<minor spoilers for pt.5 main character personality>
You're rather stressed, good thing Giorno is there for you.
Midnight, probably, maybe after, you weren't quite sure. All you knew was that the sheets were hot, and the down comforter even more so. They stuck to your skin like grime, it was uncomfortable.
But, it was also a comfort; a guard. They almost made you feel safe, almost. You had been much to stressed lately, way to stressed, to be honest, probably a bit depressed.
You couldn't fall asleep. The room was silent, the night dark, but the heavy weights of worry and irritation with what seemed to be everything kept you awake with a permanent scowl. You couldn't relax, not at all.
Ugh. A snack maybe, yeah, you should probably get a snack. It'd be no permanent solution, definitely not, actually, tomorrow it'd probably just make you feel horrible, but whatever; you were too tired to care.
So, you rose from your den of blankets, the cold assaulting your bare skin like daggers, and slipped on some late night clothes. There was little chance of encountering anyone in the kitchen, but little was not none.
Finding snacks, crackers, cake, and a small bottle of wine, was easy. You had hidden a stash, mostly to protect them from Sex Pistols, when that stand was out they always seemed to have a way of devouring every good thing in the house. It was bothersome really.
Opting to settle in on the couch, you wrapped a blanket (one that hadn't been cleared up from the other night when everyone decided to watch movies together) around yourself and sighed; digging into your midnight snack with as much enthusiasm as a student might start their homework.
It was a relief, for a moment. The alcohol brought a much unneeded drowse of emotions. You felt the drug-like effect of the beverage immediately; a sudden burst of dopamine surging through your brain.
But, the euphoria lasted only a few minutes before the crash hit you like a truck, and you felt even more miserable than before. Every worry, cause of stress, anxiety ran through your mind at breakneck speed. Fuck, why did you think drinking wine at 2am was a good idea again? Ah—right, stress eating. Nice. Add that to the list of things wrong with you.
Eventually, tears prickled your eyes, and threatened to overflow. Goddammit.
And of course, the door had to creak open at the sound of your muffled, just barely held in cries. A quick glance over brought you the person you least wanted to see this state of you—Giorno.
You'd been nursing a small (Okay, pretty big) crush on the guy for quite a while. But, he was unattainable, untouchable, way too good for you. Besides, he was the Don of Passione; you were a mere soldier that happened to have attained the rank of Capo, just below the underboss. There was no way, given his status, that the crush could lead anywhere.
Giorno's sapphire eyes quickly found their way to the bundle of blankets sitting on the couch, they settled on your face. A frown tugged at his lips—worry. Your name came tumbling from his lips, more a question than a call.
Quickly, you rubbed at your pink eyes, an attempt to hide the fact you'd been crying; a weak attempt to salvage your pride and image. "Yeah, Boss?"
The words were forced out of trembling lips with as steady a tone you could muster. Yet despite your best efforts, they still shook and quivered in the silent room, a painfully obvious indication of your state.
Nothing escaped Giorno's notice—not your pink eyes, wet lashes, trembling frame, nor the plate of half eaten cake and open bottle of wine. Hip lips tightened at the sight.