Author Note: Please enjoy this preview of my work-in-progress retelling of the part 5 plot. Expect that story to come out over the summer (~July 2020).

Oh hey, second person is now actually addressed to the reader/author (as if we're being told the story). Bruno and Leone's characterization are pretty much set, but I'm still working on Giorno and Gold - so the last section posted here may change dramatically.

Hm, and expect a few more tidbits about Leone's "projects." If I didn't work a demanding day job, I would love to write a whole spin-off detective series just for him. Maybe someday.

On a boat

(Bucciarati)

"Bruno. Is there a reason why it's taking three hours to sail to Capri?"

Leone had appeared at my elbow, looking pale and miserable.

"What? I told you guys the plan."

"You didn't tell me the plan. I was losing my cookies over the back of the boat when you went over the plan."

"Stern," I corrected him absently. I was squinting across the glittering waves, thinking how I liked them better than diamonds. If we never made landfall, I'd be a happier man. "The back of a boat is called the stern."

"Fuck you and fuck your nautical heritage."

So much for my waves. I squinted at my fractious second-in-command instead.

"What, you want to fight about it or you want to hear the plan?"

"Plan."

"You sure? Because it sounds like you'd rather just fight."

"God damn it, Bruno, we've been out here for hours and there's no land in sight. Of fucking course I want to know what's going on!"

"Leone." I tried to muster some patience. "It's not that complicated. We're taking a roundabout route to lose anyone who pursued us from Napoli. That's all."

"That's it? For three fucking hours?"

"Yes, for three fucking hours! What is your problem today?"

"What's my problem? You put me on a boat for three hours for no goddamn reason. There's obviously no one pursuing us, we're in the middle of the fucking ocean and we would see them! You know I'm seasick as hell and the sun is hurting my head. Are you doing this on purpose? Is this because of last night?"

"What? You think I took you on a boat ride to get back at you for disagreeing about a new team member?" I flung my hands up in frustration. "First, I'm not even upset about that. Second, I always listen to you. About everything! Just not this one thing! But more importantly, Leone, when's the last time I tried to get back at you for anything?"

"Three years ago."

Damn his flawless memory. I took a couple deep breaths. No sense fighting Leone, unless I wanted us both coming to pieces.

"Okay, accurate. I already apologized for that, but if it matters, I'm still sorry. And I'm sorry if I took maybe an extra hour more than was strictly necessary on this trip. I enjoy sailing and I never get to do it, so yes, maybe that biased my planning for exactly how safe we needed to be. If you're feeling so badly, maybe you should go below deck and get some rest."

"I can't do that. What if something happens to you?"

"To me? What do you think is going to happen? You said it yourself, we're in the middle of the fucking ocean, no enemies in sight. Besides, I can take care of myself."

"No. What if – Bruno–"

"Are you having paranoia again? Nothing is wrong. Why are you so worried?"

"Those rocks yesterday!"

Oh right, I didn't tell you about the day before. It was the same day I met Giorno, so I'd almost forgotten it myself. There was a man who claimed his stand could tell the future. Fate. Whatever, it's not worth explaining.

"Are you serious?" I wanted to shake Leone, but that's not an option. "You're scared of a ghost story right now?"
"Stands aren't ghosts. Bruno, when Fugo and I followed up with the sculptor at the hospital–"

"Stop. Stop right there. The only thing worse than a prophecy is a prophecy you know about that you're trying to avoid. So his stand foretold my doom. So what? I've been doomed since I joined this goddamn organization."

"But Bruno–"

"There's no 'but.' I'm finally doing something about it. I'm finally clawing my way up out of this hell. I'm not accepting prophecies of doom at this time, thank you."

"But love–"

"Don't you 'love' me," I told him, more fiercely than I meant to. "I have to live my life, Leone, and sometimes that means taking a risk."

"But love, I can't lose you. I can't."

"That's rich, coming from a man who won't even touch me anymore."

