More angst in this one, but Giorno finally finds an ally.

Warning: References and on-page abuse in this chapter.

Chapter Eight

Sunday was cloudy and Giorno stayed in bed, reading, only sneaking down to grab food from the kitchen when he knew that his stepfather wasn't home. He arraigned the shells he found in his plant pots and wished for the sunny beach again, surrounded by all his friends.

Monday was even cloudier, threatening rain, and Giorno lay in bed longer than usual.

His face still ached and had bruised pretty badly. Part of him wanted to stay home, but he thought about the sometimes annoyed looks he got from the teachers when he would miss days. They were beginning to notice and Giorno was afraid that if they did, his friends would too. He was usually able to pass it off as if he had been sick, but figured that would only work so many times.

Besides, he really didn't want to spend another day tip-toeing around the house, especially with his stepfather and mother both sleeping off their weekend indulgences.

So he pushed himself out of bed and went into the bathroom, putting his hair back as he reluctantly looked at himself in the mirror. He cringed at the purple and red bruising across his right cheekbone. It wasn't swollen anymore at least so it should be easy enough to hide.

He grabbed the old makeup kit his mother had given him. It had been one of the few times she had bothered to teach him anything. He still remembered that day as a small child when she actually sat there paying attention to him, showing him how to blend out the foundation so it looked smooth and natural and, most importantly, covered everything.

"You can't ever let anyone see those," his mother had told him firmly. "They wouldn't understand."

Giorno clenched the makeup brush tighter. Understand what? That he needed to be punished for merely existing? He hadn't thought about it back then because he hadn't known better. He'd never had a father and thought that maybe that was just part of it. But he quickly realized that the other kids at school obviously had different relationships with their parents. Not that he got any better treatment from them. Sometimes he would come home with more bruises than he left with.

And so he'd taught himself the most important lesson of being unassuming. He liked to talk to people, he had just learned not to. Not to reveal too much, not to make a nuisance of himself, and, most importantly, never tip them off to what his situation was like at home.

All of which he seemed to slowly be forgetting when he was with the others. There was just something about them that made him feel safe, like maybe he could trust them with his secret, but he didn't quite have the courage for that yet.

He finished covering the bruises, and his face looked completely smooth and impassive again. Nothing to see here.

He was already going to be late if he didn't get going, though, so he quickly dressed and grabbed his backpack, making his way to school.

He wasn't halfway there before the rain started.

There wasn't anything he could do about it. He didn't have an umbrella. His jacket would keep him from getting too soaked but…

Giorno had a sudden terrible thought as he felt rain drip down his face.

Maybe it wouldn't be that bad, it wasn't raining that hard. He could check his face before he went to class…

But he could already feel the gloopy mess on his face by the time he got to the school. Thankfully, most of the kids seemed to have gone inside by now so Giorno was able to escape their attention. He ducked through the parking lot to take a peek into one of the car mirrors.

His heart sank. The makeup, which was cheap and definitely not waterproof, had started to streak, showing the dark patches of mottled skin beneath.

"Dammit," Giorno breathed, pulling back and quickly hiding around the side of the school building, breathing hard. What was he going to do now? Of course he hadn't thought to bring the makeup with him, and now it looked like his only option would be to go back home.

But then he'd have to get his mother to call into the office for him and he really didn't want to have to do that. If his stepfather found out, it would undoubtedly set him off again. Giorno wasn't sure he could deal with that today.

But he didn't really have a choice. He didn't have any way to fix this and he couldn't be seen in school like this when even the teachers would notice and probably ask where he had gotten the bruises from.

That was when he saw a figure rushing through the gates to the school, a pink umbrella perched over her head.

A thought came to Giorno but it made his stomach turn. Trish might have makeup he could borrow, but if he asked, he'd also have to show her why he needed it…

It was either that or have to go back home and ask someone to call into school for him. Trish was definitely the lesser of those evils. So he took a deep breath and stepped out from around the side of the building.

