"Quit stealing my wine, you annoying little shit."
Abbacchio runs a hand through his long white hair as he glares at Giorno. If looks could kill, Giorno would be dead twenty times over. The blond takes a deep breath to compose himself, and then turns on his heel and starts to walk away. Moody Blues and Gold Experience lean against a nearby wall, chatting about movies and such.
"And you ALSO...hey, where the hell are you going? You brat!" Abbacchio snarls. He grabs Giorno's shoulder and jerks him towards him, then slaps him in the face. Giorno bites his tongue to keep from yelling at Abbacchio. His fists, however, aren't so composed. He punches Abbacchio in the stomach.
"I didn't steal your stupid wine, you damn Hot Topic reject!"
Abbacchio growls.
"You little bastard! I'll slap those god damn donuts right off your head!"
Giorno holds his hands up in a boxer position, his bright green eyes narrowed in anger.
"How many times do I have to tell you, you dumb emo bitch! I DIDN'T STEAL YOUR DAMN WINE!"
Giorno kicks Abbacchio in the shin, then pulls him by the hair and slaps him across the face.
"I hate saying things more than once when I shouldn't fucking have to," he mutters angrily. Abbacchio grabs Giorno's collar and throws him over his shoulder, then slams him into the ground. Giorno gets up and kicks Abbacchio in the gut. They actually get into a full-on fistfight. Moody Blues and Gold Experience watch, annoyed.
"Muda muda muda...muda muda muda. Muda muda?"
"CLICK—yeah. My user is so—BEEP—annoyed about everything, constantly—SCRATCH."
"Muda muda? Muda muda, muda muda? Muda? Muda muda?"
"Nuh-uh. There's not a—BOOP—chance my user would—CLACK—actually listen'ta me if I suggested that."
"Muda...muda muda."
"BRRRING—yeah, it really is. Wanna—CLICK—watch a movie or somethin'?"
"Muda!"
"Cool, let's—BZZT—leave these two to their fate and—BEEP—go have some fun!"
The two Stands walk away as Bucciarati walks into the room. Giorno and Abbacchio are still beating each other up. Bucciarati facepalms.
"Not again, you two..."
"WITH HIM?! NOT A CHANCE IN HELL!" Giorno and Abbacchio shout at the same time. They glare at each other, surprise quickly shifting to anger. Bucciarati's gaze is iron-hard. He holds up a shopping list. Sticky Fingers crosses its arms.
"ARI ARI! Ari...ari ari ARI ARI!"
Moody Blues and Gold Experience walk into the room. They eye their users frustratedly, then head for their friend. Moody Blues puts its hand on Sticky Fingers's shoulder.
"C'mon, bud! Let's go—CLICK—play some video games or somethin'! Take a—BZZT—chill pill, m'dude!"
Sticky Fingers sighs.
"Ari ari..."
"Muda muda! Muda muda muda! Muda muda?" Gold Experience challenges. Sticky Fingers immediately perks up.
"ARI? Ari ari ari, ari ari ari ari!"
The three Stands leave. Bucciarati snaps out of his head. He was watching the Stands.
Oh god, did they punch each other again?
Thankfully, Giorno and Abbacchio were also watching their Stands. Bucciarati sighs in relief.
Good.
"Okay you two, head out now. And don't even THINK about coming back until you two can interact without beating the hell out of each other."
"Grrrrrrrrrrrr..."
"Leone..." Bucciarati mutters loudly. Abbacchio clenches his fists at his sides. He refuses to meet Bucciarati's eyes, for some reason. His left eye twitches. Giorno looks between the two of them, confused.
"...fine. Just give me that damn list," Abbacchio snarls. He snatches the list out of Bucciarati's hand, facing down the whole time. Then he slaps Giorno across the face.
"Stay quiet, brat. The faster I get this done, the faster I can get rid of your annoying ass," he growls. Giorno glares straight into his eyes, his fists clenched at his sides. He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. His fists relax.
