Wrote this story for the rwcw discord gift exchange. :) Still a couple Christmas stories to go before the year is over!
Christmas Past, Christmas Present
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
Abbacchio hasn't exactly been a fan of Christmas for years, especially when his past comes back to haunt him in the worst way. Luckily, he has a family who will pick up the pieces.
Abbacchio sighed as he slammed the car door shut behind him, sneering toward the store that was flooded with people making last minute purchases before everything closed for the holiday. This was literally the last place he wanted to be on Christmas Eve, but of course someone had to make a last-minute run for the things that Narancia and Mista had forgotten on their trip to the store earlier this week. Despite the fact that Bucciarati had made a very detailed list.
It's not that Abbacchio had anywhere else to be. They'd already had the 'company Christmas party' where Giorno had gotten to show off how gracious a Don he was by giving away huge bonuses to the Capos like they were some sort of corporate entity. Now it was just down to the "family Christmas" Bruno had insisted on for some reason. Abbacchio would rather just use the holiday as an excuse to sleep in and actually try to relax for once, maybe catch up on the stack of books he'd accumulated.
But he knew Bruno wouldn't let him get out of it that easy. The thought of all of it just made Abbacchio tired.
It wasn't that he hated Christmas. He wasn't a Scrooge or anything. It's just that every holiday always brought up memories of his family and he'd rather not think about those. He'd had such a normal upbringing compared to most of the others in Bucciarati's team. Christmas had always been an exciting time of year for him as a kid; he and his siblings would always eagerly await what 'Santa' had brought for them. He remembered distinctly the expensive watch his father had given him the year he'd graduated high school. Of course, that had all changed after he got kicked out of the police force for taking dirty money and getting his partner killed. His family hadn't wanted anything to do with him after that, pretty much disowning him. He hadn't seen them since. Didn't even know if they were still in town.
Abbacchio shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat as he made his way into the store along with the rest of the last-minute shoppers, grabbing one of the few carts that remained. Christmas through New Year's was always just a depressive hell for him where it was harder than ever not to fall back into his old habits.
That being said, he grabbed three extra bottles of wine, because it was, after all, a holiday. It's not like he would be drinking them alone.
But, of course, because everyone had been clearing out the stock of typical Christmas goods, Abbacchio was unable to find all the ingredients needed to make a panettone, which they had to make every year because Narancia's mother had and it made him feel more at home.
Abbacchio cursed under his breath. Narancia's disappointment would just be the cherry on the top of this whole annoying holiday season.
He checked the lines and then his watch, and wondered if there was a bakery in the whole city that would even have any left at this point.
He grabbed the last few items and decided to call Bruno while he was waiting in line.
"Oh, Leone, I'm glad you called, I just realized I forgot to put eggs on the list…"
"Already grabbed some," Abbacchio grunted. "Look, I can't find all the baking ingredients we need, so do you know of a bakery that might still have panettone?"
Bruno paused on the other end. "I'll call around, but…it will probably be a miracle. If anyone has some it would be Rosiello's."
"Alright, I'll head over there after this then." Abbacchio sighed and ended the call.
When he finally got out of the store and threw the groceries in the trunk of the car, he headed further into town, toward the bakery.
The streets were packed, making driving nearly impossible, so he eventually just parked, choosing to walk to the bakery, practically forcing his way through the crowds. Next year he absolutely refused to do last minute shopping. He would rather handle a dangerous mission than this.
He groaned as he saw a line almost out the door of the bakery. He could, of course, push his way inside—he had the privilege as a mofioso, but he wasn't feeling like that much of an asshole tonight.
It didn't take long for more people to pile up behind him, and for someone to trip into Abbacchio's back.
He shifted out of the way and turned with an annoyed expression.
"I'm sorry—oh! Leo?"
Abbacchio's breath caught in his throat at the familiar face standing there behind him. Silver blond hair and golden eyes. It had been a few years and she had grown up, but he would recognize his sister anywhere.
"Silvia?" Abbacchio asked, incredulous.
Before she could say anything, a man walked up to join her. "Finally found a place to park; it's insane out there." He glanced up, instantly suspicious as he saw Abbacchio still staring at the younger woman, not knowing what else to do. "Is this guy bothering you, Silvie?"
She shook herself, seeming just as shocked as Abbacchio. "Um, no, Franco, this is…my brother."
Abbacchio didn't miss the hesitation in her voice when she addressed him as such.
The man's eyes widened slightly, and then narrowed too knowingly. "Wait, you mean the one who used to be a dirty cop? The one who got Martino's cousin killed?"
Abbacchio's stomach twisted and he was about to walk away and forget all of this, but the man blocked his way before he could move. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here, especially at Christmas."
