And we are officially on the last part of this fic! This part focuses mostly of Bruno and Trish, but of course the others will be there to support them.
TW: This whole part contains a lot of hospitals and discussion around injured parents and also death of a parent, so please keep that in mind if that's something you don't want to read right now.
Part Four
Lights Will Guide You Home
(Title taken from 'Fix You' by Coldplay)
Chapter Sixteen
Trish cracked the eggs into the bowl and whipped them up, adding some cream. She loved to get the chance to cook on Saturday mornings. Her aunt usually went out to run errands and it was just her and her mom.
Who still hadn't gotten out of bed, but that wasn't entirely unusual either. She seemed to be getting out of bed less and less these days.
Trish pushed those thoughts out of her head though. She was in a good mood this morning. The sun was out, the weather was changing, and it was only two months before they were out of school for the summer. After that she just had one more year to go and then she was free.
She poured the eggs into the pan, and threw some vegetables in after them, stirring gently as they cooked. Keeping an eye on them, she turned back to make the finishing touches to the fruit parfaits she had made to go with it.
Once everything was done, she loaded the food onto a tray and carried it toward her mother's room.
"Good morning, Mama," she said cheerily as she pushed the door open. She quickly set the tray down on the side table, careful not to knock over the copious bottles of pills, before she went over to open the windows, letting in the sunlight. "Isn't it beautiful outside today?"
Her mother stirred, eyes opening slowly. "Oh, Trish. Is it morning already?" she asked tiredly.
Trish forced herself to keep smiling. "Yup, I made breakfast. It's Saturday, remember?"
"Of course," her mother said and made an attempt to sit up. Trish hurried to help, propping her thin shoulders against the pillows. Once she was upright, Trish grabbed the tray and settled it over her lap before climbing into the bed next to her, taking up her own plate.
"This looks lovely," her mother told her, though didn't make a move to eat.
"It's for eating not looking at," Trish reminded her, taking a bite of her own food.
Her mother smiled and picked up the fork, taking the tiniest bite of egg.
"I can cook more when summer comes," Trish told her. "Maybe you can teach me some more recipes?"
"That sounds nice," her mother replied, picking at the fruit on the parfait. "Do you have any other plans for the summer?"
"Well, we'll be having a party for Fugo at some point before he leaves for university. I'd like to spend more time at the beach too. Maybe someday you can come down there with me. Then you can meet Giorno and Bruno and the others." She knew this would never happen, after all her mother could barely make it out of bed, though Trish did hold out hope that maybe the sea air would bring her some vitality. And she really wished she could show off her friends. She knew her mother would love them.
"That sounds nice," her mother said almost wistfully. "I miss the days when we used to go to the beach all the time."
"I do too," Trish said quietly, a pang in her heart. "I've also…been thinking of looking into a fashion school."
"I know that's exactly what you've wanted to do since you were a little girl," her mother said softly, smiling. "I'm sure you'll find the perfect place."
She looked like she was about to drift off again and Trish glanced down at her plate. "Mama, you need to eat something before you take your medicine."
Her mother picked up the parfait again and took a half-hearted bite. "I know, cara, I'm just not that hungry."
Trish finished her own food as she coaxed her mother to take a few more bites, then made sure she took her medicine before she let her go back to sleep.
Trish carried the tray back into the kitchen just as her aunt was coming in, dropping some grocery bags onto the table. She took one look at the tray and pursed her lips.
"She's still not eating?"
Trish shook her head, abandoning the tray on the counter before heading to her own room, not even staying around to help her aunt put the groceries away. So many months and so many doctor visits and her mother was still sick. Nothing helped, no matter how many medicines or treatments they tried. She only ever got worse, and Trish didn't know what to do anymore.
She curled up in bed, hugging her knees to her chest and she fought not the let the tears flow. Because she feared that if she let them go, they might never stop.
Saturdays at the Bucciarati household meant Paolo heading off to the pier to ferry tourists around for the day, and the three boys loading up the truck with the previous day's catch to take into the fish market. It was a nice chance for all of them to get out and Giorno and Fugo had been glad to have this opportunity to help out, giving back to Bruno and his father for everything they had done.
"There's a lot of people in the market today," Fugo commented as they set up.