I didn't mention that either, did I? You probably knew we were together – damn, it was Passione gossip for a couple years, you must know. People don't know that we broke up. No, years ago by this point.

"Not now," Leone told me, more miserable than ever. "I don't want to do this now."

"You brought it up."

I know. I'm not always kind.

"Beloved, it's been three years. Can't you let it go?"

"Make up your fucking mind, Leone! If I'm letting it go, you're letting it go, too."

"That's not what I – damn, Bruno, that's not what I mean!"

"Isn't it? If you want to mope around saying, oh, you love me, oh, you can't lose me, then why, why won't you consider being together again?"

"You know why not. Besides. You're not short on lovers, last time I checked."

"Is that what this is about? You're jealous?"

"I'm not jealous, I'm worried about you!"

I hate when he's not actually worried about me.

"So 'worried' that you want to fight about adding new talent to the team? So 'worried' that you're hazing the newbie – did you really piss in his tea?"

Yes, he did that.

"How the hell do you know about that?"

"How do I know? Leone, you shouldn't be wearing headphones, even for listening to Blues. They didn't stop talking about it the whole way to the marina. Giorno thinks your stand ability is turning other liquids into piss. He got Mista and Fugo into a serious conversation about how to make that ability lethal. Fugo's pretending that we call you the Piss Lord all the time."

"Those guys are such shit-heads."

"They're not the ones who stuck their dick in a teapot. You realize there are restaurant workers who have to wash that teapot, right? You can give people hepatitis that way. Asshole. I can't believe you did that. Are you thirteen?"

"I had a bad night and I'm having a bad morning. No thanks to you. Besides, you introduced yourself by licking his damn face and telling him you can put anything you want in his mouth. In public."

Also regrettably true.

I crossed my arms. "So you're stalking me again."

"I had to find out who he was! You can't just add some stranger to the team based solely on his stand and the fact that you want to bone him."

"No comment. But if you replayed that fight, you know his stand is incredibly versatile. What a rare and unpredictable ability! And he uses it so competently. And he keeps a cool head in deadly situations, which is a quality sadly lacking on this team."

"Excuse me?"

"Not you. I'm talking about everyone else."

"Mista's not–"

"Mista jumped out a ninth story window and destroyed our car the last time he tried to defend me."

"Fair. But Giorno proved in that fight that he is willing and able to kill you! Why should we take this person onto our team?"

"Did you replay all the way to the end? You heard what he told me?"

"Some bullshit that he wants to clean up the drug trade in Naples. Yeah. You didn't actually buy that, did you?"

"He meant what he said."

"Bruno, he's an ambitious hothead who wants to race up the mafia ladder. Over our dead bodies, most likely. And he's a liar trying to play on your moral leanings."

That earned an eyeroll. "Come on, how would he know my feelings about drugs? Besides what he said he saw during our fight?"

"Overhear some Passione gossip! Buy some intel about you! Sticky Fingers is no secret; everyone knows you used to be the most profitable smuggler in the organization, and no one knows how or why you got out of that line of work. People are still talking about it. Besides, the story about your father was in all the papers; you can still find the article in a library archive. It's not hard to put two and two together."

Trust Leone to know where to find archived news stories. I just shook my head and lowered my voice. It was a small boat, after all.

"Okay, but it doesn't matter whether Giorno meant it or not. He still handed me the perfect blackmail in case he steps out of line. We can report him as a traitor at any time."

"Or he can report you as a traitor at any time." Leone leaned in to speak more quietly. "You agreed to get him onto the team, despite his ambition to undermine the organization. How are you going to answer for that, if he decides to bring that to leadership?"

Did it matter? Nothing matters when Leone gets close enough. I strove to make sense past the swish of his hair, the infinitely comforting scent of his skin.

"Leone, trust me. I know what I saw. He meant it."

"Bruno, are you being willfully stupid? He probably killed Luca just to get to you. He could have planned to kill anyone else from our team who came for him, until he got a chance to speak to you – just to get his invitation into Passione. Are you following? He's a perfect little sociopath."

