Chapter Seventeen
Bruno simply ditched his bike outside the hospital and rushed through the doors to the emergency room, looking around frantically for any sign of his father even though he knew he probably wasn't still in the waiting room. He didn't even know how bad it was. Maybe it had just been a fishing accident and he had overreacted. It wouldn't be the first time his father had had to get stitches. Or maybe he really had been overworking himself and collapsed? Bruno couldn't imagine that happening to his father no matter how hard he had been working, but he was willing to entertain any idea other than the worst fears running through his head.
"Bruno!"
He looked up to see Fugo hurrying toward him and his heart sank into his stomach as he saw the look on the other boy's face.
"Panna, what happened?" he breathed, grabbing Fugo by the shoulders, meeting his damp, red-rimmed eyes.
Before Fugo could answer though, a man came up to them.
"You're Paolo Bucciarati's son?" the man asked.
"Yes," Bruno said, noticing one of the fishermen who was friends with his father hovering behind him. "Are you…a doctor?" he asked skeptically, noticing the suit.
The man produced a badge. "I'm a detective."
"Why are you here then? What happened to my father?!" Bruno demanded.
"Marco and I found him out on his boat this morning, Bruno," the fisherman stepped in to supply. "He was just drifting so we went to see what was wrong and then found out he'd been shot."
"Shot?" Bruno exclaimed, eyes widening.
The detective nodded. "Your father appears to have been caught in some sort of drug deal."
"He would never—" Bruno started but the detective held up his hand.
"We have no reason to believe your father was part of it, as far as we can tell, the men just used his services to sail them out to an island to make some kind of exchange today. I assume he saw too much and that's why they decided to shoot him."
Bruno's stomach roiled as he tried to process this. "He's alive though, right? Where is he?"
"He's still in surgery," Fugo told him quietly. "He took three bullets and lost a lot of blood."
Bruno's arms wrapped around himself as he tried to force himself to breathe. He couldn't believe any of this was happening.
"How long until we know?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know," Fugo replied, squeezing his shoulder.
"We're rooting for him too, kid," the detective said gently. "We think this was a gang we've been tracking the last few weeks and so far, your father's the only witness who might actually be able to give a positive ID."
Bruno could care less about that. He just wanted his father to be okay.
The detective squeezed Bruno's shoulder briefly. "I wish you and your father the best. I firmly believe I'll be getting his witness statement soon."
Bruno nodded numbly as the man left after talking to the hospital staff briefly.
The fisherman sighed tiredly and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm real sorry, Bruno, really. I can't believe this happened. I thought fishing was the dangerous job not carting around tourists."
Bruno shook his head, still in shock. "I'm just glad you found him. Thank you."
The man nodded. "I have to get back. Is there anything you need? I could have my wife run it over."
Bruno didn't even know what he needed, only, "I just need to know Papa is okay."
The man gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder before he headed out.
Fugo let out a shuddering breath, arms folded tightly against his chest. "I-I can't believe it. I'm so sorry, Bruno."
Bruno looked around tiredly, wondering where a doctor might be who he could ask about his father.
"Is there anything I can do?" Fugo asked.
Bruno sighed and shook his head. "No. Look, there's no reason for both of us to be here. You should take my bike, go home. The others will be wondering what happened, you should call them when school lets out."
Fugo ducked his head, but nodded. "Okay. But, please, Bruno, if you need anything…"
"I know," Bruno assured him with a short, empty smile. Fugo surprised him with a brief hug before he headed out of the hospital and Bruno was left all alone.
He paced for a while, the lack of information infuriating, until he finally spotted a nurse coming through to the front desk.
"Excuse me," he called. "Paolo Bucciarati, do you know anything about him?"
The woman looked up from the clipboard she was checking before setting it on the other side of the front desk. "The man with the gunshot wounds who was brought in here?"
"Yes, that's my father," Bruno pressed.
