Okay this is a bit of a weird one XD So my discord server did a challenge where we wrote something based off of a song and I had originally had a different idea but then this one just randomly popped out of nowhere and wouldn't let me go, so...yeah. I hope you enjoy this weird AU.
This is based off of the Black Parade album as a whole-shout out to Wendigoon and his analysis video + chronological track list that I have watched several times and definitely influenced what I did with this storyline.
The Sharpest Lives
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
As Abbacchio lays dying, a casualty of his own consequences, a black-haired reaper shows up to tell him just how damned he is. But maybe there's still a chance that both of these lost souls will find peace. (Inspired by The Black Parade by My Chemical Romance)
It ended the same way it started: the concussive sound of gunshots, the impact that sent him reeling, and Abbacchio knew, as he fell to the ground, that this was it. That this was The End.
He felt the impact of the concrete below him, the numbness spreading, the taste of copper in the back of his throat, as everything started to fade out.
"No," he whispered past the blood in his throat. "N-not yet…I…"
He reached a hand up, clawing, but there was no strength left in him. Darkness came in, a poison bleeding into his veins, and he fell.
A gasp.
Leone Abbacchio heaved a breath as he surged upright, launching himself from the ground, so light of body he staggered. What had happened? He could have sworn he…
Leone turned around and horror crept through him as he saw a figure lying on the ground in a pool of blood, twitching, blood dribbling out of his mouth, staining the black lipstick that painted his mouth into a hard line, a shock of white hair visible against the dinginess of the alley.
"That's…impossible…" he breathed, hands coming up to his chest, but this form of him was not bleeding out, nor were there bullet holes in his clothing and chest. What the hell was happening?
"Figured it out yet?"
Leone spun around to see a figure lounging on top of a couple crates on one side of the alley. A figure in black, like a carrion bird, perched there waiting for his chance to feed. raven black hair was pulled back from his face, a few rakish bangs hovering over otherworldly blue eyes that sent shivers down Leone's spine.
"What?" he asked, still obviously in shock. Was this a dream—a nightmare? He had no idea. His brain was reeling.
"Haven't you heard the news?" The figure in black grinned as he pushed himself off the crate and stepped jauntily over to Leone as if he were enjoying all of this like some bizarre show, soaking up Leone's confusion as if he were dying of thirst. He jabbed Leone in the center of the chest. "You're dead."
The realization came crashing in like the bullets to his chest a few moments ago and Leone staggered away from this man—or, whatever he was.
"No," he said. "No, that, no…I can't be…this is—"
"A nightmare? A mistake? You got the wrong guy?" the man tittered mockingly before his gaze leveled on Leone, piercing him. "No, my dear Officer Abbacchio, it's certainly not a mistake. Nor is it a nightmare. You're really here, in limbo, while your body's breathing its dying breaths."
Abbacchio could feel his chest constrict, denial quickly taking over and fighting with a sudden bout of fury that he couldn't quite contain. He ground his teeth. "No. Hell no. It can't end like this."
He strode over to his twitching body and glowered at the man in black as he simply stood there with his head cocked, watching. "Do something, you bastard! Call the ambulance!"
"Now why would I do that, Officer—or, well, I suppose I shouldn't be calling you that, should I?" A cruel sneer twisted the man's face, ice glinting now in those blue eyes. "No, truly, you're just getting what you deserve, don't you think?"
A pang went through Abbacchio's chest. The words stung, but he bit back the urge to snarl back at the man. "No! I don't even know who shot me! I—I'm only twenty-one, I can't die yet!"
"Oh, boo-hoo," the man fake-pouted. "Not all of us have the luxury of dying of old age, darling. It's just bam! Heaven or Hell, and me, whose job it is to take you there. So, what do you think, Abbacchio? Up or down? Where will you end up?"
Leone curled his lip in desperation. "Just shut up for a second!"
"Care for me to make an educated guess then?" A laugh, the kind that told of someone who enjoyed seeing the pain of others. "Oh, well, I would hazard to say that you haven't got a prayer."
"What the hell do you mean?"