I leaned away, keeping my hands firmly wrapped around the boat's railings so they wouldn't wander.

"Leone, you are so deep in your paranoia today, it's not even funny."

"Don't ignore what I'm saying just because I'm nuts!"

One step forward put him too close again. If I could just loop my arms around his waist, maybe the world would make sense to me again.

"I'm not ignoring you. I'm listening." I shook my head, trying to clear it. "But you've concocted this whole story just to keep a new person out of our team. A new person that you are rabidly jealous of, I might add. Anyway, even if you're right, what do you propose we do about it? Giorno is in Passione now and there's no changing that. If he's going to betray me, which I still say isn't what's happening, moving him to another team won't help. It will just remove any incentives he has to keep me safe, and any control I have over him."

"You're right. We'll only be truly safe once he's dead."

"Leone!" I shoved him away, half laughing at him. "You can't just kill people you're jealous of!"

"I'm not making a proposal. I'm just stating a fact. Besides, in Passione, you don't have to make an effort to get someone killed. It's just a matter of time."

"You're an asshole."

"But I'm not wrong."

"No. But I'm not putting Giorno in harm's way just to assuage your paranoia."

"And I'm not asking you to." One step closer again. "But Bruno, don't trust him. Even if I'm wrong, he's still a sociopath. Can't you see it?"

"Honestly? No. What I see is a naïve young man with excellent talents and good hair joining our team, and my high-strung ex-lover advisor angsting about it. That's all I've seen so far."

"Yes, obviously I'm biased in my judgment, but for the last time, Bruno, we can't trust him!"

"Leone, I'm not saying you have to trust him. You just have to work with him."

"And I'm saying–"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Leone, this whole argument is futile. You're just working yourself into a fit about nothing." His hair needed smoothing back. For a moment, we both forgot that wasn't my job anymore. "Go take a rest in the shade. Why don't you see if Narancia will share his snacks? That'll settle your stomach for sure."

"Now you're just being cruel."

"A little. But I'm done fighting about this. I'm going to go flirt with the new kid." I tried to walk away. Ruined it. "Unless you've changed your mind about us in the last five minutes?"

"Oh, fuck you," Leone sniped after me.

"Wish you would," I shot back over my shoulder.

"Bruno."

"What?" I threw up my hands, exasperated by both of us. "What?"

Leone walked up next to me, leaned in close. Too close and he knew it.

"You know how much I love you," he told me, his breath warm on my ear.

Sincere. Miserable. Desperate. Bitter. I nearly smacked him. I pushed him away instead.

"Why are you doing this to me? Go suck a dick, Leone. I hope you enjoy it half as much as you used to."

"Just don't die on me," he said so quietly. "I can't face that."

"Oh, sweetheart." I reached for him, stopped myself. "Stop worrying."

"Do you also tell clocks to stop ticking?"

"Yeah. I do. I'm just a dreamer like that." I tried one last time to pull myself together. "Now seriously, I'm going to go talk to Giorno about real, non-flirtatious matters and if you're going to mope around being jealous and miserable, you might as well use the time to fight your hangover because it's not making the seasickness any easier. Go see if Narancia brought any water. Don't you carry aspirin anymore?"

"Fugo said it will hurt my liver more."

Damn know-it-all. I rubbed my eyes.

"Well, he's wrong and clearly you need one. I'm going to need one too, if you don't lay off. Go check if there's a first aid kit."

I walked away, successfully this time.

"Bruno–"

"You can't come with me!"

"No, Bruno, we have a problem. Narancia just disappeared."

So much for that. I rounded on Leone again.

"What? That's fucking stupid," I told him. "We're on a boat. There's nowhere to go. Hey, Mista! Did you see where he went?"

"He disappeared," Leone insisted. "In front of my eyes."

"Narancia!"

"Narancia?"

"Mista?"

Leone grabbed my arm. "Mista's gone, too! There must be an enemy on board!"

"Oh, God damn it."

"You took us on a three hour detour, and they were on the boat the whole time? Fuck dramatic irony. That's fucking bullshit."

