Okay, people, this is going to be a long one, and it's just...so much angst. But it's been one that I have been wanting to write for a long time mwah-haha XD
And don't worry, there will be a happy ending...eventually. Until then prepare for all the Giorno whump.
Family Matters
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
Chapter One
"Thank you so much, Don Giorno. You've been such a big help to us over the past few weeks."
"It's no problem," Giorno said with a smile as he grasped the shopkeeper's hand and bowed slightly to his wife before he and the others left to go see about their other duties for the day.
The weather was lovely. It was quickly approaching autumn and normally, Giorno would have been thinking about school, but now he was running Passione, and between that and the lessons he was doing with Fugo, he hardly had time to think about anything but his duties.
That was why it was nice to get out of the office for a change. He'd been in meetings all week with the different capos, setting out plans for the future which he and Bucciarati had spent too many long nights agonizing over. They'd taken out a lot of the drug rings since their team had taken over, and Giorno knew they were helping bring his city into a brighter future, but it was still nice to actually get out and talk to the people, get to see it happening. It's how Bucciarati had always done it, and Giorno was determined to continue doing the same. He certainly wasn't going to hide himself away like Diavolo.
"How many more stops are on the list today?" he asked Fugo as the other boy and Mista followed him out of the shop.
"Just two—protection collections. Mista and I can handle this if you want," Fugo told him.
"I don't mind, it's nice to be out for a while," Giorno said with a smile. "It won't take that long to finish anyway."
"Maybe we can grab lunch afterward," Mista suggested. "The Pistols are getting restless."
"Sure," Giorno replied. In the meantime, they moved on to their next destination. They were closer to the part of town Giorno had grown up in now, and he tried to hide the slight unease that settled in him as it always did if he had to go anywhere near the area. It didn't hold the greatest memories. Still, there was something to be said for being able to know that your life was better when looking back at your past.
The first stop was handled without issue and they quickly moved on to the next one. It was a busy time of day though, and the street was clogged with people going about their day. Giorno got separated from Mista and Fugo by a couple cutting between them, and was about to push through and hurry along when someone called him from behind.
"Giorno?!"
He froze briefly, glancing around to see who had called him.
Only to be confronted directly by his past.
Standing there behind him were his mother and stepfather. Both of them with expressions that read of shock, anger, and general contempt. Giorno almost turned around and hurried away right there, but that would be cowardly.
"Where the hell have you been?" his mother demanded. "The school called saying you left in the middle of the semester and no one knew where you went."
Giorno straightened his shoulders. "I had things to take care of."
His stepfather spat on the ground in distain. "What could a brat like you have to take care of? You either need to be at school or back at the house helping out."
His mother blinked at him. "Did you bleach your hair? And that's not your school uniform, that looks like a very expensive suit," she commented, because of course she would know, a look of greed in her eyes. "Where exactly have you been?"
Giorno's lip curled in disdain before he could stop it, despite the fact that his heart was nearly pounding out of his chest. "It's not your concern. You don't have to worry about me anymore."
His stepfather looked furious. He took a step forward and it took everything in Giorno not to flinch back. He refused. Gold Experience hummed underneath his skin and he knew that with one snap of his fingers he could do the same thing to his stepfather as he had done to Diavolo.
"You insolent little bastard, I should teach you a lesson."
Giorno could feel his mouth go dry, his heart still pounding fit to burst out of his chest, but he schooled his expression, turning steely eyes directly toward his stepfather's. "I'm not yours anymore. I have more important things to spend my time on."
"Giorno, hey, Giorno! Where are you?"
Giorno felt instant relief upon hearing Mista's voice in the crowd. He gave one last nod to his parents and turned around. "Goodbye."
"There you are," Mista said, meeting him a few steps later and grabbing his arm to pull him through the crowd. "Come on, we only have one stop left, then we can go get lunch!"
Giorno nodded automatically, but he wasn't hungry anymore. He didn't look back, but he was sure he felt his stepfather's eyes boring into the back of his head.
Giovanna watched the brat walk off with hatred boiling inside of him.
"Who does he think he is parading around like that in a silk suit?" his wife snarled. "Where'd he get all that money?"
Someone sweeping the sidewalk glanced up at them. "That's Don Giorno," he said.