"I mean you're dead and you're as good as damned," the man said with dark satisfaction, advancing on Abbacchio again. "You can plead and cry as much as you want but it isn't going to change anything. It's not like you have anyone who'll miss you. You've done a fine job of pushing everyone you cared about away—if you didn't just straight up kill them."
"Who the hell are you?!" Abbacchio demanded, reaching out to grab the man by the front of his coat. "W-what are you?"
The man—or whatever he was—seemed undeterred, still wearing that sickening grin on his face. "What am I? I can see that brain of yours working overtime." He jabbed Leone's temple hard with a black-painted nail. "Could he be an angel? A devil perhaps? I'm neither, as it turns out. I'm just here to do my job."
"And what is that?" Leone ground out.
"Ferrying suckers like you to the afterlife," the man in black said. "Every bastard is the same. They all try to plead, they try to deny, but the same thing awaits us all in the end, doesn't it, Leone? In the end, life's just one big joke, isn't it? So, don't you think it's better to just laugh about it?" A maniacal cackle escaped the man's throat, before he held up a hand. "I'm obliged to remind you of why you're here. Why don't we take a look at some of Leone Abbacchio's greatest hits, hm?"
He raised a hand and snapped his fingers and suddenly the night-drenched alleyway swirled around them sickeningly. Leone was forced to collapse to his knees as he was assaulted by visions of his past.
A fresh-faced young man in a crisp new uniform. Tentative smile as he clutched his cap to his chest proudly.
Vowing to uphold justice. Chasing down petty thieves and purse-snatchers.
The weight on his shoulders as things continued to pile up: derision, accusation, the hopelessness…
The first of many times money exchanged hands. The pit in his stomach as it did so.
Back-alley deals. Covering evidence. Falsifying reports. Worried queries from his partner that he brushed off.
Leone gave a shuddering gasp. "Stop. Stop this!" he pleaded, but the flashes kept coming. He could not squeeze his eyes shut because the visions continued to appear, forcing their way past his eyelids.
That night, at the store. Brief recognition, hesitation, before there was a shout. Two gunshots, but only one that mattered.
He stood before the court. A woman was weeping on one side and the guilt weighed him down even more.
His own family refused to speak to him. The door stayed closed no matter how long he knocked.
One glass of fiery liquid, turning into five, then more. Over and over and over. Fists flying. The pain didn't matter and he didn't care who he hurt.
His hands were bloody, bodies lying at his feet as he spat. Stealing bottles from the wrecked bar before staggering off into the night.
"Look at you," the man—the reaper, Leone reminded himself—sneered. "Back in the day you were such a good little choir boy—a compliment, I swear!—but you fell to the corruption of this city like the rest of the bastards that live here. You damned yourself the first time you took that bribe. And that's the one that did it, wasn't it? The one that truly marked your descent."
"Stop," Leone pleads, covering his eyes as the visions swirl faster and faster around him. A hand grabbed his chin and forced his head back up, the reaper crouched beside him, speaking darkly into his ear.
"You killed your partner with your weakness. A life for a life, or a death for a death, I suppose. You used to stand for justice, Leone—what the hell happened?"
Leone tried to turn away, but the reaper wrenched his head back around, that sickening grin on his face, a wild look in his eye. "You're weak. That's what. Weak, and dead, and good fucking riddance to you then."
"What the fuck to you know?" Leone roared, shoving him away. The reaper fell back and the visions cracked and fell away with him as Leone staggered to his feet again.
He stormed to his body and tried to reach for it, but his hands went right through the form. He was nothing but a ghost.
"It won't work," the reaper told him. "But look on the bright side. You can't hurt anyone anymore, Leone. Now come." He pulled a bottle out of nowhere, two glasses appearing in his other hand. "How about we give a farewell toast. A little shot to remember, hm?"
Leone snarled and lashed out, striking the cups from the reaper's hand. He was beyond furious at this point. He grabbed the reaper again, shaking him. "Look, I don't know what the hell is going on here, but I'm gonna give you the chance to explain to me how to go back before I start using my fists."