"Franco, enough, he's just waiting in line like the rest of us," Silvia said, folding her arms across her chest uncomfortably as she continued to stare at Abbacchio. "I…didn't even realize you were still in the city, Leone."
Abbacchio cleared his throat, finally speaking. "Yeah. I…got work here."
"Yeah, in the mafia, from what I've heard," Silvia's companion snapped. "Guess you decided if you couldn't cut it as a cop you'd just play for the other team, huh?"
Abbacchio refused to let the man get a rise out of him and simply scoffed, turning back around.
"Hey, I wasn't—"
"Signore Abbacchio!"
One of the baker's assistants ran up with a wrapped package in his arms which he handed over to the goth. "Signore Bucciarati called ahead and told us to save this for you. Boss said it's on the house. Buon Natale!"
Grateful for the chance to make his escape, Abbacchio nodded. "Thanks, kid," he murmured before he pushed out of the line.
"Hey! You think you can just walk away like that? Getting special treatment?" Franco demanded.
Abbacchio speared him. "Maybe you should have joined Passione too," he said, then glanced briefly back at his sister, a dull ache in his chest. He swallowed hard. "Bye, Silvie."
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself and looked away as Franco put his arm around her, still glowering at Abbacchio.
Leone turned, feeling sick. He never should have volunteered to go into town.
He was trying to get back to his car when his phone rang again. He wrestled it out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear. "What?" he grunted.
"Sorry to call again, Leone," Bruno's voice came over the phone as the sounds of chaos and yelling could be heard in the background. "But there's been a slight problem in the kitchen and long story short, we're going to need some more lamb chops."
Abbacchio sighed heavily. "Are you kidding me?"
"You don't have to go all the way back to the store, I have Signore Necci holding some at the butcher shop."
Abbacchio pressed his lips together. "Fine. I'll go pick them up, but after that, everyone is just going to have to make do."
"Thank you, Leone."
"Yeah, whatever," Abbacchio grunted as he ended the call and glowered down the busy street. The butcher shop was only a couple blocks away, but he was going upstream in the press so it seemed to take an eternity. Add to that the sounds of bells and carolers that had planted themselves on street corners—it just made Abbacchio tense and even more annoyed.
The butcher shop was at least not nearly as crowded as the bakery, and once Abbacchio had grabbed the contingency lamb chops, he slipped out of the shop and decided to take a roundabout way back to his car to avoid the crowds again. It would be quicker this way.
He ducked down a side street and made his way through the back alleys. It might have stunk of trash, but it was a lot more open and Abbacchio could walk freely.
When he was finally in the area he had left his car, he emerged back out onto the streets again, only to, per his typical bad luck, run into Silvia and her companion once again.
He pretended to ignore them and kept walking, but Franco's annoying voice filtered toward him.
"Hey! Don't think you get to just walk away like that!"
Abbacchio turned around with a sigh, seeing three other young men had also joined the group. "What is it exactly that you want from me?" he asked, annoyed.
"We just want to talk," said another of the men. "About what you did to my cousin."
"What the hell did I ever do to your cousin?" Abbacchio demanded.
"See? He doesn't even know!" Franco said in disgust. "He doesn't even realize what he did wrong!"
"Guess we're gonna have to teach him then," the third boy said, reaching into his pocket.
Abbacchio instantly went into defensive mode, Moody Blues rippling under his skin.
"Franco, don't," Silvia said, grabbing his arm.
"Calm down, Silvie, we just want to talk to your brother for a couple seconds," Franco told her and shook her off as he and the other two boys moved toward Abbacchio.
"You might want to quit while you're ahead," Abbacchio growled. "Normally I'd just kick your asses and be done with it, but it's Christmas, so I'll be nice."
The young men sneered. "You think just because you're a big tough mafioso you scare us?"
Abbacchio scoffed and tried to push past them, but Franco and another one caught him around the arms and shoved him back into the alley. Abbacchio, having his arms full, couldn't quite defend himself in time for the punch that slammed into his stomach.
Abbacchio doubled over and the three young men shoved him further into the alley, out of sight of the street. Another blow caught Abbacchio in the face—hard. Through blurry vision and a numb cheek, he could see the shape of brass knuckles on one of the kid's hands.
"Franco! Stop!" Silvia cried, jumping forward, only to have Franco shove her back.
"Go back to the car, Silvia," he said.
"I'm not—"
"We'll be right there, just want to talk to your brother."
"Franco—"
"Go!"
Abbacchio finally dropped the parcels he carried and got his hands up as Franco's companions lunged at him, trying to take him down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Silvia running away, looking upset.
He got in several blows before he took a punch to the ribs from the brass knuckles and staggered. That was the only opening the others needed to slam him back against the wall.