"That's because the weather's so nice," Bruno said, kicking aside a chunk of ice from one of the coolers as he opened it to display the pristine fresh fish inside.
"Summer is almost here," Giorno added wistfully, looking up at the mostly cloudless sky. "I'll have to start thinking of my planting schedule for the next few months. Some of the seedlings I've started are definitely going to have to be transplanted." Everything he had grown seemed to be proliferating at a much faster pace than it ever had back at his parent's house. It was almost like even his plants felt more free.
"You really should start selling some of them in the market," Bruno told him. "I bet a lot of people would love to buy fresh herbs to go with their seafood."
"Exactly," Fugo agreed. "You could even suggest recipes and pairings."
"Well, Bruno's the cook, I just grow the plants," Giorno replied as he set down another cooler, feeling both slightly self-conscious and pleased at their enthusiasm.
"I'm sure I could come up with a couple things," Bruno assured him before he turned to greet one of their regulars, wrapping up her usual three fish and passing the money to Fugo who manned the cash box.
The amount of people had them through almost half their stock before the first hour.
"At this rate, we might even have some time to spend the rest of the day at the beach," Bruno said wistfully.
"That would be nice," Fugo agreed. "We should call the others and see if they want to come over."
"We should!" Bruno replied.
It had been a while since they'd had a beach day. With school quickly coming to an end for the year—and Giorno still couldn't quite believe it—all of their teachers had been putting them through extra work to prep for their finals. With all the ups and downs and changes this year had held, Giorno sometimes felt like he was only barely hanging on by a thread, but somehow he was still going and summer's approach was a good motivator.
Giorno was just bagging up several pounds of clams for someone when he heard a snide voice behind him.
"So this is how you choose to spend your time now? Working in the fish market?"
Giorno spun around and his breath caught in his throat at the familiar face behind him, eyes boring into his, holding a sort of manipulative hurt that Giorno forced himself to push aside.
"Mother," he said shortly. "Can I get you something?"
"Is that all you're going to say to me?" she demanded.
"Yes," Giorno replied. "If you don't want any fish, I can't help you."
Bruno and Fugo glanced over at him, watching the scene but not stepping in.
"May I suggest the clams? They're very fresh," Giorno added as his mother continued to stand there.
"I never put you to work making money for me," the woman blurted, pointing a finger at the fish as if that would make some kind of point.
"Maybe I don't actually mind selling fish," Giorno said. "And maybe…I do it to repay the kindness of my new family."
That seemed to break something inside of her and his mother's fists clenched as fury washed over her face. "I'm still your mother! You can't change that!"
Giorno felt the freedom of his new life swell in his chest, giving him the courage to say what he did next. "Biologically, no, I can't change that. But maybe you should ask yourself why you care so much now. You could never be bothered to pretend you were my mother before. So what is it, jealousy? Or is it just the fact you can't stand the thought of someone taking your things away from you? Or, in my case, your one excuse to make people pity you."
She looked even more stunned as if she had no idea who she was talking to, and she would partly be correct. After all, Giorno was a million miles away from the boy he had been before he left that hellhole.
His mother opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something when another figure appeared out of the crowd.
"Well if it isn't the little brat," Giovanna spat, almost instinctively seeming to put his hand to his belt. Giorno felt his stomach turn, but he refused to show any fear. Giovanna couldn't touch him anymore.
As if to reiterate that, Bruno and Fugo moved pointedly to flank Giorno.
"You're not allowed to be near him," Fugo pointed out to Giovanna. "Court order, remember?"
"You stay out of it, you smug little runt," Giovanna snapped before his eyes snapped back to Giorno. "You have any idea how much you fucked my life up? You proud of that?"
"I can't say I'm disappointed," Giorno replied honestly.
Giovanna's face turned red. "You just been practicing running your mouth this whole time? You think that makes you tough? I know the sniveling coward you really are. Maybe I should show your little friends your true colors."
Fugo and Bruno pressed closer, but Giorno forced himself not to flinch as he continued to face the man. "A coward? I would call into question your own cowardice since you seem to make it a point to only try and intimidate high school students. Did you run out of debtors to shake down?"