"You really think that will work?" the reaper asked, an amused look on his face that also held something else. Exhaustion, perhaps. Before Leone could think of it further however, the reaper grabbed his wrists, and leaned in until all Leone knew were the piercing blue eyes that bore into his very soul. "Then leave."
Leone was shocked as the reaper shoved him away and he staggered. "What?"
"That's right, go on." The reaper goaded, shoving him in the chest again. "Leave! Leave like everyone else with half a braincell."
Leone furrowed his brow in confusion but the reaper sneered again. "Or stay—I could care less. Stay and become just like me: damned, a wandering soul left to guide poor saps like you to their sorry afterlives—and the thanks I get for that."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Leone demanded, not understanding this sudden shift in the reaper. The obvious bitterness that he could hear seeping from his voice.
"We're all damned, aren't we?" the reaper said with a wry laugh that caught in his throat, desperate, strangled. "Life's a fucking joke, right? Just like I said before. And so is death. You can either burn in hell or crawl your way up in the hopes that you'll be able to someday free yourself from the endless cycle of shit and apathy."
Leone didn't understand a word he was saying. His mind was still in a swirl of turmoil. "And who the hell are you to judge?" he demanded. "If you're damned too, then why do you get to come and preach to me?"
"Leone, Leone, Leone, still in denial that you're here because you deserve no better than dying alone in a gutter for what you did?" the reaper growled.
"I was a good person!" Leone snapped, before biting his tongue. "I—I tried, I really fucking tried."
"Did you? Because I can see on your stupid mug that even you don't believe that," the reaper said, voice dripping with disgust, just like all the people he once knew, sneering at him as he passed. "Sorry to break it to you, pal, but the only thing you succeeded in was perverting the very justice you vowed to serve. And you have the gall to plead innocent still—to pretend you tried." He was in Leone's face again, once again shoving him back.
"You really think you'd be here now, dying alone, if you'd tried?!" His voice was hoarse. "Don't try to pretend around me, I know! You thought you sank low in your little tumble from grace? Darling, I've done things you'll never know. You wanna see corruption? You wanna see what true damnation is like? You wanna see how far I can sink?"
His eyes were wild and his hands gripped his hair, threatening to tear it from his head. This devolvement unnerved Leone, but it suddenly didn't seem to matter. None of this seemed to matter because…
"You're right." It was a quiet admission, but it still stopped the reaper in his tracks, leaving him frozen.
"What?" he demanded sharply.
Leone turned around to meet his unnerving eyes. "You're right. I don't have the right to play the victim. I spent so long pretending I wasn't sorry for everything I did, using everyone's hatred as fuel to justify my actions, and that wasn't right. I did lose myself, and you know why? Because I found out this world isn't a place for idealists." He spat the last word with vitriol, causing the reaper to widen his eyes.
"All my life, I aspired to help people. Protect the weak, to do good in this fucked up world, but life isn't…it doesn't work like that. You scrape and claw and everyone else is just out there to kick you back down into the dirt." He sneered. "So I became one of those people too. So blame me. Just like everyone else. We're all human, right?" He snorted. "Or, whatever the hell you are. Not like you could understand, I'm sure."
The reaper's face lost all sense of derision, simply falling blank as he stared at Leone, lips parted as if to say something he couldn't quite find the words for.
It was a long moment of hesitation, and Leone began to turn away when he heard the quiet reply. "I…I do. I do understand," the reaper whispered as if it were a secret. "But I…"
Everything was starting to swirl again. Leone spun around, a question on his lips, but this time it was the reaper's turn to stagger, clutching his head as terror filled his mocking eyes. "Wh-what the hell is this?" he demanded.
Leone watched as the darkness turned into visions once more, but these were not of Leone's past. They were that of a stranger:
A young boy, laughing happily with his mother and father.
The mother leaving in the night, the boy choosing to stay.
Men with guns bursting into the house, the man protecting his son with his own body. The boy taking up a knife and screaming, cutting until there was nothing left.
A lithe form in a suit, kissing the ring of a man who held an obvious authority.
The visions went faster and faster, just snatches of moments that were coated so often in blood.