"I'm sure you all have something better to do tonight," Abbacchio gritted out. "Why don't you leave before you do something you'll regret."
"Yeah, I don't think we're going to be regretting anything," the boy with the brass knuckles said. "I've been hoping to stumble across you for a while. Get the chance to pay you back for what you did."
Abbacchio brought a fist up, but the two other boys caught him and one's hand snagged his hair, slamming his head back against the wall, dazing him.
"You think you're a high and mighty gangster now, huh?" Franco said. "Getting special treatment in the shops—but you know who's not coming home for Christmas this year or ever? Martino's cousin. He was just unlucky enough to be partnered with scum like you."
Another punishing blow was delivered to Abbacchio's ribs with the brass knuckles. "My cousin's never coming home again because you got him killed, you bastard!" Martino snarled.
Finally realizing what this was about, Abbacchio spat out a gob of blood and met the kid's eyes. "No one regrets his death more than I do," he said sincerely.
The kid sneered at him. "Yeah, right."
Abbacchio snarled in defiance. "You think I care if you beat me into the ground? I don't. But I also think it's my duty to warn you not to do something you're going to regret. Trust me. I would know."
Franco had reached into his pocket and pulled out a blade, which he switched open. "Like I said…I don't think we're gonna regret anything, Leone. Taking scum off the streets is just a courtesy to the rest of the city."
Abbacchio wrenched out of their grip and grabbed Franco's wrist to wrest the knife from him.
"Get him!" Franco cried to his companions, struggling as he tried to regain control on the knife.
Hands grabbed Abbacchio, trying to haul him back again, digging bruises into his flesh. Martino's cousin wrapped an arm around Abbacchio's throat, hauling back, choking him, slamming the brass knuckles into his lower back in punishing blows.
Abbacchio released his hold on Franco with one hand to try to scrape the other kid off, backing up against the wall to smash him into it. But with the tangle they were in, the kid tripped and took the rest of them with him. Abbacchio lost his grip on Franco who staggered forward, his knife slamming into Abbacchio like a hot brand.
They all slammed into the wall and the one kid's arm slipped from Abbacchio's neck finally, leaving him to stagger, reaching blindly for the knife in his gut.
Franco yanked it free as he staggered back, looking just as surprised.
"Franco! You actually stabbed him?"
"I didn't mean to…" the kid said, actually looking scared, backing up. "Let's just get out of here."
Of course they didn't act tough now that they were facing possible consequences for their actions. Abbacchio growled at them, doubling over as he tried to keep his hand pressed over the rapidly bleeding wound, feeling sick and dizzy.
"Stupid little bastards," Abbacchio growled at them.
The kid with the brass knuckles sneered. "Shut up!"
He slammed his fist into the side of Abbacchio's head and the gangster collapsed against the wall, vision blacking out. He listened to the pounding of footsteps as they hurried away, then tried to push himself up again.
Pain instantly slammed into him and Abbacchio slumped back against the wall with a grunt, sliding back down onto the cold road.
He could feel the blood from his injury soaking his clothing, slick across his skin as he pressed his hand harder against the wound to compensate for his growing weakness, blinking back unconsciousness.
It wasn't that he had never imagined he would die bleeding out in an alleyway somewhere, but of course, by his luck, it would be on Christmas.
Bucciarati sighed at the growing cacophony behind him as things continued to collapse in the kitchen as Fugo started chewing out Mista for some reason. From the sound of it, probably because Sex Pistols were sneaking parts of the food that were already prepared, sitting and quickly cooling as they waited for the rest of the ingredients to arrive.
Bucciarati couldn't do anything about it currently however, because he was standing on a stool with his arms over his head holding onto the garland Trish and Giorno were stringing around above the doorways. They hadn't gotten much of a chance to do Christmas decorating that week aside from Narancia and Mista picking up a tree and all of them having a little impromptu cocoa party while decorating it. Bucciarati would have liked their family Christmas to be a relaxing affair but it certainly wasn't starting off that way.
"Almost got it," Trish said from her stool a little bit away, tacking up the garland as Giorno did the same on his end and then, with a flourish, turned the fake plastic imitation greenery into beautifully scented balsam, holly poking through.
"It looks beautiful!" Trish exclaimed as she jumped off the stool and stood back with the others to admire it.
Giorno smiled and handed them small sprigs of holly to accessorize their outfits. "It is very festive, and it smells nice. Since Gold infused it with life energy it shouldn't even lose its needles until we're done with it."
"Wonderful," Bucciarati said, smiling at the young Don. It had taken Giorno a little bit to get used to celebrating Christmas as a family since, apparently, he had never really done so, but the others had been quick to show him the ropes.