"Fine, whatever."
Abbacchio storms out the door, with Giorno following behind, back straight. The goldie's not weak or timid in any sense of the words, but next to Abbacchio, he looks like a golden rabbit. He shuts the door gently.
"Get in the car, brat," Abbacchio snaps. Bucciarati can hear him. He sighs.
This'll be fun.
Moody Blues hums a tune as it searches through its user's room, looking for something, but even the Stand itself doesn't know what exactly it's looking for. After sifting through his drawers and closet (intangibility can be really useful!) and finding nothing, it decides to look under his bed. Under the mattress, carved into the thick wooden frame of the bed, is a trapdoor, and in the little compartment under the trapdoor is a dark purple book, closed with a shiny silver digital lock. Moody Blues pulls it out.
Hm, I wonder why Abba's taken so many precautions with this book. Hidin' it under his mattress in a secret compartment, and also digital-lockin' it. I can't reliably lockpick with my intangibility. I'll hafta open it legitly.
It taps the digital lock a few times. A pixelated—message? That's what Moody Blues assumes it is—pops up on the screen.
"_____ _____", it says. Moody Blues stares at it for a while. It has ten spaces, with a number belonging in each. After racking its brain, Moody Blues has an idea.
Ten spaces. Ten numbers. Divided in two groups of five. Huh...I'll try it.
Moody Blues taps in "66639 25837", and the lock's screen glows green and quietly pings in electronic satisfaction. It unlocks itself, and Moody Blues removes it quickly, placing it gently on Abbacchio's bed. It opens the book and quickly flips through it. Between the secretiveness of this book, the neat handwriting within it, and the dates at the top of each page, Moody Blues figures that it's Abbacchio's diary. It 'smiles'.
Perfect-o. Imma start from the very start.
It flips to the very beginning and starts to read.
"Tsk..."
Abbacchio scoffs at nothing as he drives to the store.
I have to get groceries, and I have to take THIS brat with me, and I can't say no because Bruno, he...he...
Abbacchio shakes his head violently.
"Shut up, me," he murmurs. Feeling like he needs a punching bag, he turns to Giorno, who's riding shotgun. The goldie's just reading a book, not even paying attention. Abbacchio slaps the book out of his hands wordlessly, then turns and glares at the road.
Bruno...
Giorno blinks. He's used to Abbacchio being a dick to him, but just now...Abbacchio just slapped the book out of his hands. No snapping, no insults, nothing. He just...slapped it. He turns to Abbacchio, who's staring forward so intensely that he doesn't even seem to notice Giorno's there. He's muttering something to himself, but Giorno can't quite hear it. Even if he could, he wouldn't.
I don't particularly like eavesdropping, but...my god, something's up with this bastard.
Giorno opens his mouth to say something, but he gets the feeling that Abbacchio wouldn't even want to talk to Bucciarati right now. So he sighs and closes his mouth, still trying to figure out what the hell is up with this idiot.
October 1st, 22:00
Ugh...Bruno pissed me off today, but he's honestly too cute! I can't stay mad at him. God damn it, I can feel myself blushing just writing this. What the hell am I supposed to do?! I hate this. Well...at least I can write this out secretly. I can barely stand this damn feeling. What will I do if he finds out? If someone else finds out? I'm not exactly used to this...feeling. I hate this. I hate myself. I hate this damn weakness.
Oh, whatever. It'll go away. At least I can write my feelings out. God, I feel pathetic and weak.
I'm going to head down to the cellar, grab some wine, and drink myself to sleep. Hopefully no dreams tonight.
Moody Blues 'smiles'. It shuts the diary, locks it, and places it back in the little compartment.
I gotta go tell Sticky Fingers! This is PERFECT!
"Ari ari? Ari ari...ari ari ari?! Ari ari!"
Moody Blues nods excitedly.
"Yeah! Let's—ZZZAP—do it!"
The two shake hands. Sticky Fingers smiles.
