" Mista broke off with a noise of exasperated frustration, throwing his hand in the air.
Leone reached out, finally obeying the need to put a hand to Mista's shoulder. "Hey, Mista. Calm down. So Giorno's being a bit of an ass about things, so what? He loves you. That's what's important. The rest will follow."
"... You think so?"
"I know so. The only time I've ever seen the little snot show human emotion is when he's looking at you."
Mista grumbled, again running his hand down his face. "He's going to have to start talking to me eventually."
"He will." Leone shook Mista gently when the brunet didn't look at him. "He will, Mista. He'd be a fool to let someone like you go over something as stupid as that."
Finally Mista relaxed, turning a bit away to fiddle with the register. "Yeah... Yeah, you're right... Thanks, Abbacchio."
"Of course."
The rest of the day went rather smoothly. Bruno never showed up (Leone was happy he was getting the sleep he'd so badly needed), Narancia never came back down either, and Giorno was blessedly absent. There was just the job he knew how to preform and the one child that saw no reason to torment him. Briefly, he wondered about the location of Fugo. Where did he disappear to for days at a time? Maybe Bruno knew... He didn't bother with trying to remember the question to ask later. It didn't seem important enough to warrant the effort. He wondered what kind of man Bruno's father was to so deeply terrify his son, stressing him to the point of collapse. He wondered how often Narancia crawled into Bruno's bed. He wondered where Polnareff was. Was he drinking? Did the alcohol dampen his rage? Hide it behind a thin veil of mist? Or did it ignite in his fires? Send the blaze roaring ever higher? Was he, even now, screaming in anger, throwing furniture and people alike with no recognition of a difference between them? Did he ever think of Leone? Was Bruno okay? Beautiful Bruno, would he ever slow down? Or would he burn himself to ash trying to warm the world? Oh the questions. Leone wondered if he'd ever get the answer to any of them.