"He's still in surgery but I can take you over there so the doctor will be able to find you when he's done."
Bruno gratefully followed the nurse to the surgery ward. The waiting room here was smaller, bathed in the dingy glow of florescent lights. Bruno glanced up to the surgery room doors, seeing the light on to indicate that the surgery was ongoing.
He simply sank down against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest, and wrapping his arms around them as he started to shake. He couldn't do this. How could he do this without his father? He was all he had and that had always been enough. What if he never saw him again?
Bruno's hands clenched and he pressed his face into the top of his knees, feeling some wetness soak into his worn jeans. He didn't want to break right now because he knew that if he did, he wasn't sure he would be able to put himself back together again. So he held on by a rapidly fraying thread and tried to pretend like everything wasn't crashing down around him.
He didn't know how long he sat there, waiting for any news at all, the light still on over the door, before he heard the sound of thick rubber soles hurrying across the slick floor. The black-clad figure stopped upon spotting him, then simply walked the rest of the way over and slid down the wall next to him.
Bruno didn't turn to look at his friend, but he was aware of the reassuring points of warmth where Leone's shoulder and knee pressed against him. He didn't say anything, and nor did Bruno, but having someone there as a silent support meant more to him in the moment than he could voice.
They sat like that for what felt like another eternity, before the light above the surgery door finally went off, and Bruno's eyes snapped over there, heart in his throat. Leone shifted closer, as if lending him strength.
When the door finally opened, Bruno shot to his feet. Eyes pinned to the doctor who emerged. The man caught sight of him and headed over.
"You're Bucciarati's son?" he asked, expression not giving anything away.
"Yes," Bruno replied. "H-how is my father?"
"He's stable," the doctor said and Bruno felt like a string of tension that had been running through his body was cut, shoulders sagging so much, Leone reached out to grip one as if to keep him upright.
"Then thank you," Bruno managed shakily.
"However, he's not out of the woods yet," the doctor continued, words gripping Bruno's guts in a vice again. "The bullets caused extensive internal damage, and while we were able to repair it, one was lodged right next to his spine that did extensive damage to the nerves."
"What does that mean?" Bruno demanded.
"It means we're pretty sure your father will never walk again."
The words washed over Bruno surreally, not really registering. All he was aware of was Leone's hand tightening almost painfully around his shoulder. "But he'll live?" Bruno managed.
The doctor nodded firmly. "He'll live."
"Then thank you," Bruno told him again. "May I see my father now?"
"He's still in recovery, and he'll be kept in intensive care for a while to monitor him, but in about an hour or so I'll let you in to see him. He won't be awake though."
Bruno nodded numbly and the doctor left.
Leone let out a slow exhale. "I can call the others with the news if you want."
Bruno nodded. "Please. Panna first."
Leone nodded. "He and Giorno are at Mista's. They all wanted to come but I didn't know how many people would be allowed in and…you know. We got Fugo's call the minute the bell rang." He shook his head. "God, I didn't expect anything like this, but when you didn't come back to class after being called away…"
"I didn't either," Bruno whispered, stomach turning at the muscle memory of hearing the bad news.
Leone ran a hand over his face. "I'm gonna go make the call. Can I get you anything?"
Bruno shook his head, arms wrapping around himself again as he sank down into one of the uncomfortable chairs.
Leone left the small waiting area and Bruno slumped over his knees again, shaking, one knee bouncing as he waited.
Leone came back after about half an hour and took the seat next to him. "I talked to everyone—except Trish. I couldn't get a hold of her but I left her a message to call me. She heard the initial news though."
Bruno nodded, rubbing at the sore elbow he had mostly ignored until that point.
"What happened to your face?" Leone asked.
Bruno put his fingers against his cheek, feeling the raw skin that had started to scab over. "Fell off my bike."
Leone pressed his lips into a thin line of black and looked down at his knees again.