Trish was really glad she had decided to keep her umbrella in her bag as she hurried toward school, hoping she hadn't missed the bell already. She was running so late she hadn't even met up with Giorno on the way in.

There wasn't really anyone else outside when she got there and Trish swore under her breath, hurrying toward the door before she heard someone call her name.

"Trish."

She looked around in confusion and finally spotted a blond head looking around the side of the building.

"Giorno?" she frowned, heading over. "What are you doing there?"

He ducked back around the corner, and didn't fully look at her as she met him, repositioning her umbrella to cover both of them.

"I just had a favor to ask…" he said quietly, one hand clenching around the corner of the brick wall.

"Uh, sure, what do you need?" she asked.

"I was just wondering… if you had any makeup that I could borrow?"

And that was when Trish caught sight of his face. One side of it was a mess of what looked to be caked-on makeup, but underneath…

"Oh god, what happened to your face?" she exclaimed, stepping closer to see.

Giorno flinched back and raised a hand to cover his cheek, eyes still turned downward.

The bell rang, and Trish shook herself out of the initial shock of seeing Giorno like this. She grabbed his wrist decisively and tugged him toward the side entrance to the school.

"Come on," she told him.

The halls were cleared out as everyone was currently squared away in their classrooms and Trish brought them to the girl's bathroom at the back of the school where no one ever went.

"We're gonna be late to class," Giorno murmured.

"It's all right," Trish assured him and pulled her bag off her shoulder as they got into the bathroom and she pushed Giorno gently over to the counter. "Sit," she told him.

Giorno carefully climbed up to sit on the counter, face still turned away from Trish. She grabbed several paper towels and wet them under the facet before handing them to Giorno. "Here, clean that off to start with."

He took the paper towels and started to carefully clean off his face with a wince. Trish turned to her backpack and pulled out her makeup kit, looking through it to find what she would need.

"Luckily you and I have a pretty similar skintone," she told Giorno.

She glanced up at him again and finally saw the full extent of the bruising on his face now that the makeup was gone.

"That looks pretty bad," she said, eyes widening. The bruise stretched under his right eye, particularly dark across his cheekbone. "How did that even happen?"

She didn't miss how Giorno tensed at the question, hands clenching against the edge of the counter.

"I tripped," he said carefully. "I'm kind of clumsy."

Something uneasy settled in Trish's stomach. "I don't think you're that clumsy. I've never seen you trip anywhere else."

"You don't have to worry about it. It's not that bad."

"If you're not worried about it, why do you want to hide it so much?" Trish asked softly. The uneasy feeling was growing into suspicion that she really didn't want to have to address but…

"Because I…because…" Giorno tried, hands clenching even tighter against the counter, before Trish impulsively reached out and grabbed one of them, wrapping her fingers over top of his. She stared at his face as he stared at their hands.

"Giorno," she said quietly, wetting her lips before she finally asked, "Did someone do this to you?"

Giorno's entire body froze, not even breathing, and Trish's heart clenched because that might as well have been confirmation.

"I did actually hit my face on the counter," he forced out, sounding vaguely defeated. "This time."

"But you didn't trip," Trish realized.

Giorno took a shuddering breath and minutely shook his head.

Trish didn't let go of his hand, her own knuckles white now as she held onto him. "You…you skip school a lot, and never look like you're getting or recovering from a cold. Is it…is it like this a lot?"

Another shuddering breath that had Giorno's shirt straining against his chest and, god, Trish hadn't realized before just how badly his clothes fit and how old they were. Barely fitting his shoulders and looking like they were going to fall apart at the seams.

"Sometimes it's worse," he said with a sort of dark resignation.

Trish's heart fractured even further and she felt heat press at the backs of her eyes. She felt angry too; furious, actually. Giorno had been nothing but nice to her this whole time, along with the others, he'd really helped her feel more at home after leaving everything behind in Sardinia. To think that anyone would hurt him made her want to punch someone in the face.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, not even knowing what to say in this situation. "I didn't know, and I'm sorry."

