𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁 | 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐨

ʙᴀᴄᴋᴤᴛᴀɢᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙᴜᴄᴄɪᴀʀᴀᴛɪ

He never knew where your house was, not even during his childhood.

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

"I'm coming over to your house. I'm free for the day."

Shit.

Oh shit.

Perhaps staying inside was not the best idea? You knew you should have informed Bucciarati.

Although, now that you think about, does he know where you lived? You never did invited him to your house during your childhood, nor did he ever saw what your house looked like.

Maybe he did, your mind was blank whenever your false persona showed up, mindlessly watching as if it were through a screen.

While you wait for him to arrive, you had to deal with another problem—

Drugs.

By some miracle, you managed to kept taking drugs a secret from Bucciarati.

You could not remember when, but your poor self got into drugs when you were at your lowest point in your life, stumbling upon dealers that sold it. Unfortunately, even when you travelled back in time, your addiction overtook you.

You had tried so hard to stop the addiction, but it was too much for you.

Sighing, you left the drugs out in the open and everywhere in your house since your house was at a secluded place, and Bucciarati never visited you up until now.

Today was the start point of not doing drugs. Thankfully, your Stand managed to filter out the traces of the drugs inside your body, but that still did not stop you from wanting to take it again like it was your morning fix.

Of course, you had tried to fully stop the drug consumption for the past month, but you ended up going back into it.

You did not want to put the drugs into your Stand, however. Despite the fact that it ate a human being one time, you do not want to risk the drugs fucking up your Stand.

You had already hid your diary somewhere in a place you knew, and you were thinking about what to do with the drugs in front of you. You certainly could not snort it anymore, so the next best thing was to throw it away—

Ding!

You winced at the sound of your phone's notification, the volume and the high pitched sound hurting your head. You set it to vibrations whilst seeing who was it that messaged you.

"I can't seem to find your house, amica. Did you move houses?"

It was Bucciarati, of course. Ever the kind man he is even when he was stuck dealing with your annoying ass for a decade.

He was literally the only one in your contacts that you did not block. The rest of the numbers were your shitty adopted family that you had the misfortune to have even in this life.