Chapter 1: His Worst Nightmare
Abbacchio's frustrated yells echoed throughout the hallways outside of Bucciarati's office.
"WHAT?! Bucciarati, there has to be some sort of mistake being made here!"
"It isn't up for discussion Abbacchio. Look, I know how unhappy you are about the situation and I am very sorry about that. But look around you! No one else is available to do what needs to be done," he sighed before continuing.
"Narancia and Mista are not back from their excursion of gathering the intel I needed from Rome. And you already knew since last month that Trish was out of town due to a call she received about her mother's funeral papers."
"Bucciarati! Hold on a second!" Abbacchio pleaded. "With all of the respect I have for-"
The capo arose from his work-chair and extended a hand in front of Abbacchio's disgusted face before he could interrupt again.
"Enough. The flight is departing in an hour and I will be leaving now. I am entrusting Giorno's health to you, he's in your care from now on."
Abbacchio uttered an embittered expression from his bared teeth. The mere thought of nursing a spoiled brat to health was enough to make anyone's blood boil.
Bucciarati walked past Abbaccio on his way out of the room and paused before exiting the doorway. He turned around and looked at him in the eye, blue eyes meeting shades of purple.
"For God's sake Abbaccio, the boy's temperature is over 100 degrees! You expect me just to leave him here alone?"
"Well, maybe YOU shouldn't have sent the shit out on a mission knowing fully well that chances of rain will-!"
Abbaccio looked away and gazed towards the other direction. He couldn't believe that the brat infuriated him so much to the point that he actually snapped back at the person who granted his life a new meaning.
A minute silence followed the outburst until Bucciarati's voice broke the quietness of the room, laced with a dour tone.
"Do not let the distaste you have for your teammate let me down. That is my final word about the matter."
Abbacchio heard the heeled footsteps of the capo's shoes exit the room, leaving him to his thoughts. Not only was he forced to interact with the person he resented for two years, but he also had allowed his anger about Giorno to get the better of him, snapping at Bucciarati in the midst of an argument.
Putting his face in his hands, he ruminated on the fact that his worst fears are actually coming true and it was all because of an imperious child. How many times was he going to steal all of the attention onto himself?!
If he was going to survive today, somebody had better be prepared for an ass-kicking after all of this is over.
Bucciarati put the last pages of his confidential documents into the folder of his suitcase and made his way down the hall, towards where the six bedrooms were residing.
The sound of a brassy cough erupting from the third room made Bucciarati's own chest stiffen. There was truth to Abbacchio's words about assigning him on the mission last week with the threat of a rainstorm looming over the forecast, but Bucciarati was sure that Giorno would be fine even if it did start to rain...
It was all a necessary reminder through his ignorance that despite his accomplishments in achieving the impossible, the boy was still merely a human being.
With a light knock at the door, Bucciarati made his presence known before coming into the room.
The blinds were open and the early afternoon sun poured into the room in an effort to ease the discomfort. Making his way in, Bucciarati's eyes caught sight of the teen's golden hair sticking out from under the comforter within the bed.
Noticing that the sheets didn't move upon his entry, Bucciarati lifted the cover himself to reveal Giorno's frame, his face blushed from fevering.
The sound of his name was enough to make Giorno stir out of a nap. He hadn't noticed that someone walked into his room but as soon as he recognized who it was, he leaned forward to sit up.
Bucciarati took a seat at the stool placed next to the bedside. "I'm sorry to wake you, but something has come up and I need to move quickly. How are you feeling?"
Giorno allowed his mind to filter out the events of his lucid dream from current reality for a second before reaching over for the tissue box. "Better than this morning."
Bucciarati explained the scenario about his travels again to him as he had done with Abbacchio a few minutes prior.
"I see." Giorno replied, clearing his scratchy throat from a cough that was pleading to escape.
"I'm sure the conference will be successful despite being announced so suddenly."
Bucciarati's hand felt cold against the teen's forehead, a sensation that caused his whole body to shiver.
"I'm sure it will as well." The capo replied somberly. " Which brings me to my next point..." He hesitated. "I'm leaving Abbacchio to tend to you in the meantime."
Giorno's tired eyes flew open at the words. "B-Bucciarati!" "I don't believe that is necessary, he doesn't have to do that. I can handle this myself."
His heart began to race, he could only imagine the amount of rage Abbaccio had demonstrated upon hearing the news."
The sudden increase in his heart rate made Giorno's head spin, causing him to slump back into the plushness of the pillows.
Bucciarati's tone was clearly set, however, solidifying that whatever statement he had said was surely going to happen, no -if's and's or but's.-
Knowing this, Giorno's head continued to spin unceasingly, contents beginning to churn within his stomach. How in the world was this happening?!
"...What about Fugo...?" He tried as a last attempt.
"If anything were to happen in where Fugo had to use Purple Haze, the virus might kill you regardless of any immunity you might have. Your body is fighting hard enough as it is already." Bucciarati replied, moving to the nearby desk that had a towel soaked in a bowl of cold ice water.
After placing the towel on Giorno's forehead and pulling the bedsheet over his body, he refilled an empty glass of juice and wrote down the medication instructions.
"Abbacchio may have negative feelings towards you, but I put my trust in him. There's no need to stress out over this. Keep the towel on until you can feel it warming up. If you need anything, don't hesitate to tell Abbaccio. Understood?"
Giorno's glassy eyes were now closed but he still nodded reluctantly in agreement, too tired to argue anymore.
"Very well."