He shook his head, a wry pull to his lips. "Of course not, I didn't want anyone to know."

"But someone's hurting you, Giorno! Can't you tell a teacher or the police or…or anyone?"

"And what?" he replied tiredly. "Get shipped off to a foster home if I even make it that far? You don't know my stepfather, he would find some way to make my life hell if I got him in trouble." He bit back his words as if realizing he'd said too much and finally released the counter, pulling his hand away from Trish's and wrapping his arms around his stomach. "I'll be able to leave in a few more years and then I won't have to deal with them anymore. In the meantime, I just try to keep my head down as much as possible. I promise you don't have to worry about me, and I'm sorry I dragged you into this as it is."

Trish couldn't stand to hear another minute of that and simply surged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Giorno. His whole body stiffened in shock, but she refused to let go, burying her face in his shoulder to hide her tears. At least Giorno's shirt was already damp from the rain so he probably wouldn't notice—she was going to have to redo her own makeup at this point.

Finally, Giorno seemed to relax and leaned more heavily against her, though he didn't return the embrace.

"Sorry," Trish said as she pulled back, wiping her eyes. "I just had to. It's just…I can't even…"

"Don't cry," Giorno almost pleaded. "I wasn't trying to make you upset."

"Oh, Giorno," Trish said, slightly exasperated as she grabbed a paper towel to blow her nose and finally turned back to her makeup. "Here, let me fix that."

Giorno sat still as she effectively covered the bruises. She ended up having to cover his whole face with the concealer so that it didn't look patchy. She even added a little blush across Giorno's cheeks and nose since he had been at the beach that weekend. With a few tweaks she couldn't really tell the difference when she was done.

Except for the fact that she knew what was being covered and was not okay with that at all.

"You know Leone's dad is a lawyer, right?" she said slowly. "He might be able to…"

"No," Giorno insisted quickly. "And you can't…I don't want you to tell the others, Trish."

She looked up at him. "But they're your friends. They're not going to think badly of you…"

"I'm just…not ready for them to know yet," Giorno insisted. "Promise me you won't say anything."

Trish pressed her lips together as she touched up her own makeup before putting everything back in the bag. "Okay, but, I really think it would be a good idea for you to tell them."

"Someday," Giorno said, but didn't sound very sure about it.

Trish wanted to tell him that someday could be too late. After all, what if someday meant it going too far? Did Giorno need to end up in the hospital before they all found out?

"I hate your stepfather," she said suddenly, turning to Giorno. "Is it okay that I hate him?"

There was a brief, sad smile on Giorno's face as he slid off the counter, picking up his backpack again. "It's not going to offend me any."

Trish sighed and slung her bag back over her shoulder, glancing at her watch. "Crap, we are really late."

"Sorry…"

"No, seriously, you don't have to apologize. I mean it," Trish told him firmly.

"Fine," Giorno replied. "Then you can make the excuse to the teacher."

Trish's mouth opened in slight indignation, but laughed. "Okay, fair."

Giorno gave a small smile and reached for the door, but Trish grabbed his arm before he could leave the bathroom. "Promise me one thing though, okay? If you really need help, tell someone. Even if it's just me. It would just make me feel a lot better."

Giorno turned to finally meet her eyes. "Alright," he admitted. "And…thanks, Trish. I owe you."

He didn't, and Trish wanted to tell him that, but didn't think it would make him feel any better. She wished there was more she could do, but also knew that it wasn't her place to make decisions for Giorno, as much as that thought hurt.

But she managed to school her features as they rushed toward their first class. She refused to tip anyone off that something was wrong, shrugging nonchalantly when Narancia glanced at them with a questioning look as they apologized to the teacher.

If Giorno didn't want to confide in the others then the least she could do was be his shield here so he didn't have to worry while he was around his friends.

If nothing else, Trish could manage that.

"Okay, spill. Why were you two so late to class?"

Giorno glanced over at Narancia as he sat down at their table in the cafeteria, eyes pinned to him and Trish expectantly.