Movement to the side caught Bruno's attention and he looked up to see the doctor returning and got to his feet.
"Can I see him now?"
The doctor nodded. "For a couple minutes."
"Do you want me to go with you?" Leone asked.
Bruno shook his head. "No, it's fine."
He followed the doctor back to the ICU where he pulled aside a curtain to show Bruno a bed that had his father lying in it.
His father who was all healthy tanned skin and worn hands and working muscles, who now looked half the size lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines currently keeping him breathing, providing him blood and liquids, monitoring his heartbeat. His skin was sallow and waxy and Bruno could see the bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.
"Papa," he whispered, reaching out to take hold of one of the large, calloused hands, squeezing. It was warm at least. For that he was grateful.
The doctor stood by silently for a few minutes until he said. "Once we move him into a room you'll be able to sit with him." It was obviously a dismissal to leave and Bruno fought the urge to snap.
"When will that be?" he managed, squeezing his father's hand, willing him to open his eyes, anything.
"Within the next couple days, hopefully. As long as there're no complications."
Complications. And they wouldn't let Bruno stay to monitor anything. What if his father died and he wasn't there?
"We'll call you with any news," the doctor finalized, pulling the curtain back.
Bruno's chest was tight, helplessness spreading through him like a disease. He bent to kiss his father's forehead then reluctantly released his hand and made his way back out to the waiting room, throat closing by the second, vision blurring.
By the time he got back out to the small waiting room, he was shaking, trying to breathe steadily.
"Bruno?" Leone's concerned voice filtered in. "Are you okay?"
Bruno could only choke out a sob, all the pent-up emotions finally releasing. He sagged and Leone stepped forward and pulled him into a crushing embrace as if he were attempting to hold Bruno together.
Bruno's body convulsed with the mostly silent sobs. He'd never cried like this in his life. Not as a child, not when his mom left. It was so raw it hurt.
The nurse at the station silently handed over a box of Kleenex and Leone released him with one arm, grabbing a few and stuffing them into Bruno's hands.
Bruno finally got himself under control enough to wipe his face and blow his nose, taking a deep breath. Leone finally pulled away but continued gripping his shoulder.
"My mom wanted you to come stay with us for the night," he said. "Unless you'd rather go home, but Panna and Giorno are already over at Mista's. I'd stay with you if you wanted though."
Bruno shook his head. "No, I'll go over to your place. I just need to grab some stuff first."
Leone nodded and slung his arm around Bruno's shoulders to lead him out. Bruno's legs were still unsteady and he leaned against his friend, clutching the ball of Kleenex in his hand.
"I gave the nurse our home phone number to call."
"Thank you," Bruno whispered.
They headed out to the parking lot and Bruno blinked in the sun, wondering how it could shine on a day that felt so dark.
Trish picked at the pink polish on her fingernails as she sat beside her mom's bed. Her aunt was off talking to doctors, and her mom was still sleeping. Trish's stomach was a ball of anxiety.
She couldn't believe that Bruno's dad was in the hospital too. She wanted to go call one of the others to see what had happened. She figured they would know by now. Was he here in this hospital? Was Bruno here? Part of her wanted to go find him, but she also wanted to be there when her mom woke up. At least say hi to her before she had to leave.
Trish curled over her knees, burying her face in her hands. Everything was just…too much. The doctors had done more tests that were just inconclusive. They still couldn't tell why her mother seemed to be deteriorating. She wanted nothing more than to just sit down and cry, but she knew if she started she would never be able to stop and she still had to be strong. For her mom, and her aunt, and now Bruno too.
She hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Giorno after school either. Of course they'd both forgotten with the news. Now, she hoped he would forget for good. They didn't need her burdens now too. Especially when she didn't even know if Bruno's dad was worse off than her mom…
She dug her fingers into her hair before she heard the slight shifting of sheets.
"Trish?"
She snapped her head up, seeing her mother's eyes blinking open.