"Ari ari..."
*Time Skip! The next day...*
"Ari ari ari?"
"Yeah, I'm—BRRRING—totally ready, m'dude!"
"Ari ari! Ari ari ari!"
"Shh! Here he—BEEP—comes! Get ready!"
"Ari!"
The two Stands sneak off as Bucciarati walks into the room. He's holding a lot of books. Abbacchio's just leaning against the wall, drinking wine straight from the bottle, clearly annoyed.
"Now!" Moody Blues whispers. Sticky Fingers unzips the tiny zipper it created, right in Bucciarati's path. He trips over the uneven floor, and the books go flying out of his hand. Acting on instinct alone, Abbacchio drops his wine bottle and catches Bucciarati. The glass bottle shatters on the ground. Sticky Fingers re-zips the ground, then erases the zipper from existence. Blinking back to conscious thought, Abbacchio is startled to see Bucciarati's face right in front of his, his hands on his shoulders. He pushes him away and covers his face with his hands, embarrassed. He's sure he's blushing. Bucciarati blinks and regains his balance. He feels...warm.
"You tripped...right into me. Don't be so...damn clumsy, Bruno." Abbacchio mutters. Bucciarati can't even manage a word. He just kneels and starts picking up his books. Abbacchio grabs several of them and stacks them roughly. He places them on Bucciarati's stack, his movements strangely gentle. His hand brushes against Bucciarati's, and he pulls back quickly.
"S-Sorry. Do you need...some help?"
God damn it! What the hell am I saying! Stop acting pathetic!
Bucciarati nods, clearly distracted. They stand up, and he glances over at the shattered glass from the empty wine bottle.
"What happened?" He asks. Abbacchio uses his foot to push the glass shards out of Bucciarati's line of sight.
"Just dropped it," he says simply, trying to hide his face and the weird anxiety in his voice.
If I didn't know better, I could've sworn that Bucciarati was bl-
"Leone?" Bucciarati calls, tone slightly worried. Abbacchio snaps back to reality.
"I-I'm fine," he mutters, and looks away.
I need to write in my diary.
Bucciarati smiles.
God, he's cute. Wait, what am I thinking?!
He shakes his head, his hair slapping his face.
"L-Let's just go put these in storage, Leone."
"Y-Yeah."
Moody Blues and Sticky Fingers high-five each other.
"It worked!"
"Ari!"
"Now, what'cha—CLICK—wanna do now, bud?"
"Ari ari...ari ari ari ari, ari ari..."
"Oh, shit...are we seriously out of pasta already? We literally got some last week!"
And grapes and potato chips, too.
Bucciarati closes the pantry door, his movements jerky from frustration. Abbacchio sighs at the ground and grits his teeth.
Damn it...I'm still blushing, aren't I. I need to get out of the house. I need to be completely alone.
"I'll go get the pasta," Abbacchio mutters. He turns to walk away, but Bucciarati grabs his wrist.
"Leone, wait!"
They look at each other, and Abbacchio's face flushes more. He looks away.
"W-What do you want, B-Bruno?" He asks, uselessly attempting to sound irritated. Bucciarati stammers. He swallows and manages to form a coherent sentence.
"I...I f-forgot what I w-was gonna say," he forces.
Abbacchio tenses, but doesn't move away. His other hand twitches nervously.
"Hm. Hm. D-Don't let go. Y-You might remember. T-Take your t-time, B-Bruno."
...you're such a stupid bastard, Bruno...you're just making it stronger! Damn you...get the hell off me! Why can't I make myself speak?! Arrrgggghh! So pathetic! I...I can't...I can't handle this...I can't...I JUST CAN'T!
Abbacchio rips his hand away and runs.
October 17th, 18:00
Black, wilting rose
And no one knows
Broken heart
All pieces, apart
I refuse to submit
I don't want it
My painful scars and icy blood
My freezing tears, a river they flood
I do not care...I will not love
Gazing at the stars above
A shriveled garden, black and dead
And 'cause of that, my heart's stained red
Love or pain, I cannot tell
Can I choose neither? It hurts like hell
...god, my poetry is awful...just like the rest of me.
