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Creaking of wood echoed through the hallway, feet scampering towards Giorno's room. Narancia flug open the door, barreling onto Gio's bed with a huff. "Giornooooo... School sucks ass"

Blinking, Giorno gently patted Nara's head. He let out a breath and continued to flip through his book. He had picked it up at an old thrift store, and honestly it was boring. It suited as a way to distract himself without putting in the effort.

Narancia slowly sat up, frowning. "The teacher sucks, she's rude as HELL. I swear she purposely picks me and makes fun of me just to make me feel bad!" He watches as Giorno gives him his signature "oh damn" look and hands him Mr. Squiggles, a plush frog given to him by Narancia for his birthday.

God that birthday party. Giorno had neglected to tell everyone that it was his birthday until it had accidentally slipped out the morning of. He had busied himself with a stack of the finances, and when Bruno had tried to tell him to take a break, he had told him he was going to stop early due to it being his birthday. The gang was absolutely astonished and rushed to find what to buy for him. He wasn't the best with "gift picking", as Giorno barely had talked about his interests with anyone. Narancia remembered the many books stacked in his room that were labeled with fancy titles, supposedly about biology and nature, things alike. While Bruno and Abbacchio went to pick out a cake together, the rest of the gang were left to scavenge for gifts. He was sure that Giorno had knew of their intentions, but didn't comment on it. Narancia had scowered his box of plushies, until he came across Squiggles. Something about it just screamed Giorno, so he decided it was perfect. When he had presented it to Giorno, he swore he had seen someone unlike Giorno. He actually looked like a teenager, like they all were. He promised himself that once this all was over, he would give all of the team members that level of happiness on the regular.

Placing his book on the counter, Gio hugs Narancia close. Narancia is the only person Giorno hugs "normally". Its not like he doesn't like hugs- he actually really loves them, they're just really stiff. It's like he never really learnt how to, but it was okay. Narancia's experience with giving hugs could make up for it, and he made sure to give him them often. He could just imagine the stress dripping off him everytime they hugged.

He can feel himself slowly drifting off as Giorno slowly rubs circles into his back, smiling. "G'night Giogio... and thanks"

Giorno sniffs and closes his eyes.

Giorno is awoken by his door crashing open. God can anyone knock?" He opens his eyes and is met face-to-face with none other than Guido Mista.


... what now

He follows him down the hall, into the living room. Bruno was laying flat on the couch, Abbacchio sitting across from him on his signature leather chair scowling. He wonders if Abbacchio ever smiles really, excluding that time when Giorno had burnt his hand on the oven and the older man took five minutes out of his day to laugh his ass off. Fugo and Narancia were going at it in the kitchen, Fugo slamming his head into the table.

Looks normal I wonder whats up-

Mista tosses him a controller, smiling. "Wanna play Mario Kart?"

He was promptly met with a controller to the forehead. It distracts Narancia and Fugo quickly enough that they forget that they were fighting in the first place.

"HAHA! Giorno got you good huh? LOSE-" Narancia's taunts abruptly were cut off by Fugo elbowing him. Sighing, Fugo walked past Narancia (who was buckled over in pain) and sat down next to Giorno.

"I think it's about time we took a break. Mind if I?" Giorno shook his head, allowing Fugo to lay on his shoulder and muffle gibberish. Mista fake-gagged at the interaction, beckoning Narancia over.

"HEY DUDE HOW 'BOUT YOU?" His question was quickly answered by loud footsteps and Narancia plopping nect to him, wearing the biggest grin. "You're on, salad face."

He doesn't remember when, but between drifting off and watching Fugo, it was nearly dinner time. He wasn't too sure who had won, he hadn't paid attention to the screen as much as the back of his eyelids, but from the annoyance from Mista and the laughter of Narancia, he had an idea who was the victor. Small times like this reminded Giorno how much he loved his gang. He was a lot closer to them than he was with really anyone. They didn't fit the conventinal "family" roles, but that was okay.

A small tapping on his shoulder alerted him from his thoughts, making him jump slightly. "Oh, sorry about that. Do you wanna help me make some dinner?" Bruno looked quite tired, probably didn't sleep well. So much work and stress had been passed onto his capo, Abbacchio often found him almost writing in his sleep.

He nodded carefully, not wanting to wake Fugo. Bruno saw this and gave him a faint smile. "How about we transfer him to the couch, hm? I bet that'll be a bit more comfortable." 