Narancia came barreling out of the kitchen as the argument between Fugo and Mista escalated even further, to the sound of breaking glass. Bucciarati's eye twitched.
"Bucciarati, can you please get in there before they break everything?" the teen pleaded.
Bucciarati sighed and hurried back into the kitchen where Fugo already had a serving fork in his hand, pointing it threateningly at Mista who was standing there with his hands held up.
"And who was it who told you they had to come out of the oven?!"
"For the last time, it wouldn't have mattered, it was set to the wrong temperature anyway!" Mista retorted.
"Enough!" Bucciarati snapped as they both turned to him. "What is going on?"
"Mista can't read a simple recipe!"
"Someone dropped food on it last time they used it so it's nearly illegible!" Mista retorted. "I tried to go by memory, but…"
"I already asked Abbacchio if he can get more lambchops," Bucciarati told them, trying to defuse the situation. "He's bringing panettone too since he couldn't find the ingredients in the shop," he added turning to Narancia who was peeking into the kitchen.
"Where is Abba anyway?" Narancia asked. "He's been gone for a long time."
"He should have been home by now," Fugo agreed.
Bucciarati checked his watch and realized that Leone had been gone for over two hours now. He frowned. He was sure the lines were long, but he had already been done at the bakery when he had called about the lamb and that was forty minutes ago now. Hopefully something hadn't come up, but he was sure the other man would have gotten in touch if there had been a mishap.
Bucciarati sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'll give him a call and see when he might be back."
He exited the kitchen so he could actually hear the call and slipped his phone from his pocket, dialing Abbacchio's number.
As it continued to ring, Bucciarati frowned, worried. Leone was usually incredibly efficient with errands—mostly why he had insisted on going alone without Narancia tagging along like he'd wanted to. But Bucciarati was also not unaware of the growing depression Leone always seemed to experience over the holiday season. He'd hoped that maybe having a quiet Christmas with the 'kids' would loosen the goth up a little about his feelings toward the holidays, and maybe, heaven forbid, he might have a good time, but it didn't seem to have helped much.
He trusted Leone, of course, but he also worried that some day he might run off to wallow in old self-destructive habits.
The phone went to voicemail and Bucciarati exhaled slowly before he spoke, "Leone, sorry if I caught you driving. Just wondering if you were on your way home."
He tucked the phone back in his pocket, glancing toward the window that faced the front driveway, half expecting to see headlights, but there were none. Bucciarati pressed his lips together firmly. If Leone took much longer a lot of the things he bought would risk spoiling.
"Did you call him?" Narancia asked, coming over to flop down on the couch.
"I did, but I didn't get an answer."
"He's probably driving back then," Giorno said.
Bucciarati nodded. "Probably." He nodded to them. "Why don't the three of you take that basket of gifts that's sitting in the office and put them under the tree?"
"Gifts?" Narancia and Trish cried in excitement as they scrambled into the office, Giorno following behind them.
Fugo finally seemed to tire of arguing with Mista and came up behind Bucciarati. "It's not like Abbacchio to be this late," he said, a pinch of worry at the corners of his eyes.
"I know," Bucciarati replied, already reaching for his phone again. Leone would probably accuse him of being a worry wart but it had been long enough to warrant at least a little concern.
He dialed the number again and it rang and rang, once again ending at the voicemail. Fugo's brow furrowed, and Bruno instantly redialed.
This time it rang for a long time but then finally the call seemed to go through, or at least Bruno could hear something on the other end, even if he wasn't sure exactly what he was hearing.
"Leone?" he inquired.
More sounds came through the phone, something that almost sounded like labored breathing. "Abbacchio?!" he demanded, louder.
A sharp inhale then, "Bru…no?"
The voice sounded slurred, or…wrong, in some way. Bucciarati instantly gritted his teeth, not without some annoyance. "Leone, where are you? You better not be drinking…"
"Not…drunk," the voice strained on the other end followed by a muffled groan.
Bucciarati froze and Fugo leaned in close so he could hear as well. "What happened? Leone?"
The others had all gathered in the room again, their faces concerned as they must have marked the worry in Bruno's voice.
Several more deep breaths and then finally, "Got…jumped."
"You're hurt," Bruno put together instantly, heart in his throat. "Where are you?"
There was a barely muffled gasp on the other end of the line and Bruno quickly cut in. "No, don't try to move unless you're in danger. We'll come to you. Do you know where you are?"
"Bakery," Abbacchio slurred. "Not far…"
There was a loud clatter over the line and Bucciarati pictured the phone slipping from Abbacchio's hand as he fell unconscious. "Leone?" he demanded several times, but there was no answer.
"What happened to Abba?" Narancia demanded, wringing his hands.