Abbacchio closes his diary, locks it, and puts it into his secret compartment. He flops down onto his stomach on his bed, his breathing messy. He tries to stay quiet, and he half-wishes he would just cry, just get it out. But he knows that's pathetic...weak. Writing did help, but...it still stings.
...I...I can't...handle this...
His Stand walks in, and immediately shuts the door and runs over to him. It taps him on the shoulder.
"Abba?"
Abbacchio grunts.
"Go away. Leave me alone. Don't tell anyone about this."
His Stand sighs.
"...fine. If it makes you—CLACK—feel better."
It leaves and shuts the door quietly. Abbacchio gets dragged back into his own head, and as much as he hates it, he lets it happen. Eventually, he just starts crying silently.
*Time Skip! Few hours later...*
Where's Leone? He's been gone for five hours. I'm worried.
Bucciarati fidgets with some random zippers he found. His Stand walks up.
"Ari?"
Bucciarati sighs.
"Where's Le...um...Abbacchio?"
Sticky Fingers shakes its head.
"Ari ari. Ari ari ari ari, ari ari ari ari, ari ari. Ari ari?"
Bucciarati clutches at his chest, as if he's injured or something.
"Y-Yeah. Thank you."
His Stand smiles and walks away. He walks up to Abbacchio's room.
I hope he's okay. I really care about him...
He gets to the door and knocks on it.
"Leone?" He calls. No response. He hears...something...from inside, but he can't tell what it is. It sounds like...someone crying? He knocks again, louder.
"Leone? Leone, it's me," he calls. Still no response. He clenches his fist.
I'm really worried about him. I'm going in.
"I'm coming in!" He calls, and opens the door. He looks around the room, and his gaze jumps to the familiar form lying face-down on the bed. Bucciarati hears him crying. His chest convulses with sobs, his breathing uneven. Bucciarati's entire body tenses.
Oh, god. Is he okay?! Oh god oh god oh god...stay calm, stay calm.
Abbacchio is completely unaware that Bucciarati's even there. He's so completely wrapped up in his head, he's lost all awareness of the world around him. Shaking, Bucciarati walks over to the bed and taps Abbacchio on the shoulder.
"Leone? Leone, what's wrong?"
Abbacchio doesn't stir. He's still crying. Bucciarati calls again.
"Leone?"
Abbacchio still doesn't respond. He's clutching his face, and his long white hair falls messily over his head and back. Bucciarati sits down on the bed.
"Leone?"
Abbacchio keeps crying. In an attempt to calm him down, Bucciarati strokes his hair gently. His straight white locks part easily. Bucciarati closes his eyes.
It's so soft.
Abbacchio coughs and wipes at his face.
"...w-what's going on?" He mutters, exhausted. He turns his head to the side, only to see Bucciarati there, his hand in his hair. Abbacchio flinches, slaps Bucciarati, and reels away.
"B-Bruno?! What are you doing in here?! G-Get out! G-Get out of my room!" He hisses, tears still flowing down his face. Bucciarati's face feels like lava, but he ignores that.
He needs help.
"Leone, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm fine," Abbacchio mutters. He sits up on his bed and glares at Bucciarati. Bucciarati sighs.
"You're not 'fine'. Please don't lie to me, Leone."
Abbacchio growls.
"I said I'm fine!"
Bucciarati just shakes his head. He doesn't move. Abbacchio grits his teeth.
I can't stand this. It's only a matter of time before I break down again. He needs to leave!
But no matter what he tries, Bucciarati stays, stubborn as a mule. Abbacchio gives up. He sits against the wall and tucks into himself.
You pathetic bastard...
He starts crying. Bucciarati bites the inside of his lip.
...what do I do?