The couple's eyes widened at the moniker. "Don Giorno," Mr. Giovanna snorted. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
The man stopped sweeping to lean on his broom, looking at them like they were insane. "You mean you haven't heard? That kid's the new head of Passione."
"What?!" the woman shrieked. "You can't be serious. How could he have possibly managed that, he's only sixteen."
The man shrugged. "No one knows the real story. Only that things went down between a small faction of Passione and the Boss and when it was over Giorno Giovanna and Bucciarati's team were leading the operation." He stared at them seriously. "You want my advice, I'd show him a little more respect. Anyone who hasn't, well…you don't see them again."
Giovanna laughed wryly. "Cheeky little prick. I don't have to offer him anything."
The man looked aside, going back to sweeping. "Don't say I didn't warn you then."
Giovanna snorted again and grabbed his wife by the arm, hauling her away.
"How could he possibly have managed that?" she demanded. "And without even bothering to think of sending us any money?"
"You don't actually believe any of that, do you?" he scoffed.
She pressed her lips together. "I don't know. He always was a weird kid. And his father…" She shook her head. "Look, what if it is? If he's supposedly so rich, he should be obligated to help his family, right?"
"You think he would now after all this time?"
"If he won't then we'll find some way to make him," she said. "I had to take care of that brat his whole life when I didn't even want him in the first place, I should get something out of it."
Giovanna grunted, but didn't argue. He didn't really believe the little freak was actually the Don of Passione, but he obviously had money coming from somewhere and that was better than nothing.
Maybe there was something to the idea.
Giorno was glad to finally be back home. The otherwise pleasant day out had undeniably been ruined by the unexpected visit from his past life. Even lunch hadn't been enjoyable, his stomach in too many knots to eat more than he had to in order to keep up appearances that everything was all right. Once they got back, he locked himself into the office for the rest of the afternoon, throwing himself into work. Though even going through a stack of appeals and propositions wasn't enough to distract him from the day's events.
It shouldn't bother you, he kept telling himself. You never have to go back there again. They're not your family anymore.
It didn't help, though, no matter how many times he told himself that, he couldn't deny how unnerving it had been to be suddenly faced by his mother and stepfather without any warning or preparation. He'd tried to avoid going back to that part of the city as much as possible. What were the odds that the second he did, he would instantly come face to face with the two people he never wanted to see again?
"Giorno? Is everything okay?"
He glanced up sharply to see Bucciarati looking over from his own desk, a concerned furrow between his brows. Giorno realized suddenly that he was no longer holding a pen, but a beetle that crawled across his loosely clenched fingers. He swiftly used Gold to turn it back.
"I'm fine," he said, rubbing his eyes briefly. "Just a little tired."
Bucciarati pressed his lips together in a way that divulged he could tell there was something else, but thankfully he didn't pry at this point. "Perhaps it's a good idea to start getting some more sleep."
Giorno sighed, putting his pen down and reaching for his now cold cup of coffee. "There's just so much to do."
Bucciarati stood up and crossed to the desk, picking up several more of the letters. "And you're still growing, so you need sleep." He took the cup of coffee the instant Giorno put it down. "And too much caffeine will stunt your growth."
Giorno huffed, lowering his chin into his hand. At least Bruno cared, though. Giorno would take that any day, even without coffee.
Bucciarati ran his hand briefly through Giorno's hair in a fond, unconscious gesture. Giorno fought the urge to lean into the touch, or simply bury his face in Bucciarati's side but he really shouldn't act so childish, as much as he wanted to just enjoy the fact that he had a surrogate parent now who was extremely kind and caring. "Come on, I'll help you go through these last few letters. Then it will probably be time for dinner. I think Mista and Narancia are cooking tonight."
Giorno wasn't exactly hungry, but he didn't want anyone to worry about him either. He wasn't ready to talk about his past yet, and he knew that if he mentioned what had happened that day, Mista would be furious he hadn't said anything earlier when he could have still had the opportunity to punch Giorno's stepfather in the face. Giorno almost smiled at the idea, but again, why bother thinking about it anymore? It was in the past.
And he could finally say with certainty that the past could stay where it was.