Giorno froze, opening his mouth to come up with some lie. Usually he was pretty good at it, but wasn't sure how to involve Trish.

"Not really your business, Narancia," Trish quickly cut in, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Narancia's eyes widened. "Whoa, no need to get mad, I was just wondering what you guys were doing since you got here like halfway through first period. I thought maybe you'd both slept in today or something." He turned to Giorno as if he were going to elaborate, but Giorno just shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.

"What, are you two like, dating now or something?" Illuso asked from further down the table.

"No, it's not that," Giorno said quickly, embarrassed for Trish. At least the caked-on makeup would make it harder for everyone to see him blushing. Still, a little teasing was a small price to pay for the truth being concealed.

Trish growled. "Ugh, fine, if you have to know…" Giorno froze, heart leaping into his throat before Trish gave a put-upon sigh and continued, "Some jerk splashed me while I was walking to school so I had to go all the way back home to change. Giorno was with me and he just came for solidarity."

Giorno deflated, able to breathe again.

"Aw man, that really sucks," Mista commented.

Bruno nodded in agreement. "I always hate riding to school when it's raining for that reason. No one seems to care if they get you wet, as long as they can get to work on time."

"It's seriously rude," Trish said. "But it was nice of Giorno to come with me. It's always better to be late with someone than to be singled out alone." She turned to him with a smile that was just the slightest bit watery.

Giorno gave her a grateful look, but felt Bruno's eyes on him, just the slightest bit scrutinizing. Giorno forced a smile and casually turned back to his food. "It was no problem," he said.

"Well, you didn't miss much anyway," Narancia told them, seeming to be satisfied enough with the whole story. He then launched into telling about Melone causing a mess in chemistry class last Friday, and Giorno relaxed as everything seemed to go back to normal.

Giorno made it through the day and as he finished gathering all his stuff from his locker, he realized Trish was waiting for him outside. They silently started walking back together. Thankfully the rain had stopped by now, though it was still a bit dreary.

"Thanks again, by the way, for covering for me at lunch," he said a bit sheepishly. "I'm not very good at lying for other people."

Trish didn't reply for a while, pressing her lips together. "I don't mind," she said finally. "I just wish you didn't have to go through any of this."

Giorno shook his head, stomach cramping slightly. "Please don't…" he stopped, but decided it was better to get it out after all. "Don't treat me differently because of it? I don't want it to be the only thing you think of. Maybe that's selfish, but…" He bit his tongue, not wanting to go further. Maybe he had miscalculated and Trish hadn't thought much of him before all this anyway.

But of course she did, otherwise she wouldn't have bothered to help you, idiot. The other side of his subconscious reminded him.

"Oh god, is that what you think?" Trish asked as she turned to him with wide eyes. "You're my friend, Giorno. Seriously. I promise I don't think of you as weak or anything if that's what you're worried about. I'm just processing, but I promise you're still the same to me as always. And if anything, I think maybe I've gotten to know you a little better."

Giorno exhaled slowly. It would take some getting used to, knowing there was someone else who knew his secrets, but…maybe there was also something comforting about it as well. He didn't have to be as alone anymore. And if something happened to him, well…at least someone might know.

They got to Trish's street and she hesitated slightly before she turned to Giorno. "Do you want to come over? I doubt my mom would mind if we just did homework or whatever…"

Giorno offered a smile. "No, it's okay. Really. I'm usually left to myself. I promise."

Trish sighed. "Okay."

"Thanks again, for the makeup. Seriously. You…you don't know how much you helped me," Giorno told her. "I won't forget to bring mine next time."

Trish gave him a wan smile. "No problem. I'll see you tomorrow."

Giorno nodded and they parted ways.

It was thankfully quiet when he got home, and Giorno simply collapsed on his bed, hugging his pillow to his chest and staring out the window where drops of rain still collected from earlier.

