Sad/angsty scenario(or HC’s if you prefer) where new head of Passione Giorno finds a s/o of a La Squadra member who had been in hiding and waiting for their partner to come back and he has to break the bad news to them?
A H ç.ç Ok I started to write it this morning in the cafeteria before class and I made myself SAD but aaaaaaaaa angst is also so addicting?? It hurts like hell but once you try it you cannot stop aaaaaaa help ç.ç
I’ve chosen among the Squadra Risotto as the specific member whose s/o has to be informed here, I hope it’s fine!
Don Giovanna has to break the news of their partner’s death to a s/o of one of the Squadra di Esecuzione
(Under the cut for length!)
If only Gold Experience had the power to go back in time, Giorno would have immediately used it to change the past. He would have done everything to prevent his comrades’ death. Abbacchio, Narancia, Bruno… they all would have been here, safe and sound in the new Passione. He also would have tried to change how things went with the Squadra. If only… if only they had known that, in the end, their goal was the same, if only they had talked to each other, finding it out and teaming up…
They all would have been alive and Giorno shouldn’t have announced to their families the death of their husband, brother, son, partner. He wouldn’t have spread so much pain.
Giorno’s hands had never stopped to slightly shake since the moment he had found out that the Squadra members had families. It was so easy to picture them just as heartless murders… but they weren’t so. They were men as everyone else. Until that moment, Giorno had watched Pesci’s parents crumbling down, in tears, and Formaggio’s girlfriend staring at the void for minutes, hours, in shock. He had to hold back the tears when Illuso’s grandfather, a towering man even in his late years, hid his face in his hands to not let him see his tears and when Melone’s girlfriend broke down, sobbing and whispering that it wasn’t fair, that he even didn’t knew he was going to be a father. He could just lower his gaze when Ghiaccio’s uncle, the only one who never gave up with him, tightened his jaw, painfully holding back the agony, and when Prosciutto’s sisters, stubborn like him, bit their lips so hard to draw blood, to not cry in front of him. And now he had to meet the last one on his horrible list, and it was Risotto’s partner.
He hated it, he hated to have to give such an agonizing news; he didn’t know the Squadra, hell, he had contributed to kill them… but, at the same time, he couldn’t leave entire families just waiting and waiting for someone who would never be back. He had to do it to make atonement.
Every step seemed heavier than the previous one and, with them, his heart too grew heavier; he was almost hunched down when he finally got to the white painted door of the small house lost in the countryside. Risotto had chosen a perfect place where to hide his love; Giorno himself had had not few problems in finding it.
He lifted his fist, hesitating few seconds, before finally knocking at the door. He heard steps from inside the house and, after a little, a hesitant and cautious voice.
“My name’s Giorno Giovanna. I don’t work for the Boss of Passione; he’s dead. I have to talk to you, please.” he didn’t know how he managed to keep his voice steady. He heard various clacks of door locks and chains and, finally, they opened the door. His heart clenched painfully when he saw their face and the hope on it. of course, the Boss was dead and this meant that their man could come back home…
“Can I come in, please?” he asked, in a low and soft voice. They nodded, stepping back and leading him to the kitchen. A coffeepot was on the stove and the strong aroma of coffee was pervading the whole room.
“Would you like some coffee?” Giorno just shook his head; he would have thrown up even a sip of water, in that moment.
“No, thank you. Please… please, it’s better if you sit down.” Giorno’s tone made few alarms in their head ring. Giorno saw how their eyes, from hopeful, grew worried and scared. They sat down, staring at him, as their jaw tightened painfully.
“What’s going on? Where’s Risotto?” their voice was trembling. Giorno swallowed, desperately trying to find the right words, but, god, it didn’t exist a “right way” to announce something like this, and why was he voiceless? Why it didn’t become easier? Why did it always hurt like hell, even if he didn’t know these people?
“Is he…?” Giorno didn’t need them to finish the sentence to know what they meant. He nodded, swallowing again, feeling his eyes filling with tears when he saw their face twisting in pain, as a devastating and totalizing agony spread in their heart.
“How?” their voice was barely a whisper, but it sounded as loud as a scream. Giorno couldn’t help but to admire their strength; they were trying so hard to not break down…
“The Boss. He… he killed him in Sardinia.” Giorno’s voice too wasn’t more than a whisper. In the silence of the small kitchen, the coffeepot started to grumble and they immediately got up to go to turn off the stove. Their hands, as they were giving their back to Giorno, trembled.
“So he met the Boss, in the end…” their shoulders too started to shake, as tears invisible to Giorno rolled down their cheeks.
“He- he fought against him… he saw his face and fought for his mentors…” Giorno got up as well, worried, and slowly neared them. They didn’t chase him away.
“He did. He seriously injured the Boss.” Giorno felt the urge to tell them it, to tell them that Risotto didn’t die in shame, but with honour, fighting not only for his life, but also for avenging his fallen teammates, for coming back to them. He hoped that knowing that their man died doing his best to avenge their friends and to protect them could at least… not consoling them, because nothing but time would have been able to soothe the pain, but at least to give them a small anchor to hold onto in that dark, dark moment. Their shoulders shook more violently, as they were barely managing to hold back few deep sobs.
“It’s… it’s s-selfish to say that… I just want him back… back home…?” Giorno felt his self control cracking, as his bottom lip started to quiver, as it always happened when he was about to cry. No…
“It’s not. It’s not selfish.” the young Don stumbled back a little, when they hugged him. No, it wasn’t a hug; they were grasping at him like he was their lifeline, the only concrete thing in a sea of pain where they were trying not to drown into. And this, seeing them so lost, so hopeless, so lonely, broke him. His arms enveloped their shoulders, as to keep them together, as their arms were keeping him together, and the first tears since that day in Sardinia found their way to roll down his cheeks. They both cried all their soul out for their lost ones; for the Capo who wanted to avenge his teammates and to guarantee his love a safer life; for the kind leader who wanted to change their little world to better and who came back from death itself to protect his team; for the man who ‘till his last breath searched for a redemption that maybe he had already found time ago; for the innocent and brave boy who didn’t deserve to die.
Giorno had completed his task and it was now time to let all the repressed pain go.