I personally agreed. If you know the author, please tell him we said so.

That was how we ended up fighting that asshole who put one boat inside another boat. Very clever, loved it, would have worked if he was more comfortable with the ocean than I am. Dumb fuck.

And that's why I was incensed – furious – out of my fucking mind, when he chose Leone for his hostage. Not that I wouldn't be furious if someone threatened Narancia or Fugo or really any member of my team, but when it's Leone, it's another matter. I thought everyone in Passione knew that, but some people can't spot a gay relationship when it's literally punching them in the face. So. Deserved what he got.

Bonus Interview :)

(Bucciarati)

Why did I have to lick Giorno's face and then punch the shit out of him? Do you know how many people ask me that question, now that he's famous? I should write down my answer and keep it on me at all times.

Listen. I find it helpful to establish early in an encounter that I am violent and unpredictable. Because people tend to read my excellent fashion sense and make the assumption that if I'm gay, I must be softer than the mafiosos they've heard about. So that's incorrect. Gay, yes. Soft, no. I find it's helpful for everyone to know that up front.

I also like to find out immediately my opponent's opinion on The Gays. If a man is straight-up offended if I come on to him – I mean, not just affronted but stain-on-your-honor disgusted – then I know I'm probably going to kill him. In my long years in Passione, I have dealt with all kinds of enemies: law enforcement, infiltrators, traitors, rival gang members, people who just want to keep a bigger cut for themselves. It's not personal when I face those people. When I take them down. I'm just doing a job. We're only enemies because of the way fate has placed us on the game board, so to speak. But when I find someone possessed by homophobia, I know I've found a true enemy.

About a third of the guys in Passione these days are gay, and that's because we systematically went through and cleared out everyone who hated us. That took down a lot of the straights – a seriously disappointing number – and simultaneously earned us a load of recruits from rival gangs. I mean, we took down Gravitas in about two weeks after their gay membership came over. Turned out a lot of their best talent were gay. It's really strengthened Passione's hold in Italy, and across Europe, I think.

We? "We" means Risotto Nero and I. No, we don't talk. We never cooperated or anything. He just happened to be the other gay lead with a hella aggressive team. And then Polpo, capo over both of us, never stood in our way. He was, ah… not disinterested, but not openly invested in the fight, either. Unwilling to show his hand. So to speak.

No, God no, Risotto and I have never been on speaking terms. There's, ah, bad blood between us. This is literally the only thing we ever agreed on, clearing out homophobia from our organization. Well, that and our exceptionally good taste in men. We probably could have had a lot of amazing threesomes, if he wasn't such a fucking psychopath. Oh, God, did I say that? Please never tell Leone I said that. That's unforgivable. How many of these have I had?

Besides, I'm relatively certain Risotto is a monogamous type of person. Call it a hunch. I'm far from that, to the woe of so many lovers. No, it didn't mean a thing when I licked Giorno's face. Damn, are we still on that? Kid's cute but, okay, I'd lick anyone's face just to see their expression next. You know?

Okay, sure, if I had to settle down with just one person? Easy. He's standing right over there by the bar. Insisted on coming along as my security detail for this little interview. That's a joke, he knows I can take care of myself. He's here because we're going to a concert after. No, don't stare – Leone's paranoid enough as it is! No, he can't give you an autograph! What do you take us for, the fucking Sopranos? He doesn't want to talk to you. No photos either, please. Thank you.

Oh fuck, you want to get out of here. That's two Logos gentlemen just walked in the door. I've got the check – no, just go, it's fine. You got any more questions, you just email me, got it, paysan? Alright, get out of here before tables start flying and shit gets unzipped.

Capricious Soul

(Giorno)

Why would we pursue them? We can just wait for the outcome right here.

My stand is not a generous or trustworthy individual. That's the first thing you should know about us.

"Gold, we're supposed to help. Mista's on our team."

And he's very competent, isn't he? So when he comes back having defeated the opponent, we'll congratulate him and call Bucciarati and the others to bring in the boat.