There was a foolish part of him that wanted to think Trish knowing his secret would make things better, but he knew well enough that wouldn't be the case. In fact, he was more worried about her than anything. He still remembered the one time he had accidently slipped up and allowed a teacher to see his bruises when he was a child. He'd been promptly pulled from the school, and his stepfather had beaten him so badly he'd had to lay in bed for three days. He still had the scars from that, pale and stretched over his back, still visible despite numerous others that covered them. Still a constant reminder that he should never let anyone know.

He curled up tighter, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing he could just fly away and leave all his troubles behind.

"What are you thinking about?"

Bruno startled slightly as he glanced up at Fugo who held his pencil poised over a notebook as he was in the process of helping Bruno with a math problem that was stumping him.

"Oh, sorry," Bruno sighed, running a hand over his face as he tried to pull his concentration back. "What were you saying about this?"

Fugo put the pencil down, brows pinched. "Your mind isn't on math."

"It rarely is, especially in class," Bruno muttered, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Fugo gave him a longsuffering look. "What's wrong?"

Bruno pushed his hair back, trying to decide what was wrong. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "Just something about Giorno today…I just have this feeling something might be going on with him, but I can't quite place it."

Fugo gave him a contemplative look. "Why? What tipped you off?"

"Well, it's not unusual for him to be quiet, but apparently he and Trish were both late to school today, and when Narancia asked them at lunch Giorno seemed to freeze up and Trish made what honestly sounded like an excuse for him."

"I think you're paranoid," Fugo muttered. "That isn't exactly evidence of anything. Though I wasn't there, so it's probably not my place to say."

Bruno twisted his mouth wryly. Was he just paranoid? Hyperaware of anything slightly out of the ordinary because of what happened to Fugo? It was entirely possible.

And yet.

"He seemed fine at the beach Saturday," Fugo pointed out.

Bruno tilted his head in acknowledgement. But then, Giorno always seemed fine. And perhaps that was what made Bruno slightly suspicious. The fact that he never seemed to show a negative emotion, actually seemed to go out of his way to make sure people didn't view him negatively or think that he wasn't content in the moment.

"I'm sure I'm just overreacting," Bruno said finally. "I should probably just stay out of other people's business."

"You have a good gut instinct," Fugo commented and looked down at his hands. "After all, you knew something was going on with me before anyone else did. Maybe before I even really wanted to acknowledge I had a problem myself. It might be a good idea to keep an eye on Giorno. If something is going on with him, the least we can do is be ready. It's probably nothing, but if it is…"

Bruno offered a small smile. "Well, at least you don't think I'm going crazy or anything." He stood and closed his text book. "But I will be if I do any more math right now. Papa will be home soon. We can finish this after dinner."

Fugo nodded and they both started to work on dinner while Bruno played the scene at lunch over and over in his head, trying to figure out if he had missed anything, or if he was, indeed, just overreacting.

Giorno managed to make it through the rest of the week one day at a time. His bruises healed, though he still had to cover them with makeup every day. For the most part he was able to dodge his stepfather, though the man seemed increasingly angry, often drunk in the evenings. Giorno heard him yelling a lot about work, but tried to tune it out. It wasn't his problem.

Friday before he left school, Mista asked if he wanted to join him and Narancia to see a movie that night.

"Everyone who's seen it says it's really awesome," Narancia added. "You should come!"

"I don't know if I'll be able to make it," Giorno said hesitantly. He'd love to go, but he would have to see if he had the money for it. His stepfather had put less in his allowance this week so he didn't have as much left over as usual.

"Well, you have my number, right?" Mista asked and Giorno nodded in confirmation. "Just call me if you decide you want to go, and let me know where to pick you up. There's a showing at eight, so probably be ready around, like, 7:30?"

"Okay, I'll let you know," Giorno told him as they parted ways for the day.

Giorno checked to see what money he had left over once he got home and was disappointed to see he only had a couple bills left. He doubted it would be enough. That gave him two options. He could tell Mista he wasn't coming, or he could ask for his next week's allowance early and hope his stepfather was in a good enough mood to give it to him. Frankly, after last weekend, he wanted to spend as little time at home as possible. Maybe if the movie went late enough he would even take Mista up on his numerous invitations for Giorno to crash at his place for the night—Narancia probably already was. He'd have to be careful with his still healing bruises, but he was used to that. Anything to get him out of here, it would be worth the risk.