"Someone jumped him," Bruno gritted out, already rushing to grab his keys.
"On Christmas Eve? Damn!" Mista snarled.
"Did he say who?" Giorno asked.
Bruno shook his head. "He sounded badly injured, we need to go get him. He was able to give a general location of where he might be. "Mista, Giorno, Narancia, you three come with me. Trish and Fugo have some first aid stuff ready in case he has more injuries than Giorno can handle."
They rushed out to the car and Bucciarati sped in the direction Abbacchio was supposed to be. The traffic was still insane, even though most of the shops were closed by now, but he parked as close to the bakery as possible before they piled out.
Narancia already had Aerosmith out, seeing if he could track down Abbacchio that way.
"There's so many people," he said, watching his radar.
"If he's injured, his breathing signature should be different though, correct?" Giorno asked.
Narancia nodded and continued searching.
Bucciarati was glancing down all the side streets they came across when Mista gave a shout.
"Hey, there's his car," he said, pointing. "Maybe he's not that far from here."
"I think I have something," Narancia said, glancing around before pointing ahead. "Over in this direction."
They hurried in the direction Narancia indicated, pushing through the lingering last-minute shoppers until they finally got to a side street that opened into a back alley.
"It's right ahead," Narancia said.
Bucciarati already had his phone out, dialing Leone's number again, and sure enough, there was the sound of his phone ringing.
Bruno raced toward the sound and skidded to a halt as he rounded the corner and saw the silver-haired figure in a dark coat slumped on the ground, a worrying pool of red spreading from under him. The still ringing phone lay just inches from his blood-stained hand as Bucciarati reached down to turn it off, crouching swiftly.
"Leone," he breathed, reaching down and pulling aside the blood-matted hair to reveal the other gangster's battered face.
"Abbacchio!" Narancia cried, starting to rush forward, but Mista caught him, keeping him out of the way as Giorno crouched beside Bruno. They rolled Abbacchio over, looking for the source of all the blood.
It was almost impossible to tell with the dim light and Abbacchio's black-on-black wardrobe but Giorno stuck his hand inside Abbacchio's coat as Bruno propped his head more comfortably against his knee.
Giorno inhaled sharply and drew his hand back, coated red.
"Stab wound, I think," he said grimly. "Lower abdomen."
Bruno pressed his lips together worriedly as they rolled Abbacchio further onto his back and peeled his shirt up to see better, blood slick across his pale skin.
Leone finally flinched, lips parting with a groan as his back arched slightly.
"Geddoff," he slurred, shoving at them as he tried to sit up. "Tol' you to…"
"Leone, it's just us," Bruno told him, grabbing his flailing wrist and propping him up slightly so he could better see them. Narancia moved closer, eyes wide and worried.
Abbacchio let out a sigh and slumped back, propping himself between the wall and Bruno, one of his hands pressing up against the wound in his stomach. "M'sorry," he murmured, eyes sliding shut as he tipped his head back against the bricks.
"What do you have to be sorry about?" Bruno asked.
Leone motioned to the wound vaguely, then choked, a bit of blood slipping over his smeared black lipstick. "Shit."
Bruno looked down to see the stab wound still bleeding sluggishly and got another look at the worryingly large pool of red.
"He's lost a lot of blood," he said to Giorno.
The blond nodded, face pale and tight as he was already pulling a pin from his suit, having Gold infuse it with life.
"I'll replace what I can. I can at least stop the bleeding for now and when we get him back home, Gold and I can work on checking to see if there's still internal damage."
Leone groaned and Bucciarati squeezed his shoulder, reaching down to pull his hand and shirt out of the way for Giorno and his Stand to work. "Narancia, Mista, go pull the car around."
They hurried away and Giorno began healing what he could, starting to repair Abbacchio's flesh. The goth flinched and tried to pull away with a groan of pain, but Bruno held him still while Giorno worked and the bleeding had stopped by the time the others got back.
"Let's get him in the car then. Any other life-threatening injuries?" Bruno asked.
Leone shook his head then cried out as Bruno and Mista helped pull him to his feet before practically carrying him toward the car.
They settled him in the back where Narancia let Abbacchio's head rest in his lap, before Bruno searched the injured man's pockets and found his car keys. He straightened up, closing the door behind him and handed the keys to Mista.
"Drive his car back, there's no point in leaving it here."
Mista nodded and hurried toward the other car as Bruno and Giorno climbed in the front and silently drove back to the house.
Bruno's hands gripped the wheel tightly, tense and furious. He would rain hell down on anyone who thought they could do this to one of his team, especially on Christmas.
Abbacchio made several sounds of discomfort every time they went over a bump, and Bruno was glad when they finally made it back home.