"L-Leone?" He calls. Abbacchio looks up. His eyes sparkle with tears. He grabs his head and shuts his eyes tightly.
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."
Bucciarati moves closer.
"...Leone...?"
In a manner completely unlike him, Abbacchio bursts out crying and grabs Bucciarati in a hug. He buries his face into his shoulder and digs his nails into his back, as if Bucciarati's the only thing standing between him and being devoured by every nightmare he's ever had.
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." Abbacchio repeats over and over. Bucciarati's caught completely off-guard. His face flushes bright red, and he awkwardly hugs back. He strokes Abbacchio's hair, smoothing it out.
"Shhhhh, shhhhh. It's okay. It's okay. Let it out," he whispers softly.
Leone, you jackass. You've clearly been dealing with this for a while. Why didn't you tell me?! I could've helped! It never would've gotten to this point! You...you really scared me, Leone...
They stay like that for a while, Bucciarati stroking Abbacchio's hair. His face flushes pink.
...it's so, so soft...
Abbacchio coughs and pushes himself away. His face is bright red.
"Never...tell anyone...about this," he spits. Bucciarati looks down.
"What happened, Leone?"
Abbacchio clenches his fists.
"I just...lost it. I'm fine."
Bucciarati puts a hand on Abbacchio's shoulder.
"Leone, please..."
He unconsciously makes a puppy-dog face. Abbacchio tenses.
God damn it, he's too cute. I can't say 'no' to those eyes!
"F-Fine..." he whispers. He leans his head on Bucciarati's shoulder tiredly and tells him the truth. Well, most of it. He omits the minor 'I'm-in-love-with-you' detail.
Nope. Can't mention that, won't mention that. Not important.
"It's just so...tiring..." he mutters. Bucciarati puts his arm around Abbacchio's neck and pats his shoulder reassuringly.
"Shhhhh, shhhhh. It's okay, I promise."
"...so that's why...I haven't been acting like myself..." Abbacchio murmurs. He rubs at the bags under his eyes. Bucciarati frowns.
"When was the last time you slept?" He asks quietly.
"...can't remember..."
Bucciarati squeezes his shoulder and strokes his hair a bit.
"You need to get some sleep."
"...what time is it...?"
Bucciarati checks his phone.
"00:35."
Abbacchio grunts and lays back down. Bucciarati gets up to leave, but Abbacchio grabs his hand.
"...please...stay..." he breathes. Bucciarati blushes.
"A-Are you sure? It m-might be weird..."
"Yes, I'm sure....please, Bruno...stay...with...me..." Abbacchio whispers. Bucciarati sighs, not consciously aware of how weirdly happy he is.
"Okay..."
Bucciarati puts his phone on the table next to the bed and lays down, his entire body burning. Next to him, he hears Abbacchio's quiet, even breathing. He looks over, and he's fast asleep. His mouth is pricked up in a carefree smile.
He's so cute when he's asleep.
Bucciarati grits his teeth.
Woah woah woah, am I actually sleeping here tonight?
Yes, he replies to himself.
Okay then...
He closes his eyes and unconsciously nestles against Abbacchio. He smiles too.
...his hair is so soft...and he smells so good...
He buries his face into Abbacchio's long, soft white hair. As he drifts to sleep, he can hear Abbacchio's voice: soft, happy.
"...B...r...u...n...o..."
His vision fades, and he's pulled into sweet, happy, loving dreams.
*Time Skip! Yes, I'm doing this a lot...so at 9:20...*
"Rise and shine, lovebirds!" A female voice calls. Abbacchio blinks awake.
"...huh...?"
Abbacchio notices Trish and Narancia standing in his doorframe. Narancia is making a heart with his hands, and Trish has her hands on her hips, a smirk on her face. He glares at them, and then feels a weird heat in his chest. Surprised, he turns his head and sees Bucciarati right behind him, his head buried in his long hair, his arms around his neck. He's still sleeping, sort of.