After placing the pale teenager onto the couch, he followed the older man into the kitchen. It was modest, the cupboards filled with just enough spices to create a proper meal, and a table with 7 chairs. The table cloth had been picked out by Trish, who was the only one in the gang with the ability to decorate. She had yet to join them from her room. She spent a lot of her time with outside friends. She often visited Giorno after hours of shopping with her girlfriend Sheila, tired from walking in busy malls and sitting in uncomfortable chairs as they waited for food. Trish often told him all about her experiences, from annoying shoppers to complimenting Sheila. He enjoyed her presence, as she often doesn't expect a response and makes him feel comfortable.

They were cooking fettuccine, a simple dish since they were both exhausted. Narancia and Trish equally hated mushrooms, so they kept some of the sauce off the side for them. As Bruno finished up cooking, Giorno set the table. The scent of the pasta must have alerted the rest of the gang, as they were soon greeted with Narancia ducking between them to pick up the extra sauce.

"Don't hog that all to yourself, asshole!" Trish quickly swiped the bowl from the shorter one's grasp and huffed. She quickly poured a large amount of sauce on her pasta, much to Narancia's dismay.

"hey hey HEY! THAT'S MORE THAN I WAS GONNA HAVE!" Narancia yelped, but seemed to accept the situation and sat down frowning. God they're all going to give me a worse headache. He smiled to himself and poured some water in Abbacchio's glass.

Abbacchio was yet to warm up to him. He knew the man did not really hate him as much as he had said, but it was still rough. In the first weeks of being in the gang, Giorno was honestly scared of him, he would often try to avoid him. Though they gradually sort of built a wall of trust, but if he was being honest it could be blown to the floor from a small gust of wind. The older man was staring at him, frowning. It looked like he was holding back on a thought, what it was he didn't know.

"... kid you can stop pouring the water, it's about to overfill."

Oh shit.

He quickly tipped the jug back, stopping the flow. He could hear Abbacchio sigh. He noticed Trish watching the interaction and frowning. She patted the seat next to her, once again returning to her argument with Narancia.

Trish was pretty closed off when they first met, poison dripping from her tongue with every interaction. Something had happened back in Rome that made her slightly weaken her defenses, but she wasn't too found of talking with Giorno. It really just happened one day, something snapped and they became good friends. Maybe it had something to do with similar pasts? Similar feelings? Who knows. They don't really care. They often lay on her bedroom floor listening to music and reading through magazines, occasionally commenting on the models and clothing. She was the only one in the gang who seemed to have some sort of fashion taste, or really taste in general. She once told Bruno off when he tried to buy a yellow checkered to put in Narancia's room. She said it looked like a barn, and made him buy plain ones with frills.

She was a lot tougher than a lot of people gave her credit.

Mista snickered next to him. Looking over to see what the hell he was up to, he was about to launch some of his spaghetti into Abbacchio's hair while the man wasn't looking. He rolled his eyes and smiled. Don't worry Mista, I didn't see a thing. It must have been dust in the air. Its not like he could tell on him anyways.

Right, what did he do to lose his voice? It really started early in his childhood. His mother had given him chicken on scewers, something you should never give a child that age. He had accidentally jammed it down his throat, choking. He must have torn up his throat and insides, as even after healing, his voice never fully recovered. It always stayed hoarse and rough, almost sickening. Once his stepfather heard his pitiful voice, he probably was set onto making sure he never heard it again. It only got worse, up until his early teenage years where he couldn't even talk period. While his breathing issues slowly got better over time, learning different exercises to help the air go through his torn throat, his voice never recovered. He learnt sign language, but most of his team could guess what he was trying to say just by his actions.

He wonders if his mother thinks about him still. Does she regret giving him that scewer? Does she regret leaving him to the anger of his step father as she went out partying? Its useless thinking that now, nothing can change what has been done.

He is snapped out of his thoughts as Fugo clears his throat. Oh. I've been staring at my food. He quickly begins to eat, leaving Fugo's sad expression stuck into the back of his mind. Did he understand? He often wonders if Fugo can read his thoughts. He always seems to know what's wrong with him, but never speaks up. He wonders if he's scared of talking to people about issues, or really just scared of himself. Though, he could say without a doubt that Giorno was the only person in the house right now, or really the world, that he trusted enough to talk about his problems to.