Trish and Fugo ran out to meet them.
"Did you find him?" Fugo demanded.
"Yes, we need to get him inside and cleaned up," Bruno said quietly as he opened the back of the car and reached inside for Leone who still seemed out of it. Probably had hit his head too. Bruno got one limp arm over his shoulders before Fugo ducked in on Abbacchio's other side and helped maneuver him into the house.
Dinner was completely abandoned as they worked on getting their wounded friend upstairs to his room.
"Bathroom first," Bruno instructed, moving toward the bathroom where they lowered Leone down to sit on a small bench, propping him against the wall.
"I'll get him some clean clothes," Fugo said and ducked out.
"Giorno," Bruno called and the blond stepped in, helping Bruno get Abbacchio's blood-soaked clothes off with the aid of Sticky Fingers.
As they set his coat aside, Bruno realized Leone's wallet was still in his pocket. It hadn't been a random mugging then. And it didn't seem to be a Stand user either. Not that they weren't without their enemies but, this just seemed to have come out of the blue.
He hissed sympathetically as they peeled Abbacchio's shirt off and revealed the extent of his injuries in the full light.
Dark bruises spread across his stomach and ribcage, and even some on his lower back. The skin was split in places, showing that brass knuckles had been used in the fight as well as the knife. Bruno had already suspected more than one assailant as Leone didn't exactly go down easy, but this had obviously been a brutal beat down.
He wet a cloth to start cleaning away the blood and Abbacchio groaned, goosebumps breaking over his skin as he started to curl forward.
"Sorry," Bruno murmured before turning to Giorno who had Gold Experience out again. "Can you tell if he's still bleeding internally?"
Giorno allowed his Stand to examine Abbacchio for a moment before pulling away. "No, I don't think the knife went too deep and I was able to repair everything that was damaged. I can't do much for the bruises though."
"S'fine," Abbacchio murmured, eyes blinking open for a couple seconds. "Jus give me some pain meds. I'll b'good."
Bruno furrowed his brow as he reached out to carefully pull Leone's hair away from the spot where blood was matting it, trying to inspect the injury there. Leone hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Do you think you're concussed?" Giorno asked him.
"Mmn," Abbacchio hummed in the negative.
"You have quite the bump though," Bruno said before he started cleaning the blood from his hair then set the cloth aside to disinfect the wound.
Abbacchio clumsily grabbed the cloth and started wiping blood and smudged lipstick and eyeliner off his face. He was mostly just smearing it, and Bruno eventually took the cloth from him to finish the job. Leone sat there with a mortified expression, shoulders slumped. Bruno gave one a small squeeze, trying to offer some reassurance.
Fugo came back in with fresh clothes and when Bruno had cleaned and bandaged Leone's other minor injuries, they helped him change into them.
"Let's get him into bed," Bruno told the others quietly.
They pulled Abbacchio up again and helped him to his room. He sank onto the bed with a groan, arms curling around his middle.
"I'll grab the pain pills," Fugo said as he and Giorno left.
Bruno pulled the covers that had been crumpled at the bottom of the bed up over Abbacchio. Even though Giorno had replaced most of his lost blood, it was still cold in the room, and he needed to be kept warm. Leone didn't say anything, keeping his eyes shut until Fugo came back with the medicine and a glass of water and Bruno helped the injured man prop himself up briefly and take them.
"Get some rest," he said quietly afterward, tucking the blankets firmly around his shoulders.
Leone gave a soft groan in reply and Bruno turned around, nodding to Fugo as they left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
They went back downstairs where everyone was gathered in the living room, standing around worriedly. A cloud fallen over what had been a happy, festive atmosphere just a couple hours earlier.
"Is Abba going to be okay?" Trish asked, hugging herself.
"He'll be fine, he just needs to rest a little," Bruno told her. Now that he knew Leone would be fine, he was more worried about the why he had been attacked in the first place. Because he knew well enough that sometimes it wasn't the physical wounds that took the most to heal.
Abbacchio shifted restlessly in the bed, groaning into his pillow. He'd managed to pass out for a while, but with the extent of his bruises it was hard to find a comfortable position and on top of that, his mind was full of things he would rather not think about.
He hadn't needed to run into the sister he had once been so close with, who he tried not to think about because the memories would remind him of better times. Or rather, times when he had been unforgivably naive. He hadn't needed to be reminded of his worst moment, not when he already felt like shit.
He shifted again, but only managed to strain his ribs. He gasped, curling in the bed.
The door opened quietly and he glanced up to see Bruno peering in, already dressed in his sleep clothes. When he saw Abbacchio was awake he slipped inside.
"I came to see if you needed anything," he said softly. "How do you feel?"
In answer Abbacchio groaned, flopping mostly onto his back. That position felt all right for now.