We were sitting at the café by the dock on Capri. I felt like a child having a tea party with my invisible friend, but my "friend" was entirely real. Invisible to everyone around us, though, so I felt quite foolish. I can talk to Gold in my head, but it's much less confusing if I speak and he replies in thoughts. I tried to talk under my breath as I reasoned with him.

"But Gold, what if something happens to Mista? What if he doesn't win?"

Even better. The opponent has to return here to intercept Bucciarati. He'll be tired and hopefully wounded from his bout with Mista. We'll finish him off and take the credit.

"And leave Mista bleeding out somewhere on the roadside?"

Poor Mista.

"Gold, you're atrocious!"

That's why you need me.

Where do these awful, selfish thoughts come from? I was blushing. Gold's mine, but he's not exactly me. I mean, Sex Pistols has personality, but it's still essentially Mista. Sticky Fingers is indistinguishable from Bucciarati; they literally overlap, the stand is basically an extension of his body. So why is Gold so foreign to me?

Try the cappuccino, it looks very good.

"While Mista's out there risking his life?"

So order one for him. If it eases your delicate conscience.

"No! You selfish, piece-of-shit stand, stop giving me bad advice! I bet Bucciarati doesn't have to listen to drivel like this from Sticky Fingers."

Sticky Fingers is a puppet with less autonomy than a man's penis. A penis at least rises of its own accord. Don't compare me to a limp marionette like Sticky Fingers.

"Shut up. Stand, why are you so…" Perverse? Imperious? Arrogant? I never exactly liked myself, but this was a new level of distaste. "Never mind. We have to go after Mista."

How? With what?

"I don't know, you tell me!"

That was decidedly out loud. People looked at me and immediately pretended not to see me. I cupped my hand by my ear, hoping they'd think I had a cellular phone. I lowered my voice more carefully.

"Gold, are you laughing at me? Stop. I want you to help me with this!"

I gladly would, if it was remotely a good idea.

"We'll – we'll hijack a car."

Oh, very clever. Because you have a weapon at hand and you look very intimidating. Love the purple velvet, it just screams deadly carjacker.

"Okay, we'll hotwire a car."

With all the tools you brought with you.

"We'll pay a taxi–"

Good start. To take us where, exactly?

"Gold, you're supposed to help me!" I hissed. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

Oh, but I am helping you. Only you refuse to see it.

"Fine." Damned arrogant stand. Maybe that was me. The insightful part of me that always thought I knew best. "Alright, Gold, what's your plan?"

We wait here. Drink a cappuccino. See who comes back.

"…I'll admit, that plan does have certain merits."

Like remaining in touch with Bucciarati and the rest of the team.

"Playing back-up in case Mista fails."

Not getting ambushed along the road after Mista fails.

"If."

Whatever. Here comes a waiter, order that cappuccino. Oh, right, make it two, if you think Mista's going to survive.

"Gold!" I hissed, exasperated. "How can you be so cold? Don't you care about anyone?"

Only you. Isn't that how you want it?

My stand's strange, cold insect eyes rested on me expectantly. That was a real question, not rhetorical; I could tell in my head. My imperious stand was legitimately asking how to please me. But how could I explain to this heartless entity?

"Yes…" I said carefully. "I want to be your first priority. But Gold, I care about Mista, too."

Not the way I care about you, though, right?

There was an unmistakable flutter of anxiety in my stand's voice in my head. God, this was getting strange.

"No, of course not," I reassured it, reaching to pet its delicate armored fingers. "Nothing could come between us, Gold. But I want him to survive."

Why? I don't understand. He's not us. He doesn't matter.

"He could be a friend."

You've never had friends before. Now's no time to start. This is the mafia, Giorno. No one's going to have your back.

Solid advice, undermined by Gold's pouting tone. I pushed back, purely out of habit – I've always argued back when I caught myself whining. It's the only way to get stronger.