So he took a deep breath and headed down to his stepfather's office.

The man was sitting at his desk with his ledgers out, tallying numbers as Giorno paused in the doorway.

"What do you want?" the man growled around the cigarette tucked into the corner of his mouth.

Giorno stepped further inside the room. "I was wondering if I could have my allowance for next week early?"

Giovanna's scowl deepened. "What the hell do you need it for? It's the weekend."

Giorno shifted from one foot to the other. "I know, but I was hoping to go see a movie tonight. I only need a couple extra lira for the ticket—"

"A movie?" Giovanna cut in sharply. "Is that what you've been doing with that money?"

"It's…an allowance," Giorno pointed out.

"For school necessities, didn't I make that clear?"

Giorno clenched his hands, anger blossoming in his chest that he couldn't quite hold back. "If it's supposed to be for school necessities only, you didn't even give me extra to buy a new backpack, I didn't even have enough left after that to buy lunch for the rest of the week."

"Ungrateful little shit!" Giovanna snarled, surging up from the table.

"I'm not trying to be ungrateful," Giorno said even as he knew he was digging himself deeper. "It's the same amount of money, just two days earlier."

Giovanna hooked his hand into Giorno's shirt, yanking him forward as he threatened to rip the thin material.

"Is it those little friends of yours who are teaching you how to talk back to me? You want me to make it so you never see them again outside of school?"

"I didn't mean to talk back," Giorno tried before Giovanna slammed his head down against the desk. Giorno gasped at the impact. He'd managed to partially catch himself on his arms, and they bruised instantly. He could hear his stepfather struggling with his belt, sliding it out of its loops.

"I've had just about enough of you, brat. Get up and take your shirt off."

Giorno pushed himself up. He wondered how bad it would be if he simply struck Giovanna as he turned around and ran out the door. Would the bruises and scars be enough to prove that his stepfather was abusive, or would the man simply pay off the cops like he had those teachers who had gotten suspicious before?

A hand buried itself in his hair, yanking hard. "Are you trying to piss me off even more? Do what I told you, you little prick!"

Defeat washed over Giorno and he shakily pulled his shirt over his head. Giovanna grabbed his shoulder roughly and shoved him so he had to brace himself against the desk. That was when the blows started.

Giorno tried to bite back the cries of pain, but the blows only seemed to get heavier. He could feel new fissures opening on his back, a couple trickles of warm blood seeping down his sides.

One particularly brutal blow forced him to collapse onto the desk and Giovanna made sure he stayed there with a hand still twisted in his hair, holding him down as he delivered several more punishing blows as Giorno choked back sobs of pain.

Finally, Giovanna stepped back, panting from anger and the exertion, threading his belt back through his pants loops. "You're not getting any new allowance this week. Now get the fuck out of here."

Giorno shakily pushed himself upright, back singing, on fire. He clutched his shirt to his chest as he staggered toward the stairs and up to his room.

He collapsed in bed on his stomach, just focusing on breathing through the pain. It hadn't been this bad in a long time. He hadn't expected it to be this bad.

Giorno furiously blinked away the hot wetness in his eyes. It didn't do any good to feel anything. And really, the pain was so overwhelming, that he didn't have room to feel anything emotional at the moment.

He did feel regret that he wouldn't make it to the movies with Mista and Narancia that night. He probably should call to tell them, but there was no way he would be able to pass it off that nothing was wrong. He had agreed to call if he needed a ride, so he hoped Mista would figure something had come up. At least no one knew where he lived and wouldn't show up there anyway. No one but Trish. And Giorno trusted her to keep his secrets.

So it looked like it was just going to be another weekend of lying in bed, trying to pretend he was anywhere else. Those kinds of days seemed to have become increasingly frequent.