"Do you feel up to eating something? There's still some leftovers from dinner."
"Not right now," Abbacchio murmured, closing his eyes to indicate he was done with this conversation.
Bruno obviously wasn't going to accept that, however, and sat down on the side of the bed. Abbacchio opened his eyes again to glare at him.
"I know something more happened than a random mugging," Bruno said. "If you want to talk about it…"
Abbacchio sighed. "I don't."
Bruno gave him a look. "Do you need to talk about it?"
Abbacchio looked away, placing a hand carefully against the flesh Giorno had repaired, rubbing at the dull ache absently. "Ran into someone from my past," he muttered.
Bruno leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees. "From the police force?"
Abbacchio swallowed hard. "No. My…sister."
Bruno straightened, cocking his head to one side in interest. "She did this to you?"
"No," Abbacchio scoffed. "The guys she was with did. They knew. One of them was…was my partner's cousin."
Bruno didn't say anything, but his hand found Abbacchio's shoulder and squeezed comfortingly.
"So they wanted revenge?" Bruno finally asked.
"Just stupid kids," Abbacchio sighed. "Not like it wasn't justified."
"Leone," Bruno chided sadly. "I thought you promised not to do this anymore."
"Is it not true?" Abbacchio spat.
"You think you deserve to bleed out in some back alley?" Bruno demanded, anger tinting his voice. "You're not alone anymore, Leone, you have a family who was waiting for you to come home—who was worried when you didn't."
Abbacchio sneered, looking away. "Don't have to make me feel worse."
"Telling you people care makes you feel worse?" Bruno asked, incredulous.
"Not what I meant," Abbacchio huffed and finally turned back to Bruno. "You know it's hard for me to remember sometimes that care goes both ways. Or that it's...justified."
There was a slightly longsuffering sigh and Bruno gave him a sad smile, squeezing his arm gently. "Yes. And that's why I try to remind you as much as possible."
Abbacchio sighed and closed his eyes again. "I know I should just let go," he said. "Sometimes it hardly even feels like the same life anymore. But…sometimes it's hard."
"You know, Leone, if you really wanted to see your family again—"
"No," Abbacchio said firmly. "It's best to leave some things in the past. They don't want my shit. They made that clear enough. But…it's okay. Like you said, I have a new family now."
Bruno gave him a look he couldn't quite read but squeezed his arm one more time before he stood. "There's another dose of pain pills on your bedside table. You can take them after 2."
Abbacchio nodded gratefully and closed his eyes as Bruno left the room. Leone resumed the struggle to get comfortable.
The door opened again a few minutes later though and a slim, messy-haired figure slipped inside, peering intently at the bed.
Abbacchio grunted, peeling one eye open. "I'm awake, kid. What d'ya want?"
Narancia swiftly tiptoed over to the bed and crawled in without invitation, stealing half the blankets. "You're feeling okay?"
"No, I feel like I got hit by a truck, but I'm not dying."
"That's good," Narancia said, snuggling closer, but was thankfully careful not to put any pressure on his injuries. "I was worried."
Abbacchio closed his eyes again with a sigh. "Sorry I ruined Christmas."
"You didn't ruin Christmas," Narancia protested. "You would have if you had died, but, you're okay, so… it's okay.
Abbacchio snorted, but couldn't stop the small smile curling one side of his mouth. "All right, if you say so."
Narancia rested his chin against Abbacchio's shoulder. "I get not wanting to see your family again. Like, I have family still in the city too, but…I don't really care to see them anymore."
"Were you eavesdropping, brat?" Abbacchio grunted.
"No! I was just waiting for Santa to show up," Narancia snarked, sticking his tongue out. "Point it, I think it's okay if you don't want to. Sometimes family is who you make it and no one gets to make those rules for you. And it's also okay if you miss them."
Abbacchio digested the words for a long moment before he said, "You know, you're actually pretty smart sometimes, kid."
"Thanks. Tell Fugo that," Narancia grinned. "Now come on, Abba, get some sleep. If you don't, you might just get coal in your stocking."
"I'll give you coal," Abbacchio muttered, as he shut his eyes again. The kid's warm presence and the sound of his steady breathing somehow worked to soothe him out of his depressive thoughts. Narancia was right, after all, family was who you made it. Even if that meant a ragtag bunch of misfits who had somehow climbed to the top of a crime syndicate.
He must have eventually fallen asleep, because Leone was woken way too early by Narancia shaking him awake.
"Come on, Abba! It's Christmas! Get up!"
Abbacchio groaned, getting a look at the clock. "It's way too early," he growled.
"Yeah, that's the point, I wanna open my presents!" Narancia said, tugging on his arm. "We have the day off, you can sleep later."