"Mama?" Trish called, hurriedly reaching out and taking her hand gently in hers.
"What's wrong, honey?" her mom asked, tired eyes concerned.
Trish felt her throat start to close but she forced a smile. "Nothing, Mama. I'm just still waiting for them to find out what's wrong with you, that's all."
A look passed over her mother's face that Trish couldn't quite read. She didn't reply, but she turned to stare out the window. "I think when I get out of here I'd like to go to the beach," she said instead.
Trish pressed her lips together, swallowing down her emotions. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Mama," she managed.
Her mother smiled and then her eyes slid shut again, breaths evening out in sleep and Trish was once again left alone with all her thoughts and no one to share them with.
They stopped by Bruno's house first so he could pick up some clothes and things for a few days and then headed toward the Abbacchios'.
Leone's mother engulphed him in a warm hug the second he came in the door.
"Bruno, honey, I'm so sorry," she told him before pulling back almost reluctantly. "Anything you need, just let me know. Can I make you some tea?"
"I'll go put your stuff in my room," Leone told him, taking the bag out of his hands as his mother ushered Bruno into the kitchen.
"I know Giorno and Pannacotta are over at the Mistas' tonight, but if they want to come over here tomorrow, that's perfectly fine. We have air mattresses or there's the futon in the study so they'd have a place to sleep for a couple nights," Signora Abbacchio said as she busied herself heating water.
"Thank you," Bruno murmured, feeling, for the first time, so out of place, not in this house, but in his body. Like he was watching some nightmare unfold from someone else's perspective.
Leone returned as a warm cup of tea was pressed into Bruno's hands and he clutched it, staring into the liquid as he tried to make sense of what his life was anymore.
"I know you probably won't be hungry, but if there's anything particular you want for dinner, just ask," Leone's mother told him.
"Whatever you were planning is fine," Bruno told her, feeling exhausted.
Leone seemed to notice and nudged him. "Why don't we go up to my room? You can lay down if you want."
Bruno followed silently, and slumped into one of Leone's beanbag chairs, still holding the tea. Leone turned on some music, something classical but calming. He slumped in the other beanbag and grabbed his backpack.
"I'm gonna do my homework, but if you need to talk, I'll listen. And you can cheat off me if you want."
Bruno attempted a small smile but didn't think it really hit. "It's probably the only time I'll get a pass, so I'm going to take it. Thanks though."
Leone nodded and turned to his books as Bruno leaned back, closing his eyes, but only seeing his father, unconscious and hooked up to machines.
"Hey, um," Leone broke through his unpleasant thoughts. "Do we need to call your mother? If you don't want to, it's fine, I can ask my mom to do it."
Bruno hadn't even thought of calling his mother. He considered it briefly, but shook his head. "Honestly, I don't even know how to get in contact with her anymore. There's no point in making her feel like she needs to come here. I'm fine on my own." It had been three years since he had even gotten a birthday or Christmas card from her, so he had pretty much figured she had cut ties completely.
Leone nodded with a sympathetic look. "You're not on your own, you know," he said as if as an afterthought. "You have all of us."
Bruno felt his eyes prick again and carefully set his half-drunken mug of tea aside. "I know."
He forced himself to eat something for dinner, though he honestly couldn't remember what it was. He called the hospital and found his father was still doing fine. By then he was just exhausted and phasing in and out of reality.
"You should try to get some rest," Leone's mother told him with motherly concern in her eyes. "And don't worry about getting up in the morning, I'll call into the school for you." She glanced toward her husband who nodded. "And Leone, you can stay out as well, so you can drive Bruno to the hospital."
Leone nodded and he and Bruno retreated upstairs.
Bruno took a hot shower which physically made him feel a little better at least. He returned to Leone's room to find his friend sitting at his desk in his pajamas, finishing up his homework. Bruno didn't say another word, simply climbing onto the bed and curling up in the extra blanket Leone had pulled out for him.