He probably shouldn't have gone so far, but he had been unable to stop. Giovanna turned even redder and lunged forward despite his wife attempting to hold him back.
"You little shit!"
Bruno made a move at the same time, dumping an empty cooler of ice and fish water out across the ground in front of him, splashing Giovanna and Giorno's mother both with the contents.
Giorno's mother screamed, jumping back and Giovanna swore as he slipped on the ice, falling directly on his ass.
"Sorry, didn't see you there," Bruno said as multiple people in the market turned to look at the commotion.
Giovanna seethed, scrambling to his feet as quickly as possible while Giorno's mother bemoaned her shoes, glaring daggers at Giorno and Bruno.
"You really should leave before we call the police," Fugo told Giovanna, holding up his phone. "You wouldn't want your day to get any worse."
"You little—"
"Hold on," Giorno said and wrapped up two fish, handing them over to his mother, pushing them directly into her hands. "On the house. It's the least I can do for the trouble of being born."
"Don't bother coming back for more either," Bruno told them firmly. "We will not be serving you here again. You'll have to buy from someone else."
Giorno's mother stared at him blankly, looking ridiculous with her shocked expression holding the fish automatically before Giovanna grabbed her arm and hauled her off.
Giorno exhaled slowly, but felt invigorated more than anything.
Bruno and Fugo spun back toward him, looks of gleeful shock on their faces.
"Did you…just give your mother fish as an apology for being born?" Fugo asked slowly.
"I think so," Giorno said feeling slightly bemused at the idea himself before he started to giggle, the feeling of cut strings causing his body to feel lighter than ever and the relief bubbled up.
Bruno and Fugo laughed along with him, Bruno throwing an arm around his shoulders. "That was honestly, amazing GioGio. I'm so proud of you."
Giorno beamed, unable to stop grinning at the feeling of triumph surging through him.
"Hey, you kids selling fish or not?"
"Ah—sorry signore, I'm coming," Bruno called and turned back around to help the customers. "What can I get you today?"
They sold out around noon and as they were cleaning up, Fugo called the others to see if they wanted to go to the beach.
"Well," he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Leone says he doesn't want to, Mista and Narancia are out looking at apartments before work, and I couldn't get a hold of Trish."
"She might be out doing something already," Giorno said. "Maybe we could stop by her place on the way back to see if she wants to come?"
"Sounds good," Bruno replied as he started to load the used coolers back onto the truck.
They all piled in and left, feeling like they had accomplished a lot that day. Especially Giorno who was still flying high on his newfound confidence.
Trish worriedly continued to check on her mom for the rest of the day but she still didn't wake up much and when she did, she seemed to be in pain. Trish hated seeing her like this, especially knowing there was nothing she could do.
When the doctors had suggested a new treatment a couple months back, they'd all thought it was working at first; her mother had seemed to have more energy, and seemed more herself again. But now she was worse than she had been before and Trish couldn't understand why. That was the whole reason they had moved to the mainland. So they could find better doctors who would actually be able to help, but so far none of them had done anything.
Trish didn't want to give up hope, but at the same time, she was so tired of having false hope. It only hurt worse when nothing came of it.
Trish was trying to get into a book when she heard the doorbell ring. Her aunt was out back working in the yard, so she went to answer it herself and saw Giorno standing there.
"Oh, hi," she said, slightly surprised. "What's up?"
"We got through with the market early today so we were planning on hanging out at the beach for the afternoon," Giorno told her. "We thought you might like to come."
"Oh, um…" Trish hesitated. On one hand, she would love to go to the beach, but she also knew she wouldn't be able to enjoy it with how worried she was about her mom. She would rather be here where she could keep an eye on her. "Um, I'd like to, but maybe not today."
"We can drive you back later if that makes a difference," Giorno told her with a small smile.
Trish bit her lip. "Well, it's, uh, girl issues," she blurted, not knowing what else to say.
"Oh," Giorno replied, cheeks tinting slightly. "Well, I…hope you feel better. I'll see you Monday then?"
"Yeah," Trish nodded and closed the door as he headed back to the others.
Trish watched them longingly out the window for a second before she turned away and checked the time. It was almost time for her mom to take more medicine and she should probably get her up to try and eat something again.