"Fine," Leone groaned and pushed himself upright. His body protested enormously, every ache from the night before to explode. He let out a sharp exhale of pain and Narancia was thankfully gentler with him, helping him into his robe and pulling him out of bed, positioning one of Abbacchio's arms around the thin shoulders.
"Come on, old man," he grinned.
"Old man my ass; I'm injured, you little bastard."
"Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas to you too, Abba."
They finally made it downstairs and Narancia deposited Abbacchio on the couch. Trish and Mista were excitedly checking out the presents under the tree and Narancia joined them. Giorno, Bruno and Fugo could be heard in the kitchen and Abbacchio smelled the life-giving aroma of coffee being brewed.
"So, Narancia got you up after all," Giorno said with a small smile as he came in, dressed in some stupid ladybug pajama pants and a pink robe. "How do you feel?"
Abbacchio gave a non-committal grunt. "Breathing."
Giorno shrugged as if that was a fair assessment.
"Merry Christmas everyone!"
Bruno came in with a tray of coffee and cocoas and some breakfast pastries. He turned to Abbacchio with a smile and finally handed him a cup of coffee.
"I'm glad you decided to join us," he said.
Abbacchio rolled his eyes. "Narancia wasn't exactly going to let me refuse."
Bruno smiled fondly over at the rest of the gang before stepping over toward the tree as everyone got louder. "All right, all right, you can start opening stuff now, just don't run over each other."
Abbacchio watched the chaos ensue and had to admit that he didn't really mind it. Especially not that he had coffee and another dose of pain medicine Bruno had handed him. The couch was comfortable and he was perfectly content to sit there as the others did their thing.
That was when the doorbell rang.
Everyone looked up in confusion.
"That's strange," Giorno commented. "It's a bit early."
"I'll go check it out," Bruno said and left the room. Abbacchio craned his head toward the foyer, hoping there wasn't trouble, but the capo simply returned a few seconds later holding a bouquet and a card.
"Who was it?" Narancia demanded.
"There wasn't anyone there, but this was left for you, Leone," Bruno said, handing him the bouquet and the card. "From someone who, I would hazard to say, knows you quite well."
Abbacchio looked in bemusement at the flowers—black and purple roses. Strangely specific indeed. He opened the card and familiar handwriting struck him as he read the message inside.
"Hey, Leo, I know it's been a long time but I felt like I needed to get in touch after last night. I really hope you're okay. I don't think I'm going to be seeing Franco anymore. This sounds stupid, but seeing you last night reminded me of how much I miss you. I don't know if you want to see me again, but if you ever do, just look me up. I don't care what you're doing now as long as you're happy. I really miss you, big bro. Merry Christmas.
P.S. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find black roses at Christmas time?"
Under the message there was a phone number scrawled in a different color pen as if as an afterthought. Leone felt his chest warm and tighten at the same time, a mixture of emotions he couldn't quite process.
"Are you all right, Leone?" Bruno finally asked, cutting into his thoughts.
Abbacchio folded the card carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his robe. "Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."
And he actually meant it. Maybe someday he would get back in touch with his sister. He didn't know how soon that would be, but, for some reason, knowing the door was at least open made all the difference.
"Let me get you a vase for those, they're really pretty," Trish said as she took the flowers from Abbacchio with a smile.
"Who's sending Abba flowers?" Narancia asked with a grin.
"Wouldn't you like to know, brat?" Abbacchio snipped back. "Ask me again and I won't give you my gift to you."
"All right, not my business, I get it," Narancia said.
Leone smirked and sat back again.
Once all the presents were opened and there was nothing but drifts of paper left, Mista suggested they watch Home Alone. Everyone went to grab blankets and snacks and Bruno finally got the chance to sit down, taking a seat next to Abbacchio on the couch.
"I think you should go meet your sister," he said quietly. "It might be good for both of you."
Leone looked away. "I'll think about it."
Bruno hummed softly at the reply but before he could say anything else, all the others decided to pile onto the couch as the movie started, smashing Abbacchio in the center, Narancia actually laying across his lap when there wasn't enough room.
But while he might have normally gotten annoyed with that, it was Christmas, and on top of that, he was too tired and sore to go anywhere. The press of everyone around him was warm and genuinely inviting. Halfway through the movie, Bruno, obviously exhausted, passed out on his shoulder and Narancia didn't take long to follow, even though he would probably complain about missing his favorite part later.
Leone lay back against the couch, actually feeling more content than he had for a while. He glanced toward the roses that were sitting on a table across the room and thought that, maybe after the holidays were over, he would go see Silvia again. But until then, Leone was content to stay here with his new family. After all, no one ever said you couldn't have more than one.