"You don't know that," I told Gold. "This is a good team. They seem loyal to each other. Maybe if I stick around, they'll be loyal friends to me, too."

Don't count on it. Abbacchio definitely has it in for us.

"The Piss Lord? Why would you say that? Oh waiter, two cappuccinos, please."

He already made us drink piss, which I think suggests he doesn't like us much. Or else he likes us altogether too much, but not in a way that should appeal to you. And then didn't you hear what he was saying to Bucciarati on the boat? Before the first opponent struck?

"Of course I did. It's a small boat. But that's only natural, isn't it? He's jealous and he has no reason to trust me yet. I wouldn't trust me yet, either."

And I wouldn't trust him. Or Bucciarati, for that matter. I don't like the interest he takes in you.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

You already know. I'm your intuition. Of course you already know.

I felt my cheeks heat up. Inconveniently, that was the moment when the waiter brought the cappuccinos. I waited a moment to speak.

"Okay, so he watches me. That doesn't mean a thing."

It doesn't?

"So what if it does? Mm, you were right, the coffee here is really great." I dropped my voice below a whisper, mouthing silently into my coffee. "So what if he's interested in me? If he wants to – to kiss me?"

To fuck you.

"Maybe I should let him! Have you thought of that? Maybe I want him to!"

You don't.

I thought about it, sipping the coffee. I never liked coffee before Gold. Maybe it was Gold liking the coffee, not me.

"No, you don't want him, Gold. I do. I like him. I like him very much."

You're not thinking properly. He's much older than you.

"So?"

He's in charge of you. He can put you in life-or-death situations if it suits him.

"What are you implying here, stand?"

You won't have any say in it. If he decides to take advantage of you. He can reach into you like a puppet and you'll have to like it. Because otherwise, next time we're in danger…

"Gold, where do you get these thoughts? He wouldn't treat me that way."

He would. When we fought him? That was some very aggressive licking. You saw how he enjoyed messing with your head – and hitting you, and putting you in positions where you couldn't fight back. He would have killed you and liked every minute of it, if you didn't have me. If he thinks anything of you, anything at all, it's only because of me.

These are the times that I really wonder whether Gold is mine or not.

"I was the enemy then," I whispered back. "Fine, he enjoys beating up his enemies. That's normal. Right? He wouldn't hurt me now that I'm on the team. He looks to me for ideas. He likes me."

Likes you? Likes having power over you, more like. That's what we saw in that fight, and that's what we see whenever he looks at you. Admit that's what we've seen.

"Maybe. I don't know if that's what I'm seeing. You always see the worst in people, Gold."

Again, that's why you need me. I'm the only one looking out for you.

Isn't that what abusive boyfriends try to tell you? Had I been… gaslighting myself into solitude? I had to resist that line of thinking.

"Gold, what if that doesn't have to be true?"

You said nothing would come between us!

Again that anxious flutter.

"But I could have a friend. I could even have a lover."

No! Don't trust them, Giorno! They'll sell you out, sooner or later.

"Is that really a healthy attitude for life?"

Maybe not for most people. But we're not most people, are we? We have each other. You have me. I'm enough. Aren't I enough?

"Gold… You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You're the best part of me. Nothing can change that."

Then why? Why do you want someone else?

"I'm just… curious."

Well, don't be. Oh look, a second cappuccino. You should drink it!

"That's for Mista. When he gets back."

You're being superstitious again. I'm going to drink it.

"Gold, you can't drink things. You're a stand. You don't even have a mouth."

I do have a mouth!

"I mean a proper mouth. With a tongue and an esophagus."

When did you get so curious about your stand's anatomy, hm?

I fought against blushing. Should I really let my own stand embarrass me?

"I mean you can't eat and drink properly, stand! That's all I'm saying."

Sex Pistols eats. Sex Pistols won't work without lunch. What would you say if I refused to work without regularly scheduled espresso breaks?

"God damn it, Gold. Okay. I'll drink it. We'll enjoy it together. We'll order another one for Mista when he gets back."

If.

"I said when and I meant it!"