She was in the kitchen when her aunt came in from the yard, heading over to the sink to wash the soil off her hands.
"Trish, honey, can I do anything to help you?" she asked.
The caring concern on her face almost made Trish's eyes fill, but she smiled and shook her head. "No. I'm fine."
She was fine. Even though sometimes it felt like she was the one who was sick. She would keep telling herself that until she wasn't.
Bruno, Giorno and Fugo enjoyed their afternoon at the beach before heading back home in the evening to see what they could cook for dinner. Bruno was somewhat surprised that his father wasn't back yet.
"It is tourist season now," Fugo commented as he chopped vegetables. "He's probably going to be working longer."
Bruno nodded but still, he worried about his father overworking himself. He'd looked tired recently and Bruno hated to see him pushing himself like that.
"Once summer comes we'll be able to help him more," Giorno reminded him.
Bruno smiled. "Yes, I know."
Dinner had finished and they sat down to eat it without Bruno's father. They were halfway done before he showed up.
Bruno instantly got up. "Papa, do you need any help with the boat?"
"I already took care of it," Paolo replied, wearily kicking his shoes off by the door. "Sorry I'm so late. The last clients wanted to stay out longer."
"I hope they paid extra," Fugo muttered.
"It's all right," Bruno told him. "There's plenty of dinner left."
"I'll make up a plate for you," Giorno said, hurrying into the kitchen.
"How was the market today?" Paolo asked as he sat down at the table, thanking Giorno as he put a plate in front of him.
"Good," Bruno replied. "We sold out of everything by noon."
"That's good. I wish I could have gotten more over there then."
"Maybe next week," Bruno said.
His father hummed and turned to his food.
Sunday was pretty much the same. Bruno and the others finished up the rest of their homework in preparation for Monday. Bruno had to remind himself that every week brought him closer to graduation. Not long now.
At lunch on Monday, Bruno regaled all the others about how Giorno had faced off with his mother and stepfather in the market, and Giorno was both embarrassed at everyone's cheers and proud of himself.
"Nice one," Leone said, actually looking proud.
"Hell yeah." He even got a fistbump from Risotto.
"You had every right to tell them that, Giorno, I'm just sorry I wasn't there to see their faces," Trish told him with a smile. There was something about it that looked half-hearted, tired. Trish really looked tired, Giorno thought. They all were of course, but it just seemed like something else was hanging over her.
"So, Narancia and I finally found the place for us," Mista was saying, breaking Giorno out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, it's really nice, and it's in the price range," Narancia grinned. "The landlord said there's no reason we shouldn't be able to move in after graduation."
"That's great!" Bruno exclaimed. "We'll definitely all help you move in."
"And my mom knows a lot of people who are always getting rid of stuff, so you can just give her a list of any furniture you might need," Leone told them.
They talked a little more about plans but when the bell rang, Giorno followed Trish to throw away his trash.
"Trish," he called, and she glanced up at him. "Um, are you all right?"
"Yeah, of course," Trish replied with a smile that was perhaps a little too bright. "Why do you ask?"
"You just seem, I don't know, tired," he replied lamely, wondering if he had been imagining it.
"Oh, well, I am I guess. The last couple weeks have been a bit stressful. But I'm okay," she reassured him.
"Okay," Giorno replied and followed her to class, not quite believing it.
Trish slogged through the school day. Giorno had been right, she was tired. Her mom hadn't eaten anything again that morning and Trish was really starting to worry about how she seemed to be wasting away before her eyes. It didn't seem to matter how much she and her aunt tried, how many of her favorite foods, they made, they just couldn't get her to eat.
Trish left school quickly without saying goodbye to anyone, hoping maybe to get a nap in before she did her homework. She really hadn't slept the night before, her worry keeping her up.
However, when she got home, she found her aunt leading her mother out to the car.
"Oh, Trish there you are, I was going to try to get a hold of you," her aunt said as she reached for the car door.
"What's going on? Mama?" Trish asked, stomach roiling in trepidation. Her mother looked awful, especially out in the sun. Sallow, gaunt, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders even though it was a warm day.
"Oh, I'm just not feeling very well, Trish," her mother said, trying to offer a smile.
"I'm taking her to the hospital," Trish's aunt said as Trish hurried forward to help get her mom settled into the car.