A young man with raven-black hair, issuing an order to shoot a man in an alleyway—standing among a group of several other rough young men, laughing as they wiped blood from broken knuckles—gambling hall brawls, back alley shootouts, a set up—the black-haired man screaming on his knees among the bodies of his comrades—him and the streets soaked in blood—gunfire—dead bodies in his wake—a gun pointed at the man he swore himself too—more guns directed at him
The resounding crescendo of gunfire rattled Leone to the bone, and nearly drowned out the screaming of the reaper—the black-haired youth—as he rocked on his knees, tearing at his hair.
"Stop! Stop it!" he screamed. Tears of blood ran down his cheeks as the images replayed themselves faster and faster.
And Leone felt true sympathy for another being for the first time in what seemed like forever. Because he saw in this man, this lost soul, another victim of the evils of the world.
He found himself stepping forward, kneeling down. Without being able to explain why, he reached out and gripped the young man's shoulders.
"It's okay," he found himself saying, to the reaper, and to himself.
The visions stopped in a puff of smoke, leaving only the reaper and Leone kneeling on the ground.
The reaper shook, taking gasping breathes, before he angrily pulled away, staggering to his feet again and scrubbing at his eyes.
Leone gave him a moment to gather himself, as he stood and went to slump down on the crates the reaper had first appeared on. He was…tired. So, so tired suddenly.
"What the fuck?" the reaper was whispering, before he spun back around to Leone with a snarl on his lips. "Go ahead then. Laugh. I told you I was no better than you—hell, I'm worse, aren't I? Say it!"
"No."
"Why not?" the reaper demanded, storming over and grabbing Abbacchio by the front of his overcoat, shaking him. "Just tell me what a fuck-up I am!"
"I'm not gonna do that," Leone replied tiredly, pushing his hands away. He picked up the fallen glasses and the bottle of wine. "Whatever you thought of me, I don't give a shit. But what I saw of you was someone who got into a shitty position and did what he could with it. I'm sure you did what you could to protect them."
"It was my fault," the reaper whispered and suddenly he looked like that young man, no supernatural being at all. "I got too ambitious, thought I could make a change for the good, but I just created more violence because of it, and I got them killed. So I told you I was worse, because I didn't fall like you, I didn't just give up, I still fucking believed I was doing the right thing and my men, my brothers, they died for it."
"That's why you're here isn't it?" Leone suddenly realized. "Because you never reconciled. So you're damned to walk the earth, or…whatever the hell this is."
"I try…I try to save them all, every time. Every soul that I'm sent to collect. But I'm doomed to fail even in this hell. It's my true punishment." The reaper turned away, a pained grimace on his face. "You're not like the others," he said. "You're…"
A rattling breath had them both looking toward Leone's body. The blood had seeped out far past the point of no return. The twitching was slowing down, and his chest spasmed once more, before his head finally tilted to one side. The reaper stood frozen as he watched, a haunted look on his face.
"No," the reaper murmured quietly. "Not again."
Leone felt whatever defiance he had in him slowly slipping away. Replaced by pure acceptance. "It's okay, I think…I think I'm okay with it now," he said. "I'm ready for death. After all, whatever comes next can only be better than this, right?"
Something seemed to suddenly snap in the reaper's face, a desperate look as he turned around toward Leone's body, rushing over. "No, No! Fight, dammit!" He slapped the still form as Leone watched, feeling a disconnect.
"Stop," he said quietly, pouring two glasses of the wine, shocking himself with how calm he actually was, a wry humor coming over him. "I don't really know how this works, but I'm guessing I won't be around much longer, huh?"
"Shut up!" the reaper snapped, pacing around the body, tearing at his hair.
"Why the change of heart?" Leone asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Why yours? You don't really want to go, do you? You have no idea what the hell waits on the other side!"
"Is that what you're afraid of?" Leone asked suddenly and the reaper froze, trembling. He was crying again, silent tears, but these weren't made of blood, they were simply human.