With Bucciarati helping go through the stack, it didn't take long at all, and discussing the letters helped Giorno keep his mind on track as well. It at least got him through to dinner when they all gathered at the table as Mista and Narancia served food. It smelled delicious, despite Giorno's lack of hunger, and he sat down, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, hoping that if anything, everyone would just assume he was tired, which wasn't entirely untrue.
He let the wave of usual chatter wash over him as he moved food around his plate, taking several bites here and there. Again, memories of his past assaulted him, of having to wait for his stepfather to give him food and then it was hardly ever enough. But if he begged for more…
"Hey, brat, did you hear me? I said pass the salt."
Giorno jumped in his seat, heart pounding in his chest as he whipped his head up, expecting to see his stepfather standing over him. But it was just Abbacchio with an annoyed expression, sitting across the table.
"Leone," Bucciarati muttered with a shake of his head.
It wasn't Abbacchio's fault that he chose to call Giorno that at the worst time imaginable. Giorno had come to learn that from Abbacchio it was practically a term of endearment and normally he didn't mind it. But that night in his current headspace, it left him frozen, unable to even respond. Everyone stared at him.
Say something, he screamed at himself. You're acting weird. They'll notice something's wrong.
To Abbacchio's credit, his annoyance was replaced with a look of confusion and even a little concern. "Kid? Hey, everything all right?"
Giorno wet his lips and finally found his voice. He must look ghastly if even Abbacchio was concerned. "Yes, sorry, you just startled me." He quickly picked up the salt and handed it across the table, trying to keep his hand from shaking. Abbacchio took it, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. "I was just thinking about stuff for tomorrow," Giorno added lamely, staring back down to his plate, picking up his fork again, obviously dismissing the conversation.
"You really need to get an early night tonight," Bucciarati chided. "Fugo and I can finish up the rest of the paperwork."
Giorno didn't argue. If nothing else, it would be a good excuse to escape the others so they didn't pry.
He helped clean up after dinner and then retreated upstairs before anyone could confront him again. He took a long, hot shower, trying to calm himself down, wash away the day's occurrences.
You never have to see them again, he kept telling himself even as he avoided washing his back so he wouldn't have to feel his scars. You never have to go back there.
Still, he was sure that he would have nightmares that night, knew it was inevitable as he crawled into bed with a book he tried to concentrate on reading. He hated feeling this vulnerable. He didn't even understand why. He hadn't even felt this vulnerable when he had gone up against Diavolo. He knew he could make sure his stepfather met the same fate as the previous Boss, but yet, every time he thought about him, his rational mind was crushed with past trauma that he'd done so well with hiding and pushing away with absence. As soon as he had been able, he had moved into student housing so he wouldn't even have to go back to his parents' house, even during vacation times. With the money he made through scams and pick-pocketing, he was able to pay for everything he needed, pretending the money came from his parents. Sure, it wasn't exactly much, but anything was better than going back there.
"You don't have to go back," Giorno whispered to himself, glancing over at his desk where there sat a framed picture of their team. "You have another family now," he finished, trying to imbue himself with a little calm.
It worked at least enough for him to get to sleep, though the nightmares that plagued him kept his rest from being peaceful.
Giovanna and his wife spent several days thinking about what they could do to make Giorno share a little of his newfound wealth.
"There's always blackmail," Mrs. Giovanna suggested with a glint in her eyes.
Her husband snorted. "But what could we use that anyone would believe?"
She narrowed her eyes at him like he was stupid. "Think about it, we have more information on him than anyone else. I'm his mother. He probably has them believing he's some rich businessman's son or something. When in reality he doesn't even have a scrap of Italian in him. You think he wants everyone to know that a half-Japanese kid is running the Neapolitan crime syndicate?"
Giovanna grunted. "You have a point with that. But he might be too powerful to care about that if everything is to be believed. It might not matter." He stood up. "Look, I know a place we can go and ask for someone to collect information for us."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "We'll have to pay them for that, you know."
"And if our plan works, we'll have all the money we need at our disposal," Giovanna reminded her. "The brat will pay the fee for his own investigation."
Mrs. Giovanna finally nodded. "Well, all right. When do we start?"
"We can go tomorrow," Giovanna said, already eagerly awaiting putting the plan in action.