"I'm coming with you," Trish said insistently and hopped in the car before her aunt could protest.
The rest of her afternoon was spent in the hospital waiting room, watching the other people come and go. Some of them sick or injured, others waiting anxiously for their own loved ones. Trish tried to do her homework to distract herself, but found she could barely concentrate on it.
She glanced at her aunt who was sitting next to her, but the woman was busy flipping through a magazine, a worried pinched look on her face. Trish loved her aunt, but she just had never gotten into the habit of talking to her much. Trish really wanted her friends. She wanted to talk to Giorno. She should, she realized. It was time to tell them. Especially if…if her mom got worse. She wouldn't be able to hang out with them as much then.
The doctor came out and Trish's aunt disappeared to talk to him, leaving Trish all alone again, arms curled around herself in the cold waiting room.
It seemed like an eternity for her aunt to come back and when she did, she didn't look any less worried. Trish stood to meet her.
"What did they say?"
Her aunt shook her head. "They don't know. They're going to do more tests."
"It's always more tests!" Trish snapped, several heads turning to look at her. She took a breath, unclenching her hands and her aunt put an arm around her.
"I know. It's hard for all of us but they are doing everything they can." She sighed. "She's going to have to stay here for a couple days though, so why don't we go make sure she's comfortable, then I'll take you home for dinner?"
Trish reluctantly agreed, even though she really didn't want to leave her mom right now.
As the doctor led them back to the room, Trish felt more and more sick as she watched the nurses getting her mom settled in the bed, too many wires connected to her. She still somehow looked up and managed a smile for Trish as she came over to the bed.
"I just wanted to say goodbye," Trish told her. "We're going home for dinner." She refused to cry. She could visit her mother again tomorrow. Everything would be fine.
"Lucky," her mother told her with another small smile.
Trish gave her a watery smile back. "Maybe tomorrow I'll sneak something in for you."
She reached out to squeeze her mother's hand before she followed her aunt out of the hospital and back to the car. Neither of them spoke on the way home, and very little over dinner.
Trish went to her room instantly afterward, laying on her bed and just staring at the ceiling instead of finishing her homework. She thought about calling Giorno, if for nothing else but to have someone distract her, but she didn't want to spring something like this on him over the phone. It was her own fault for not telling anyone before, she supposed.
She curled up, hugging one of her old stuffed animals tightly as she tried to fight against the oppressive helplessness that was constantly fighting to overtake her.
Bruno wasn't sure what woke him early the next morning until he lay in his bed and listened to the front door close.
Frowning, he got up, glancing at the clock and seeing it was only a little after 5 a. m. Still dark outside.
He got up and hurried out to open the door, glancing around and seeing his father loading some fishing equipment into the truck.
"Papa," Bruno called, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Are you leaving this early?"
His father glanced over at him. "Sorry, did I wake you up, Bruno?"
Bruno shook his head. "It's all right, I just didn't expect you up this early."
Paolo loaded a net into the car with a sigh. "I had a client who insisted on being taken out early."
Bruno frowned. "Papa, I know you make good money doing this, but it's not worth overworking yourself."
"You know I like working, Bruno," his father replied.
"I know. You just seem tired lately," Bruno told him sincerely. "Promise me you'll take a nap this afternoon when you get back?"
Paolo gave a fond smile and reached out to ruffle Bruno's hair. "All right. I only have the one client today, so I should have time to get a nap in this afternoon."
Bruno smiled. "All right. Have a good day, Papa."
"You too," Paolo replied and finished loading his truck before leaving for the pier.
Bruno went back to bed, catching a little more sleep before they had to get up for school.
"Where's your father?" Giorno asked with a yawn at breakfast.
"He had someone who wanted to go out early," Bruno told him with a sigh before he turned to Fugo. "Make sure he takes a nap when he gets back? He's been working himself so hard."
Fugo nodded in agreement. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't try to do anything else today."
Bruno smiled in thanks and finished his breakfast before he and Giorno went to get ready to go to school.
Trish had a restless night and dragged herself through her morning routine as her aunt got ready to go to work.
"I'll take you to visit your mom this afternoon when you get back," she said.
"Okay," Trish said as she grabbed her backpack and headed out the door after her.