Some nights, when Fugo couldn't sleep, he would quietly knock on Giorno's door. As if he didn't really mean to be there. Each and every time he opened the door he was greeted with the most terrified expression he had come to face. He would beckon him into the room, granting Fugo the permission to lay on his bed as he finished up paperwork. It would take a long time for him to begin talking, the longest time being three hours. He would talk about the things he feared, the things he had experienced in the past, and would spew self degration. Like clockwork, Giorno would set down his pen once Fugo had tired himself out, biting his tongue from tears. He really wanted to comfort him. But the best thing to help Fugo was to listen to him and understand. It takes more than just words to mend a soul. He would turn his chair around slowly, watching Fugo drifting off to sleep. He wonders if Fugo misunderstood him sitting there to ignoring him, he hoped not. He knows if he tried to give him a reassuring hug or try to hold him it would just make things worse. If I could get my hands around that damn professor and those monsters he calls his parents I would absolutely make sure their lives were a living hell. No one deserved what happened to that poor boy. He's just a kid, like me. He's just a kid.

He never planned to get this attached to his team. He had planned to fullfil his dream, he didn't take into account who's lives would be taken into the crossfire once he did so. If he was being honest, before he didn't think he cared. Somehow the literal mafia taught him how to be a better person than his parents. Ironic isn't it.

Once the meal was over, Narancia shot out of his chair with a wide grin. Oh no. Fugo immediately stiffened, frowning.


"Narancia quiet down."

"Oops- sorry Bruno."

Fugo groaned and laid his head on the table. Mista, in return, plastered yet another stupid grin on his face and accepted the idea with open arms. How the hell do we get any work done around here. In all honesty, they haven't got any work in months. I guess this is the break they needed since defeating the old boss. They've mostly been lounging around, reading books and occasionally cleaning the house. This could be a good change of pace, given that they all agreed.

"... well okay, are any of the beaches even open?" Bruno sighs. Narancia's eyes immediately shine brightly, and he does a small victory dance.

Soon after they were planning what to do at the beach, and what to bring. Of course Abbacchio volunteered to keep their luggage safe as everyone else played in the water. Trish wanted to get a good summer tan, sunscreen is most definitely will be brought. Giorno, unlike popular belief, actually didn't burn that easily. Only around his cheeks. He had made the mistake to not put on sunscreen their last trip and for three days he was left with a flushed face. Though, he'll admit, he loved the trip a lot.

"Hey Giorno?"

He look up to Bruno, who was placing some sunscreen on the coffee table in the living room, so they wouldn't forget. His expression seemed calm, but he knew something was up. "What's wrong?"

When he originally joined the group, Abbacchio and Fugo were the only members to know sign language. Of course Abbacchio didn't tell anyone until he recognized Giorno asking him a question one night at the dinner table. From that moment, Bruno was set on learning also, which Abbacchio eventually agreed to (mostly because it was Bruno). He wasn't sure if the others knew, he hoped maybe one day he could properly talk to them.

"Ah, just a bit stressed. I was going to ask if you wanted to go in the water this time instead of sitting on the sand like you usually do." He smiled sadly. "I'm just worried you don't enjoy going to the beach."

It took him a moment to process his statement, but he closed his eyes and sighed. "No, I enjoy these trips. I'm just not a big fan of water, ruins my hair."

"Understandable, but remember to atleast talk to Narancia while we are there. He got very concerned last time, and I literally had to wrestle him not to drag you into the water with us." He gave a small laugh.

Smiling back, Giorno set the final cup he had been cleaning on the counter with a huff. "That sounds like him."  They spent the rest of the evening in silence, sitting on the couch once all of the chores were done. The others would join in about fifteen minutes, once they had gotten their stuff together for tomorrow. Bruno had turnt on the almost too loud television, relaxing and setting his heels on the table. Giorno relaxed also, his shoulders slowly falling eventually leaning against Bruno. Narancia was the first to join them, bouncing right next to them and jamming a dvd into the disc player, with Fugo behind him. Trish was next, bringing in a large blanket that most definitely will be claimed by Narancia by the end of the evening. Mista hobbled in, batting the sex pistols away from the popcorn and accidentally spilling some of it on the floor. Oh well I'll clean that up later. Lastly, Abbacchio was there. He seemed a bit stressed, so Giorno quietly ushered himself and Narancia onto the floor so he could sit next to Bruno.

Thirty minutes into the movie, everyone was asleep. Except for Trish, who was busily typing on her flip phone. She whacked Narancia's sleeping arm away from her head and smiled. They all were going to be very sore in the morning. She shut her phone and closed her eyes.

"Buona notte."