He lay there for a long time, staring at the wall, before he finally said, "What happens if Papa can't walk?"
He heard Leone put his pen down. "It's too early to worry about that."
Bruno shook his head, glancing over his shoulder. "I have to. If he can't walk, he won't be able to fish, and he'll need constant help for a while. If he's in a wheelchair, we have to put ramps in at the house and make sure he can actually get around." His eyes welled and he blinked the wetness away, a drop sliding into his hair. "I don't know what to do, Leone. What if I can't take care of him? I don't even know if we'll be able to cover the hospital bills, especially since we won't be making money, I can't just go out fishing every day."
"You'll figure it out," Leone told him gently. "And seriously, Bruno, my parents promised to help with whatever you need."
Bruno took a shuddering breath. "This was supposed to be a good year, but it just seems to keep getting worse."
"There's no point in worrying about it tonight," Leone reminded him and Bruno tried to ease his mind, but it was so muddled with everything he just didn't know what to do.
Leone silently finished the rest of his homework and then turned the light off. Bruno felt the bed dip before Leone's warm back settled against his, a comfortable weight.
"Maybe tomorrow your dad will be awake," Leone said hopefully. "I'll take you to the hospital first thing in the morning."
Bruno nodded into his pillow, pulling the blanket tighter around him before he closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.
He somehow slept and thankfully seemed too exhausted to even dream. Leone drove them to the hospital after a quick breakfast and Bruno hurried through to the ICU.
"I'm here to see my father," Bruno told the nurse at the station. "Paolo Bucciarati."
She nodded. "I'll take you back there. Just you though."
Bruno glanced at Leone, but the other boy shrugged.
"It's okay, I'm gonna go call the others. Let me know if you need anything."
Bruno nodded and eagerly followed the nurse back to the curtained off section where his father was.
He didn't look a lot better today, but there was at least some more color in his face. Bruno was handed a folding chair and he sat down, pulling it close to the bedside.
"Hi, Papa," Bruno said softly, reaching out to clasp his father's hand, wishing he would open his eyes. He watched the monitors, not knowing what they all meant aside from the fact that the soft beep indicated his father's heart was still beating.
He just wished he would wake up.
At some point, the doctor on duty came to check on his father, and Bruno briefly stepped aside to allow him room.
"How is he doing?" Bruno asked.
"Good," the doctor assured him. "I think he should be waking up soon, though he's going to be a little groggy from the pain medicine. His vitals are good; so as long as he keeps on the same track I think we should be able to move him to his own room this afternoon."
Bruno was glad to hear it. He nodded gratefully and returned to his seat when the doctor left.
He didn't really know how long he was sitting there before Leone came back, poking his head in.
"Hey, come get something to eat," he said.
Bruno looked around. "Is it lunch time already?"
Leone nodded and Bruno stood reluctantly and followed him back out to the waiting room.
He was shocked to see Fugo and Mista, the latter standing there with a cooler in his hands.
"Hey, man," he said and hurried forward, throwing his free arm around Bruno and squeezing him tight.
"What are you doing here?" Bruno asked.
"Thought I'd run over here during lunch break. My mom packed this stuff for you. Didn't trust you to eat apparently."
They all sat down around the small table in the waiting room as Mista laid out a picnic.
"How is he?" Fugo asked, looking like he'd gotten less sleep than Bruno had.
"The doctor said he's doing well. That he should be able to be moved to a room soon." Bruno glanced back toward hallway, not wanting to be away too long in case his father woke up and he missed it.
He forced himself to eat one of the sandwiches and glanced toward Fugo.
"How are you and Giorno doing?"
Fugo shrugged. "Fine. What about you?"
Bruno pressed his lips into a thin line. "I'll be better when Papa wakes up."
Fugo nodded and Bruno finished his food as quickly as possible. Mista and Fugo headed out and Bruno headed back to sit with his father.