"Five more minutes, Leone..." he murmurs sleepily. Abbacchio blushes and looks back. Narancia's smirking knowingly, his arms crossed across his chest. Trish smiles and winks at Abbacchio, while subtly expecting a reaction. Abbacchio grits his teeth.
"Get out and shut the door, you annoying brats. Can't you see he's still sleeping?" Abbacchio hisses. The two teenagers smirk at each other, then shut the door and leave. Abbacchio rolls over and strokes the side of Bucciarati's face. His ocean-blue eyes flutter open. Abbacchio smiles.
"Morning, sleeping beauty," he whispers, ignoring the red tint on his face. Bucciarati rubs his eyes.
"Leone? What happened? Why am I here?"
Abbacchio frowns.
"You...don't remember?" He asks. His voice sounds...sad. Bucciarati sighs.
"...now I do...sort of. How are you feeling?"
Abbacchio smiles. His entire demeanor is calmer, happier, way more loose and relaxed.
"A lot better. Thank you."
Bucciarati smiles. He boops Abbacchio on the nose. His demeanor is happier, more joking.
"You zipper-addicted dork," Abbacchio whispers. Bucciarati digs his head into Abbacchio's messy, sleep-rattled hair again. Abbacchio blushes.
"Your hair smells really good, Leone..." Bucciarati whispers.
"H-Hey!" Abbacchio spits, embarrassed. Bucciarati laughs.
"You're a cutie."
"H-Hey! N-No I'm not!" Abbacchio half-growls, still smiling.
...I like having him here.
Abbacchio sighs.
"We gotta get up, sugar cube..." he says, voice sad. Bucciarati blushes.
"A-Again with the nicknames?!"
Abbacchio laughs.
Wow...I haven't actually laughed in so long.
"Awwww, aren't you adorable!"
"L-Leone!"
Abbacchio smiles and boops Bucciarati on the nose.
"Now now, sugar cube, we have to get up."
Bucciarati covers his face, embarrassed.
"W-Where did this come from? I-I've never s-seen you act like t-this, Leone."
Abbacchio freezes in place for an instant, anxious all of a sudden. He swallows.
"To be completely honest...I don't know. I just feel...happy and at peace when I'm around you."
Bucciarati boops Abbacchio on the nose.
"Watch it. Being so cute is going to make a certain someone never want to let you go," he says jokingly. Abbacchio rolls his eyes, but he can't keep a smile off his face.
"Let's go. We gotta get up. It's already 10:25."
Bucciarati frowns.
"Okay..."
*Once they're done getting ready...*
"Hey guys! The lovebirds are finally here!" Narancia shouts. Bucciarati blushes and covers his face with his hands. Abbacchio blushes and snarls at Narancia.
"What the hell are you talking about, you damn brat?"
"Yeah, you tooooooootally don't know," he says with a smirk. Mista, Fugo, and Giorno roll their eyes. Trish smacks him on the shoulder.
"That's supposed to be my line!"
Abbacchio rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.
"Shut the hell up, you two."
Bucciarati looks up at Abbacchio.
"Abba...apologize to them..."
Abbacchio rolls his eyes.
"No."
"Abba, pleeeeeaaaasssseeeee?"
Bucciarati does his puppy-dog eyes. Abbacchio blushes.
"Fine, fine, just stop with the face!"
He turns back.
"Sorry, Narancia."
Narancia and Trish look at each other, surprised. Bucciarati boops Abbacchio on the nose and smiles.
"Good job, Abba!"
Abbacchio blushes.
"Bruno..." he mutters loudly. Bucciarati laughs.
"Yeah, yeah."
He turns to the others.
"So, what does everyone want to do today?"
(Hey dudes! I don't know why this one is so long! I guess I just love fluff fanfics. They're actually how I started doing fanfics. Also, I don't know why I made Abbacchio the secretly ultra-romantic and joking type. I just came up with this story off the top of my head. I hope you liked it! There'll be some other fluff throughout these stories. Thank you for reading this!)