"What the hell are you crying about me for?" Leone asked, standing with the two glasses, holding one out to the reaper. "Come on, you wanted a toast, right? Let's drink to this shitty situation."
"Stop being okay with this!" the reaper screamed, shoving Leone in the chest before going back to the corpse and grabbing the blood-stained coat, shaking. "Wake up! Wake up, dammit! Wake up!"
Leone set the wine aside and strode over, grabbing the reaper's shoulders again and drawing him back.
"Let me go!" the reaper screamed, straining, but Leone only held him tighter.
"Stop. It's okay. It's really okay."
"No it's not! Fuck! I don't…" The reaper flailed, but Leone still held on, drawing him further back. "I don't…want to be this anymore. I don't want to be alone."
The confession was whispered in a way that Leone knew it to be the truth. He finally released the reaper who fell to his knees again, dark hair shielding his eyes.
"You deserve to have someone cry for you," he said finally. "We all do."
Leone stood there, glancing once more at his body, feeling a sense of regret, and finally looked up at the stars overhead. "You know, when I was a young boy, my father…he told me that I would grow up to be a hero. And I wanted to, I vowed to. He died…" he swallowed hard, feeling the guilt and the regret weigh only heavier. "And I vowed to uphold the values he taught me. To keep the promise I made him." He let out a bitter laugh. "I don't think he would be proud of me now, but I like to think that maybe he saw me try. I think your father would be the same."
The reaper took a shuddering breath. "I know that I can't make you stay," he said finally. "And that there's nothing that can change this now, but…" he hesitated and Leone cut in, crouching in front of him and reaching out to grip his shoulders.
"Don't," he said gently, smiling at the other man. "I'm not afraid anymore, and you shouldn't be either."
"How can you say that after everything?"
"You said you have no idea what happens on the other side, right?" Leone asked him. "Maybe this—all this—is some kind of test. Maybe it isn't too late for someone like me to find peace. Maybe…it's not too late for you either."
The reaper finally turned to look up at him, blue eyes meeting Leone's, but they were no longer unnaturally piercing, they were simply tired, human.
"I think that…" the reaper said slowly, quietly, "I've never felt so at peace as I do, right now, with you."
The scene around them shattered, the alley gone, and with it, the reaper, dissolving out of Leone's grasp.
There was nothing but darkness and Leone searched around frantically, unsure of what was happening.
And then he spotted him, standing a few feet away, back turned to Leone. No longer the reaper, but the young man from the visions, neat, sleek hair and a well-tailored white suit, no longer stained in blood. And beyond him, Leone saw a light shining in the distance, a particular warmth beckoning.
"What is this?" he asked.
"It's The End," the young man replied as he turned around, a calm smile on his face, hands tucked behind his back. "Whatever that entails. Are you ready to find out, Leone?"
Leone stared at the beckoning light, sudden trepidation overcoming him. But he turned back to the young man who was now holding a hand out to him, waiting.
Leone swallowed hard and slowly reached out, taking the hand in a firm grip.
The young man tugged him forward and they both disappeared into the light.
For a moment there was nothing but a blinding flash, and then when Leone opened his eyes, he was once again wearing a crisp new uniform, transported back to that eager young man he had long since buried.
"Leone!"
He turned at the familiar voice and saw his father standing nearby, beside him Leone's partner, both of them smiling, and waving.
With a cry of joy, Leone ran to them, throwing his arms around his father and holding him tightly.
"Leone, my boy, I'm so proud of you."
"You did good, Leone," his partner added with a soft smile, gripping his shoulder.
Leone pulled back with a tug of his heart, furrowing his brow. "But I…I wasn't…"
His father pointed past his shoulder with a kind smile, "Sometimes, you're allowed a second chance at forgiveness."
Leone's breath caught in his throat as he watched another reunion happening a little bit away. A familiar dark-haired figure running to an older man of similar features, throwing his arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. Around him, a group of young men enfolded him with joyful cries.
Amidst the happy reunion, the young man turned, catching Leone's eye and smiled gratefully, raising a hand.
Leone smiled back and raised his own as both were ushered off by their loved ones, finally allowed to enjoy true peace.