The minutes and hours stretched on before Bruno felt a brief twitch of his father's hand in his. He jumped, and glanced at the man's face, seeing the weathered lines crinkle as his eyes squinted and fluttered slightly.
"Papa?" Bruno asked, clutching his hand again, elated when he felt his father's fingers twitch again.
He held his breath as he watched the fluttering eyelids that finally opened, revealing the blue-grey eyes that might not be as bright as usual, but were open, alive, and Bruno felt relief surge through him.
"It's okay, Papa," he said. "Everything's gonna be okay."
"Bruno?" his father whispered, voice barely audible, but Bruno latched onto it and held his hand even tighter.
"I'm here, Papa."
One side of his lips turned up slightly, but that seemed to be all his father had the energy for because after that, his eyes slid shut again and he fell back to sleep.
It might not be much, but it was enough, and Bruno sent a prayer of thanks to anyone who might be listening, clutching his father's hand tightly in his own.
As promised, Bruno's father was moved to his own room later that afternoon and Bruno now had a more comfortable chair to sit in. Leone brought him coffee and sat by reading to keep him company.
Bruno's father had briefly woken again, but still seemed to be pretty out of it. He had at least recognized Bruno though.
There was a knock on the door and Bruno and Leone both glanced up to see the detective from yesterday poke his head in.
"Sorry if this is a bad time, but I thought I would check in."
Bruno nodded and the man came in, hands in his pockets.
"How's your dad?"
"The doctors say he'll recover—for the most part," Bruno said, not wanting to go into detail with a stranger. "He still hasn't woken up enough to be lucid though."
The man nodded, somehow looking both sympathetic and impatient at the same time.
"You still haven't caught the men who did this?" Bruno asked.
"No," the detective said. "Your father is currently the only witness we have that might lead us to them. We think they might be connected with several other recent crimes."
"I'm sure he'll be more than willing to help when he's awake," Bruno said, hoping the dismissiveness came across.
The detective nodded and pulled out a card to hand to Bruno. "Call me when he does? It's important to get the information as soon as possible. Before this happens to someone else."
Bruno took the card, annoyance rising briefly in his throat before he tamped it down. He knew the man was just doing his job, but this shouldn't have happened to his father to begin with.
"I will," he said, and thankfully the man left after that.
Bruno sighed and slumped back in his chair.
"I just don't get it," Bruno muttered. "What did those men even want with my father?"
Leone shrugged helplessly. "I guess they needed to get out to one of those islands off the coast. I've heard a lot of drug dealers use them to traffic goods."
"This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't decided he needed to ferry around tourists for extra money," Bruno suddenly spat. "I never needed that money anyway!"
Leone set his book aside. "Bruno, you know your dad just wanted you to have options. Besides, it ended up helping him to be able to take in Fugo and Giorno and give them what they needed."
Bruno of course knew that, but everything was just so overwhelming right now.
They sat in silence for a long time before there was another knock at the door. Bruno hoped it wasn't the detective again, but when it opened, he saw Mista poke his head in.
"Hey, is it okay if some visitors come in?" he asked with a small smile.
Bruno nodded and Mista opened the door further to reveal literally everyone else.
"Bruno!" Trish cried, pushing past Mista to instantly head toward him, squeezing him firmly as Bruno stood up to meet her. "I'm so sorry! Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Thank you, but, I'm mostly just waiting for him to wake up more," Bruno told her.
"Well, we brought some get-well things," Narancia said as he pulled several balloons into the room with him, tying them down.
"Thank you," Bruno couldn't help but smile, especially since he knew how hard it was for Narancia to be in a hospital.
Giorno came forward with a potted plant. "I brought this too." He set it on the bedside table carefully, and Bruno turned to him, noticing his hesitation.
"Giorno? Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
Giorno gave him a slightly wan smile. "I'm fine. I just…" He shrugged helplessly.