She walked to school alone. As happy as she was that Giorno was living with Bruno now, she did miss their quiet walks to school. It had been a pleasant start to her mornings most of the time.
Her stomach turned as she thought again about telling him, but he had trusted her with his secret and hers really shouldn't be a secret at all. It was just that she wasn't very good at having people worry over her when she knew they had so many of their own problems. Still, it was the omission that made her feel the worst.
When she got to school, she saw Narancia and Mista chatting out on the steps and waved to them, but headed directly inside.
She was at her locker when she spotted Giorno coming down the hall.
He smiled and waved as he caught sight of her and she gave him a small smile back.
"Good morning," Giorno told her. "Did you get some better sleep last night?"
"I…yeah, I guess," she lied before she could stop herself, but then bit her lip, glancing around. None of the others were around at the moment so she took a steadying breath and said, "Giorno?"
He watched her expectantly and she exhaled slowly. "Can I talk to you after school? There's just…something I want to tell you."
Giorno's eyes pinched with a slight concern. "Of course. I'll be here."
A small bit of relief flooded through Trish and her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Okay. Thanks."
Narancia hailed them as he came down the hall and tossed his books in his locker before they all headed toward their home room, Giorno casting one last, reassuring glance toward Trish.
As difficult as it might be for her to tell him, she knew she would feel better after doing so. Only a few more hours to go.
Fugo grabbed a quick bite of lunch before he got ready to go to the library to do a little research. Giorno and Bruno had both the bikes, but he didn't mind getting out and walking every once in a while either. It was nice to be out in the fresh air.
As he was closing the house up behind him, he glanced over toward the ocean and saw a lot of people gathered on the pier. Past the crowd, he could see Signore Bucciarati's boat back in the harbor, which was strange because Fugo thought he would be out all day. Unless he'd just come back to pick up more people.
He could hear the fishermen gathered around shouting something but couldn't tell what from so far away.
Some strange sense of unease tugged on Fugo's stomach and he debated on whether or not to head down there before the library.
That was when the ambulance sirens sounded out and Fugo simply dropped his bag and broke into a run, sprinting down to the marina.
"What's going on?" he demanded to one of the groups of fishermen as paramedics raced past to the docks.
One of the fishermen turned to him. "You're the kid who's been staying with Bucciarati, right?"
"Yes," Fugo said, trying to quell the roiling in his stomach.
The man's face was grim. "Two of the other men just brought him in. He got shot out at sea."
Bruno was putting as much concentration as possible into listening to the math teacher, trying to retain anything that was being said, resisting the urge to simply glance over at Leone's paper.
The teacher was in the middle of explaining a problem on the board when the door opened and one of the office aides poked her head in.
"I need Bruno Bucciarati to come to the office," she told the teacher.
Bruno's head shot up, as did Leone's, looking over at him with eyebrows raised. Bruno felt Risotto kick his chair, and he turned to send a brief frown at him.
"Bruno, you're excused," the teacher said.
Bruno stood up, confusion and a bit of worry swirling through him. He had no idea what this was about. He wasn't failing as far as he knew, and he didn't think he'd gotten into any trouble.
That could only mean it was some kind of emergency.
His stomach clenched as he followed the aide through the halls and toward the office.
Principal Polpo still seemed to be in his office and Bruno could hear him talking on the phone, but his secretary motioned for him to come sit in the chair by her desk, a sympathetic look on her face.
"What's going on?" Bruno demanded as he sat down.
She clasped her hands together in front of her. "Bruno, honey, your father was just admitted to the hospital."
His heart skipped a beat. "What?! Why, what happened?!"
She shook her head. "I don't know the details, I'm sorry. But you're free to go for the rest of the day. Do you need a ride to the hos—"
But Bruno was already out of his chair, sprinting out of the school. He didn't think, he just grabbed his bike and raced out of the school parking lot.
A car nearly took him out as he peeled around the corner and Bruno swerved, the bike skidding out from under him. He gasped, skidding across the sidewalk several feet. He pushed himself up shakily, forcing himself to breathe as he ignored the torn elbow of his jacket and the stinging on his face. He felt like his whole world was breaking apart. The only thing he could think of was getting to his father.