"I know," Bruno told him and reached out to grip Giorno's arm, rubbing it to try and offer some comfort.
"They're probably not going to let all of us stay here long," Fugo told him.
"Are you and Giorno going back to Mista's house tonight?" Bruno asked.
Fugo nodded. "For now. I'm probably going back to the house tomorrow though to see to things."
Bruno sagged, suddenly tired. "I'm sorry, I should go help out as well—"
"No, you should stay with you father," Fugo insisted. "We'll be fine."
Bruno nodded numbly, unable to even express how grateful he was at the moment.
"We should probably head out now," Trish said, giving Bruno one more hug. "Please let us know if you need anything."
They headed out and Leone looked at his watch. "Mom will probably have dinner ready in about an hour. Do you want to drive back home with me?"
Bruno glanced back at his father. "I think I'm going to stay here, but you don't have to."
Leone furrowed his brow. "You really should eat."
Bruno returned to his seat, eyes fixed on his father. "I'll get something later."
"From where, the vending machine?" Leone asked then sighed. "If you want to stay, I'll come back later with some dinner and your bag and stuff. But you can't stay here the whole time, Bruno."
"Just for a couple days. Until he wakes up enough to know what happened," Bruno said.
Leone stared at him for a long second, but nodded. He stood up and reached out to squeeze Bruno's shoulder. "I'll be back later then. Let me know if you want me to bring anything in particular."
Bruno nodded gratefully and turned back to his father.
As Trish followed the others out of the hospital, she glanced toward Giorno who had been mostly silent. He hadn't said much earlier either, just clutched the plant on the drive there. Now without it, he had simply shoved his hands in his pockets.
Trish wondered if he was worried that his stepfather would try something with Signore Bucciarati in the hospital, but she didn't think there was any real worry behind that. Still…
"Giorno?" she asked quietly as Mista was discussing something with Fugo and Narancia.
He looked up, blinking slightly as if he had been taken out of some deep thoughts.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Are you okay?"
Giorno offered a small smile. "I'm fine. Just tired, you know? I feel better after seeing him though."
Trish nodded. She smiled back and was about to follow the others back to Mista's car when Giorno called her back.
"Trish?"
She turned with inquiry.
"I—forgot yesterday with everything, but you wanted to tell me something?"
Trish's heart skipped a beat. She had hoped Giorno had forgotten about that with everything else but of course he hadn't. Giorno was way too perceptive for that.
It just didn't seem like the right time to tell him. And on top of that, her mom had been sent back home that morning since the doctors had been unable to find anything wrong. She hadn't exactly been getting worse, but she hadn't been getting better either. Still…
"Oh, that?" Trish forced a little laugh. "It wasn't important. Don't worry about it."
Giorno looked like he didn't believe her, but he didn't press. "Okay, well, you know if you do want to talk…"
"Same," Trish assured him.
They hurried to catch up to the others and Trish once again felt the uncomfortable roiling in her stomach from lying to her friends.
Leone brought Bruno's things to him and sat with him for a while until visiting hours were over and he was forced to leave. Bruno was now alone in the dimly lit room, wishing he was home, that his father was home in his own bed.
He turned the television on low and tried to concentrate on it, but it was hard, and eventually, Bruno simply rested his head on his folded arms against the side of the bed, and slipped off.
He was woken sometime later by the feeling of something tugging on his hair.
"Bruno?"
Bruno raised his head, eyes snapping to his father's face, seeing the man's eyes open and finally looking more lucid.
"Papa," he breathed.
The man's fingers combed clumsily through his hair before Bruno took his hand and pressed it against his cheek. A calloused thumb traced across the scrape on his cheekbone from the bike accident and Bruno melted in relief, several tears slipping out of his eyes.
"It's okay, Bruno," his father told him gently.
And Bruno buried his head against his father's shoulder and cried silently in relief until he fell asleep, his father's hand, warm, on top of his head.